Title: He Is Not The Son That Left
Keywords: mF, inc, mom, son, mdom, nc, anal, cheat, mat
Author: Caesar
Summary: Son returns home a changed man and confronts mother.













An innocent maiden named Herridge
Was cruelly tricked ito marriage;
        When she later found out
        What her spouse was about,
She threw herself under a carriage.
                -- Edward Gorey



He Is Not The Son That Left

by Caesar, copyright 2001

$Revision: 1.14 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $

I flung my arms about my son with abandon, hugging him fiercely
against me.

"Jenny...?  For gods sake the boy has only been gone four months!"
That was my husband, Brent's step-father, Robert.

My eyes were squeezed tight and I held back a sob - it had been harder
for me than Robert when Brent went off to an excellent University out
east, on a scholarship.

Brent's arms were pressed tight against his frame and he gasped,
"Mom...?"

Suddenly, I realized I may actually be harming my boy and immediately
released him from my loving, but asphyxiating, grasp.

Holding his shoulders in my hands I leaned back and looked up into my
handsome son's blue eyes.  My gaze was blurring with tears, I was so
happy to have my only child home - if only for a month.

Robert leaned past me and slapped my son on the chest playfully, "How
were the girls at school boy?"

My reaction was automatic, though none seemed to even hear me, "Oh
Robert!"

Brent seemed thankful to look away from my sad-happy face, as he
playfully replied to his step-father, "Pretty and plentiful!"

His bravado statement took me by surprise, Robert had always teased my
brilliant son on the lack of female companionship - and the normal
embarrassed and humiliated response was gone.  My son looked confident
and pleased with himself.

It was only the first of many changes I would notice.

Brent must have seen my surprised look, "Not as pretty as my mom of
course!"  He leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips.

It was the first time our lips had touched since he hit puberty.

 -*-

Supper was huge, in honour of my son's temporary return home - roast
beef, figgy duff and mashed potatoes, with strawberry angel food cake
to end top us all off.  All my son's favourites and all home made I
assure you!

Robert unbuckled his belt before leaving the table, staggering off to
the den mumbling something about, "...hockey scores...".

Brent just sat there, smiling confidently at me, his blue eyes
piercing me with love and pride.

"Great supper mom!"

I stood up and piled some of our dirty dishes together, "Did you
really think so?"  I was playing it cool - but what mother did not
find joy in making her child happy?

"Everything was perfect...", I turned about with a pile of heavy dirty
dishes in my hand, "... and so are you mom."  I almost paused in the
doorway to the kitchen - I let that strange comment go from my mind as
quickly as I could.  My son had probably met some girl at university
and she had taught him enough to him to flatter the ladies.  Though he
was aiming this flattery at me... I again forced the thoughts from my
mind.  And where did that self confidence come from - he had certainly
not left home with it?

When I returned from discarding the first handful of dishes I found my
son helping with the soiled dining room table and dirty dishes.  It
took me by surprise, briefly, my son never volunteered to help with
cleaning up the supper dishes before.

"Let me do that honey", reaching for the small pile he was building up
before him, "go watch hockey with Robert."

Brent gently grasped my hands just before I could grasp the dirty
plates, and lifted them up to his lips.  My son kissed the back of my
hands while looking at me with an intense confident gaze that appeared
so alien on my only child.

I felt my cheeks blush at this gallant attention, "Brent... honey...?"

"Quiet mom...", he let go of my hands and slipped his arms about my
torso to give me a gentle but firm hug.  My arms came up naturally, to
encircle his neck while my face pressed into his hard warm chest.

The side of my face was pressed to his chest, and could hear my son's
heart beating, and I felt warm and safe and thus, whispered to him, "I
love you honey."  I was so happy at that very moment - my son was home
and I was so happy.

Then I felt it, a strong hand slide down my hip to lay upon one butt
cheek and squeezed possessively.  It took me for a mental loop and
though I tried to lift my face from him, I was held firm within his
arms.

I was silent in shock as I felt the hand measure every inch of my
bottom cheek, even pressing my skirt and panty up into the crack of my
ass!

Just when I was about to open my mouth to protest, my son loosened his
grasp and I pressed out from him.  As I looked up into his piercing
blue eyes, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against my own.  My
eyes widened and I froze when my son slipped his long pointed tongue
past my lips and fondled about inside my mouth.

It probably lasted less than ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity
when he released both my lips and my ass and I just stood there
panting and looking up into the eyes of my only son.

Now, suddenly at that moment, they looked so foreign - as if this was
not my son at all, but some alien that looked like him.

His lips were wet with our mixed saliva as they curled into a smug
grin, his eyes daring me in some mysterious way.

"Brent...!"  What was I about to say - threaten him for his
unacceptable behaviour?  Or perhaps scream for my husband to save me?

This was my son - the little boy that I had given birth too, breast
fed, taught to walk and talk, played with and nurtured for all of his
life.

I had no words - words could not voice the mixed emotions and thoughts
that flowed through me.

"Yes mom?"  Brent licked his lips and I watched that pink tongue slide
over his almost feminine lips, remembering distinctly the feel of that
same tongue against my own.  A small electric charge ran down my spin
and I could not help but shake my shoulders in a slight shiver.

My son was challenging me, daring me to defy him.  He had done
something that we both knew was unacceptable and here he stood daring
me!  The gall!

He slowly looked down and I followed his gaze to see him lift his hand
up, palm toward me, between us.  In slow motion he moved a step closer
to me and lay his hand directly over my breast.  Our eyes again met
even as he squeezed my 'C' cup in his strong hand.

He squinted at me even as he fondled my tit, moving it about as if
measuring my chest... waiting for me to protest.

Why were no words coming out of my mouth?  As if I was in a black
comedy, I could feel my lips move in silent disagreement at my son's
actions.

Now he had found my nipple and was rolling it between thumb and two
fingers, it thrusting outward toward my son.  My sweater and brassier
only causing more friction on my aching teat.

Stop this, I screamed in my mind!

I felt a wave of disgust roll through me when I realized that I was
simply standing here letting my only son feel me up.  I could have
turned and ran, but didn't.  Robert would have come, if called, but I
did not say a word.  Brent was my son, damn it, and no matter how
awful a thing he did, I was his mother.

When my one nipple was so tight that it hurt he let go of my chest and
again stood silently before me.  There were no tears, I was stunned to
realize, as I simply stood silently looking up into my handsome son's
face - as if waiting.

Again I followed his gaze downward, to his hand, and watched it as it
moved toward me.  I felt him cup my crotch, his hand fitting perfectly
over my sex, the heel of his hand pressing into my clitoris.  Thank
god my skirt and panties protected me... didn't they?

I had been a good mother - a great mom!  Brent's real dad had left us
when our child was seven years old.  It had been a tough two years,
making ends meet, until I met Robert.  Boring is a word I would
describe my husband and Brent's step-father.  He had a big hanging
gut, was three quarters bald and had a hairy back - but you want to
know something, I loved him.  He took me, a single mother, in and
loved us, cared for us, provided for us.  Brent had taken to Robert as
a father, even taken after his step-father in the academic department.
Our life was fine.

I've been happy - haven't I?

Then Brent went off to University, winning a scholarship that allowed
him to gain entrance to one of the most exclusive institutions in the
country rather than a local College.  My son had almost cried in fear
of the unknown and, I hoped, in leaving his mother as he went deeper
into the airport on the way to his first semester of school.

Looking at Brent now, I knew that fearful boy was gone.  What stood
before me was a stranger, a man that I've never met, that only looked
like Brent.

I realized my breathing was coming faster, and I wanted to scream out
in frustration.  This was not how mothers reacted - not even with my
husband, if you want the true.

His two middle fingers were pressing my panty and skirt up into my
vaginal hole, while the heel of his hand scraped about my pelvic bone
and clitoris.  As much as I hated to admit it, I was getting excited.

Brent knew it too as his smirk of triumph had gotten wider.

Then just when I was fearful of giving my only child the wrong
impression, possibly by grinding into his aggressive hand or falling
into him by my knees giving out, my son stopped.

My boy whispered as he came toward me, "Don't move mom."  Had I moved
in any way since he first touched me in such an un-parent sort of way?

He stood before me, my breasts rubbing against his flat chest, our
eyes locked.  I felt his hands at my hips, pulling up my skirt and I
felt faint at my lack of self control - I should be running out of the
dining room screaming.

Then his thumbs hooked into the elastic of my panty, his digit feeling
cool against my skin, and then he pushed down.  The air tickled my
flesh as it became exposed, and I knew that I was leaving a trail of
my excitement down the inside of my thighs, the crotch of my panties
saturated.

Brent stepped away from me and squatted down with his eyes level with
my navel, and I looked down thanking whatever god there may be that my
skirt had again fallen down my legs hiding that part of me from what
was forbidden to a son.  He lifted my feet, one at a time, by holding
onto my slim ankles.

My little boy, is that not how all mothers think of their son's, stood
back up with my soiled white cotton brief in his hand.

He brought the darkened patch, wet from my helpless pleasure, in the
crotch area up to his nose and inhaled deeply.  Then my son again
captured my gaze and ordered in a voice that was so foreign, "Go
finish the dishes mom."

 -*-

I cried the whole hour it took to clean the kitchen, silently wiping
away my tears on the arms of my sweater as I loaded the dishwasher and
scrubbed the pots and pans.

Robert only came into the kitchen once, for a can of beer - his one
weakness was cold beer while watching sports on television - and I had
my face turned away from him the whole time.  My husband never even
noticed my tears let alone if something was wrong!

I had no idea where my son was for that hour.

 -*-

Robert, I saw, had fallen asleep with a book still open upon his
chest.  I leaned over him and took off his reading glasses and placed
a marker in his book before setting it on the night-side table.

My mind was moving rapidly over the minutes that Brent had possessed
me in his gaze after our pleasant supper - I would barely sleep this
night I knew.

Our house was large and very comfortable - and had a huge bathroom off
the main suite.  My darling husband had silently allowed this to be my
sanctuary, as he used the bathroom down the hallway - so it contained
only my personal items.  Robert, you see, loved me - took care of me
and I loved him.

I washed my face in the wide sink and stared at the weary lost gaze
that returned in the mirror.

What had happened downstairs?

My son had not only fondled me openly, but I had not defied him in the
least.  My son had not been known as a dominant personality before
going off to university, but I had felt his dominance as I stood there
to be silently fondled.  He could have done anything and I knew I
would not have stopped him!

It was wrong, of course... taboo... illegal as well... hell, everyone
knew that.  A mom and son... being together.  But that is not what
happened is it?  All that happened was that Brent had touched me in
places that I was not comfortable with.

Don't forget the panties, I chastised myself!

What the hell did he want with my plain white panty?  A fucking trophy
of his mothers silence as he felt her up?

Again I felt my cheeks turned bright red as I remembered how wet they
were and that my little boy had brought them up to his nose to smell
the forbidden scent of his parent's excitement.

What type of mother got excited and stood submissively when her child
touched her?  I should be sick of my inaction, of the response of my
body - but I was not.

I stood back from the mirror and looked at myself in the floor to
ceiling reflection.  What I saw did not give me the reason why my son
would do these things.  Staring back at me was a woman, forty two
years old, five foot four, well proportioned - I assured myself - with
pleasant curves, which meant full breasts and wide hips, small mouth,
shoulder length brown hair, and a pleasant, but plain I had to admit,
face.  I would certainly not stand against any competition of the
co-ed's that my son was seeing daily at his new school.  If you looked
closer you may notice that the hips had small stretch marks upon them,
that my breasts could never be called perky, as they had when I was a
teenager, and that there was definite wrinkles about my eyes and mouth
so that no one would mistake me for twenty ever again.

So why the hell had he done this to me?

I lifted my hands, and they felt like weights were attached to them,
and unzipped and unbuttoned my sweater and skirt.  I disrobed slowly,
removing even my earrings before again looking up into the same
mirror.

There stood a middle-aged woman with a lost look in her gaze, I
assessed.

I slipped my open fingers through the thick curls between my legs and
sighed at the gentle familiar touch.  Brent was only the third man,
boy I chastised myself, to touch that part of me - even through my
clothing.  He had in his possession, the panty that had covered me
since early morning - the same garment that had quickly gotten soaking
wet with my excitement.  How much humiliation was he willing to put me
through?

Was he masturbating to the scent of his mothers sex, I wondered with a
chill up my spin?  Did he relive those few moments as I was?  Was he
horrified at his actions, as he should be, or did it excite him?

These thoughts suddenly stopped when I realized what I was doing, one
of my fingers already damp from slipping up and down my outer labia.

But I stopped again, and stared intently in the mirror - is that what
interests you Brent?  The woman starred back at me looked confused but
also a little excited as well.  I saw the submissive look in my eye,
the wide eyed wonder of a child-like innocence that caused the men in
my life to want to protect and care for me.

I brought my damp finger up to my nose and took a deep smell of the
familiar, though rare, juices of my sex.  I wondered if my boy was
smelling the same from my cotton panty.

A shiver ran down my spin and right into my crotch.


 -*-

I was exhausted the next morning, as I made my husband and son their
breakfasts.  I had spent the night in chaotic thoughts, flashes of
recent memories and in a strange state of excitement, fear and
confusion.

Robert ate his breakfast heartily, as he does with every meal, while
reading the morning paper.  You could set your clock by my husband's
routines.

Brent hadn't come down from his room as yet.

Soon I was standing at the door in my robe as my husband kissed my
cheek automatically as he does every work day.  Then he was gone.  In
my confusion, it felt like a he had been awake only seconds.

I wasn't surprised when Brent's voice appeared behind me, "Alone mom?"

I closed the doors and took a deep breath as if to gain some semblance
of self-control, then I turned toward my child.

Brent was smirking while he looked me up and down as if he could see
through my satin robe.  I had not denied him yesterday so why should
my son not consider his mother readily available for any perversion
that he may think up?  Had the pleasure of what occurred not been upon
the panty that was taking as a trophy?

What else could a mother ask, "Do you want pancakes for breakfast
honey?"

I was surprised at the answer, "Sure mom."  What else could he have
said - I shuddered at the possibilities my mind started to conjure.

Feeling a huge wave of relief, wondering if yesterday's embarrassing
episode was a thing of the past, I strode down the hallway on my way
to the kitchen.

My son grasped my arm roughly as I was going by him and I stopped dead
in my tracks - my heart started thumping loudly in my chest.  I had to
protest, "Honey, I ...!"

"Quiet mom."  He said gently - and strangely I did.  Though my
breathing seemed incredibly loud to me in the wide hallway.

Then, reminiscent of yesterday, I felt him gathering up my satin robe
behind me.

Oh my god, I remembered, I had not worn anything after the long hot
shower I had to wake up this morning!

In seconds I felt the air tickle the skin of my bottom and knew, that
my son was looking down at my naked ass.  The cheeks of my face, and
perhaps behind me as well, flushed and I felt my knees buckle almost
dropping me to the floor.

Then I felt him tuck my robe into the belt at my waist, leaving my
backside naked from waist to heel.

Brent let go of my arm and slid around behind me and do you want to
know something, I just stood there stupidly as my own son grasped both
my ass cheeks in his big youthful hands.

I hung my head as he openly fondled my bottom, roughly and
possessively.  And I could not move an inch away from him - he was my
son, damn it to hell!  A finger actually slipped down and tickled the
small hairs between my cheeks and I feared that it may go further when
my son leaned forward and placed his lips against my ear.  "Now I'd
like those pancakes mom."

His hands suddenly dropped from my ass and I half ran from him, his
final command echoing through my home - "Leave your robe like it is
mom!"

 -*-

God help me, I went through the next forty minutes with my bare ass
hanging out of my robe as I fed my child.  Brent was eating and
smirking the whole time, his eyes glued to my bottom whenever he
could.  I think my whole body was bright red with shame and
embarrassment.

I knew all I had to do was pull out my robe from my belt to cover my
bottom, but I did not - this was my son and I loved him.  Why was he
doing these things?

His youthful hand was molding the closest cheek for the sixth time
since he sat down for breakfast as I leaned over to retrieve the
butter from the table.  Then he spoke for the first time since the
hallway, "Don't move mom."

I froze, fearing what was next.

Looking over my shoulder I watched as my only child aimed the bottle
of maple syrup directly over my ass and, horrified, I watched as a
thick glob slipped out and slowly dropped down to lay upon my exposed
skin.  "Beautiful - good enough to eat mom!"  He laughed at his own
joke as he leaned in.

My breathing froze as I felt his warm moist lips come into contact
with my cool smooth flesh, his hot tongue licking at the droplets of
syrup aggressively as I felt it slowly slide down toward the back of
my thigh.

I closed my eyes with shame, a mother with her own son's tongue on her
ass - it was against everything I've been taught and what I knew.

He licked at my bottom for several minutes, before sitting back in his
chair and staring at my saliva covered flesh.  I stared at him in
silent horror over my shoulder as he brought his hand up and swiftly
struck my ass in a open handed slap that reverberated throughout the
kitchen.  The dampness and the shame of it all caused sharp pain to
violently flow through my body from his slap - and I hissed in
response.  I wonder if the pain or humiliation of his actions hurt me
more?

Finally he looked up from my exposed bottom and dared me with those
lovely blue eyes, "You've been a good girl mom - why don't you go have
a shower."  It wasn't a question.

I simply stood there, my elbows on the table and my ass naked and high
behind me, staring at my son as if he were a stranger.  We shared a
look, and I thought I saw his gaze soften for only a second, that
puzzled me even further.

His hand lifted for another smack of my bottom and I quickly moved to
comply to his suggestion before it again struck at my sensitive skin.

 -*-

I felt the change in air pressure before I heard his voice, "Mom?"

In my personal washroom I had always had privacy, my own sanctuary as
my husband called it.  But I knew my son had invaded, and I felt his
presence like a blow to my gut as I could barely respond, "Yes?"

Go away I screamed silently to myself.  The tears starting again,
ready for the shower door to open.  Come to your senses... son's do
not do this to their mothers!

"I'm going to take a shower - can you come get me out in about ten
minutes?"

I took a deep breath suddenly, realizing I would not be cornered in my
shower stall naked and fearful - finding the words I responded, "Sure
honey."

 -*-

"Can you get a towel for me mom?"

I stood there in jeans and tee-shirt with wet hair and bare feet ten
minutes later, as ordered.

I found a large clean towel, and moved to place it on the toilet by
the bathtub when the water shut off and the sliding door slid open.

"God damn that was hot!"  I stood stunned in the steam filled small
basement bathroom, both hands holding the towel before me, and my
mouth open as I looked upon my son's nudity.  Of course I've seen my
son naked before - the last time about his twelfth year I think.  Yet,
he had changed - so very much - into a man.

With his long strong legs Brent carefully stepped over the edge of the
tub and stood on the fluffy bath mat dripping wet.  "Dry me mom."

I stood there dumbly, my eyes staring at the thick penis hanging
limping between my son's legs.  My breathing was already coming faster
and I felt my hands trembling.

Brent grunted impatiently, "Mom!"

I shook my head and looked up into his blue eyes, "Dry me."  I only
nodded in agreement - again my voice gone.

Kneeling down, to easier start from the bottom I told myself, with my
jeans already getting wet where they lay upon the rug, I started at my
son's feet.  I ached all over to look upward, it being so close, but I
forced my eyes to watch the movement of my hands on his wide spread
feet and towel.

Why was I so helpless with him?  Why is this happening to me?  To us?

His ankles and calves came next.  And I knew I was moving
excruciatingly slow, tenderly even - but I knew what was higher up and
it caused fear and, god help me, yes excitement at the mere thought.

Brent was tall, six foot two, and though not a jock, was still in good
shape.  He had well defined muscles and slim features.  His cock, I
remembered at my first look in six years, was different than his slim
features as it was rather thick.  A shiver ran through me suddenly.
He is, without a doubt in my mind, the most perfect male that I have
ever looked upon.

His knees and thighs were definitely dry as I had spent nearly five
minutes on that part of him, my peripheral often seeing that man-meat
between his legs almost as if it was waiting for me.

Why was I so helpless - it was not like I was an innocent teenager who
had never seen or felt the plunge of a dick before?

The next section to dry was what I feared and desired to do, but I
froze and looked up into his dominant humoured gaze.  "What's wrong
mom?"

I could not say a word, and thought it justice for my lack of a voice
since his aggression started only last night.

Brent leaned down and took the towel from my hand and wrapped it about
his waist and laughed as he ordered, "Get up mom!"  I stood on
quivering legs and stood facing my son as if I was a child about to be
punished.  He nodded with his chin, "Remove your jeans mom."

My jeans?  My hands moved as I was still formulating an argument why I
could not, unzipping and then pushing the denim quickly to my feet I
stepped out and kicked the pants into the corner.

My son was looking down at my white bikini-cut panties, a wide smile
upon his lips.  I followed his gaze, fear cursing through my veins,
until I saw what he was looking at.  Brent was looking at the white
cotton panty that was so wet with my sexual juices that they were dark
and nearly transparent.

I wanted to scream out that it was not my fault that he should not do
this to me... but of course I stood there dumbly.


Finally, Brent ordered, "Get out mom, I'll finish the rest."

I left in shame and humiliation - mostly because of the raw hunger I
felt for my son and knowing that he knew it as well.

 -*-

The sun was out that afternoon but it was a chilly day, surprisingly
my son sat outside as if asleep in a lawn chair.  I stood at the
closed sliding window in the den staring at him, my thoughts racing a
mile a minute.  I still had not replaced my jeans with another garment
- conscious that my son had not given my leave to do so, and so
endured the humiliation.

It was with a mixture of fear and excitement that I saw him open his
eyes and motion for me to come outside.  As if he knew all along that
I was standing just inside the winder - almost as if I was waiting for
his summons.

I hated myself so much at that moment!

Brent motioned to the foot of the long lawn chair, and so I sat
straddling it, facing toward him.  Immediately, I regretted my
position - feeling more exposed with my legs spread so wide, my still
damp panty barely covering my loins.

"When was the last time you came mom?"

It was like he had hit me across the face, and my head jerked back and
I sat open mouth at his ungentlemanly question.  It was none of his
business was it - but those words did not come out.  Instead, "Brent,
honey, this has got to stop."  I cursed myself for the lateness of my
rebellion.  Where were my words last night as my own son felt me up or
this morning as he licked syrup off my ass?

Tears suddenly flowed from my eyes freely, and finally.

"No."

No?  I wiped my eyes to see him clearly - and could see his dominant
amusement.  He looked so sure of himself, that it made me sick to
realized that I was powerless against him.  And yet, I still had no
conscious understanding why that could be!

"When was your last orgasm mom?"

I again wiped at my eyes, feeling the well of my tears already drying
up.  My rebellion already disintegrating - and that submissive
powerlessness returning.  "I don't remember."  I saw my son's firm
disagreement with this noncommittal answer, and followed immediately
up with, "Last week."  It had come out barely a whisper.

"Robert?"

I nodded negatively.

"Someone else?"

That shook me, how could my son think I would ever cheat on his
step-father, my husband?  "Good god no!"

Then I understood that in a way I was cheating on my husband, to a
certain extent, with my very own son.  My soul turned black at the
thought and my heart beat double time.

"You masturbated then?"

Why stop now?  "Yes."

"Where... how?"

I felt my heart beating rapidly and cursed myself knowing that I was
again getting excited, "In the tub... always in the tub."  I could not
meet his eyes.  I never told a soul how I pleasured my self, or even
revealed that I do masturbate!

"And how often does Robert fuck you?"  That word struck me like a fist
and my stomach knotted up.  I've never heard my son use that word
before and it seemed to me that our lives had just changed in that
second it took to say it.

I could do nothing but reply truthfully, "Two or three times a month
usually."

Please stop this Brent!

"Have you ever sucked Roberts cock?"

Again the foul mouth tightened my guts.  "No."  I had sucked my first
husband infrequently but Robert was a in-the-dark-on-top kind of guy.
I never regretted my marriage to Robert, knowing that my own hand
could relieve the ache between my legs if I should need it.  And I
needed it much more frequently than I did my husbands cock, I thought
with shame.

"Have you ever had anal sex?"

The question disgusted and excited me for some reason, "God no!"  My
son chuckled at my response strangely enough.  Was I that humorous -
being completely helpless to him?

The cold was causing me to shiver, or was it for some other reason,
and my nipples hardened painfully in my bra.  There was a familiar
heat between my legs and I cursed my weakness, hating my cunt for
being submissive to my own son, for enjoying it.  Was it flowing yet
again, causing my panty to become practically transparent?

"How often do you usually masturbate mom?"

"Two or three times a week normally."  I hadn't this week as I was so
happy that my child was returning home - it kept my thoughts off the
itching between my legs.

I felt like a small child I realized, being manipulated by an older
wiser person rather than my son.

His hand came up, and I froze to watch it till it cupped the cheek of
my face tenderly and then the tears started again.  I feared for the
next several minutes, hoping and hating his next question or command -
knowing that I would do or answer anything he said.

"Why are you crying mom?"  He sounded like the son of old, genuinely
concerned for me?

I looked back up into his face for the first time since
sitting. Instead of answering I asked my question, "Why are you doing
this Brent?"

His answer almost doubled me over as my stomach contracted, "Because
you want me too mom."

It was spoken so softly and tenderly and I knew it to be the truth,
god help me.  Yet how did Brent know?

My whole body was trembling now.

"What does that make me?"  I knew what it made me.

"A submissive slut mom."  He said that with a smile and I felt the
inner muscles of my sex contract.

My whole being seemed to come together like a disjointed puzzle - his
words seemed to put light into the dark tunnel of my life and I had
never even known or thought there was a problem with my life.

"Why do you think that?"

His hand slipped off my cheek and grasped the top of my tee shirt,
with a quick yank he tore it down to my navel.  My bra covered chest
and stomach lay exposed for his gaze.  Only peripherally did I wonder
if the neighbours were looking out their window right at this moment,
but had not the strength to stop this or even to look up at the houses
overlooking ours.  My son had to know there could be someone peeping
at us, but he did not seem to care in the least.  So why should I?

For some reason I had worn a black sheer lace bra, while dressing down
in all other respects.  I did not wear any makeup or jewelry after my
shower, and though the earlier discarded jeans were tight they were
also old and faded.  I had tried to look dowdy and unpleasant - so why
had I worn a bra that I've not had on for nearly three years?

Brent rubbed his thumb alternately over either of my covered nipples -
they already thrusting outward, seemed to miraculously harden even
more.  In fact they felt tighter and struck out further than I ever
remembered.

"I've thought about it for years mom - watched you..."

What?  How could he know when I did not even suspect?

"The instructor from my psychology class helped me understand it all."

What?  "Someone told you...?"

"Not just someone mom - a woman older than you."

A pang of jealously ran through me, hidden behind the shivers, "You
had sex with her?"

Matter of fact, "Yes, many times."  He laughed happily, "She was my
first."  Another bolt of jealousy that I found hard to suppress.  My
mind wanted to diagnose that jealous rage at another woman taking my
son's virginity - but I forced the urge away.  "She asked me about
you... and helped me realize what you were... what I could do with
you!"

I felt like a puppet... someone had molded my son into dominating me.
Someone had seen something that I did not even know existed and helped
my son understand it, use it.

"She told me that you'll never be happy till you find someone to
'care' for you."  Both his hands pulled at the top of my bra, drawing
it below my 'C' cup breasts so that they hung over the top.  "Someone
that you could love and trust."  He grasped both my nipples between
thumb and forefinger roughly - and with a hiss from me, squeezed
sharply.

A sob of pleasure and of sorrow escaped from me and I hung my head in
shame as tears seemed to flow from my eyes.  Brent seemed to take no
heed of this and was yanking and twisting at my nipples as only I
would do in my wildest masturbation sessions.

It was all true, I felt down in my heart and in my soul.  How could I
have been blind all these years?  I thought I have been happy.  Yet
there was the evidence before me - how I always submitted my wishes
for the man in my life, now I needed someone to make those decisions,
how even my fantasies went in that 'direction'.

"My lover", how I hated him calling his instructor that, "told me to
hurt you... to make you do things you hated to do."

I whispered, "Yes", but he did not hear me.  Thankfully.

"To make you cry with pleasure and to spoil you."

"Yes."  My son paused and I knew he heard my last whisper - but now it
was different, I wanted him to hear me.  I wanted to scream out that
all that he said seemed to fill a void that I never even knew existed
in my life and the sorrow of that could only be recovered with his
love and his attention.

"She told me to make you into my slave - as that is the only way that
you will be truly happy."

I nodded, as if I understood all this, which I did not.  But I felt
pleasure in each of his words - my sex actually vibrating with desire.
In my heart and soul, I knew it all to be true.

"That if I did not do this for you, that someday someone will come
along... someone that did not love you like I do, and really hurt
you."

It made a warped-kind of sense and the tears were falling on to my
son's hands as they worked upon my exposed breasts.

Finally, his hands fell from my chest and we sat silently across from
one another for several long minutes.

"She told me that you may not have known any of this but would
willingly surrender your soul for me."

I was true - he was my son and I prayed, my ... Master.

I finally found my voice, "Your teacher... she is a very smart woman."

He laughed suddenly, and it seemed to lessen the tension a few degrees
- "She also loves to suck cock!"

I found no humour in his bravado statement, only jealousy and
competition.  Yes, you read correctly, I wanted my son to remember me
as the best at sucking his cock... fucking... anything!  I wanted, no
I needed to be this person.  In the ten minutes since I sat, my whole
life had changed and I was no longer the person that had sent her son
off to University months before.

"Go make us some lunch mom - I'll be right in."

Yes, I even wanted to be the best cook for my son - so I rushed into
my husbands home to make Brent a memorable lunch.  As if cooking and
serving my only child with by breasts hanging out was not memorable
enough?

 -*-

You would think I was outside in the chilly air rather than in the
warmth of my husbands home, as I shivered continuously.  I stood naked
in my bathroom looking pitifully in my lingerie bag, cursing the lack
of sexy underwear.  Outside in my husbands bedroom, I had left my son,
sitting patiently on the wide bed - waiting for me, his mother, to
come out of the bathroom looking sexy and desirable.

I felt disgust again at the lack of options for lingerie - why hadn't
I any pairs of thigh high stockings?  Crotchless panties?  Sheer
chemise?  Body stocking?

Because until today, I always thought of myself as a middle aged
plain-looking woman.  Suddenly, after our talk earlier, it no longer
mattered what I thought of myself - only what my son thought of me.
And by all accounts he thought rather fairly of his old mother, I
should think.

I sat on the toilet, naked and shivering, with my face in my open
hands with despair.  Brent had ordered me to go into the bathroom and
only come out when I was the sexy woman that he knew in his heart I
was.  The words of that command took my heart and it soared high with
happiness - that the one man who truly mattered in my life thought me
desirable.

I knew what was going to happen, of course.  And for this most
memorable of occasions, I wanted to look incredible, edible, for my
son.  There was that fear, not so deep down, that I would step from
the bathroom, available and ready, and all Brent would see is an
average-looking middle-aged woman.

"Mom?"

I've been in the bathroom for quite some time.  "Yes honey?"  I
couldn't keep the quivering from my voice.

"What's taking so long?"  He sounded like the teenager just after his
voice changed - my little boy!

I started to cry loud enough for him to hear me, "I don't have
anything sexy for you Brent!"

That young teenage voice was gone as he barked, "Mother!"

I took a sheet of toilet tissue and wiped my eyes before blowing my
nose.  "Yes my love?"

"Come out here right now."

I was torn between my desire to make myself presentable and my need to
obey.  The latter won, of course, and I stood to open the door to the
bedroom.

The curtains had been closed so that my husbands bedroom was dim
though I could see the naked body of my only child, standing at the
foot of the king sized bed.  His eyes moved down and I felt even more
naked than I was, as he looked upon his mother fully exposed for the
first time.  I hated myself just then, wishing I could have the body I
wished to have for my son.  Something tight, shapely and hard - with
big firm perky breasts and slim hips and long legs.

But his words took my breath away and I lost all those negative
thoughts, "God - you look beautiful mom."  When was the last time any
man had said that to me - let alone when I was naked?

"Turn the light off and come here."  I shut off the bathroom light
behind me and took the few steps to stand before my only child.  I
could not meet his eyes but my heart was beating quickly and my breath
was coming uncontrollably in fast gasps.

His hands came up and grasped my waist and pulled me into him, I was
shocked and pleased when I felt his moist lips press against my own
and the hard member press into my stomach.

My god, I thought amazed, he desires me!

Those big hands found themselves to my round soft bottom, and I felt
deja-vu as they fondled me aggressively.  I could feel the hunger of
my man-child as his tongue shoved itself into my mouth and his hands
raped my ass.  The hard cock between us was pulsating and it had to be
half as much bigger than his step-fathers, bigger than I've ever seen
or experienced.

No one has ever reacted this passionately for me and I revelled in
joyous abandon as I helplessly let my own excitement build within me.
As if I had any choice.

I was for him, for my boy, my son... only his - I repeated over and
over as a mantra in my head.

A finger slipped into the crack of my ass and touched my most private
of spots - and instead of embarrassment I only felt extreme pleasure.
No one has ever touched me there, having always thought that part of
me dirty and disgusting - my son's pleasure immediately reversed my
views on my own ass hole.  In fact I arched my back outward so that my
ass pressed against his finger and hand and that digit slipped into me
minutely.

"I love your ass mom!"  He whispered between tongue lashing kisses.

It's yours, I thought.

He pulled away and I stared into his deep blue eyes, "God, I want you
mom!"

My sex contracted with a spasm at those words, no one has ever said
such a thing to me before.  My knees almost buckled and I may have
fallen if his hands were not upon my ass.

I looked up into my son's eyes and begged through a hoarse voice,
"Tell me what you want me to do honey!"

He could have said he wanted me to run to the corner, wave at any
passing cars and then shit a log in the middle of the intersection and
do you want to know something, at that moment I know I would have done
it.  But what I truly wanted him to instruct me to do was to give him
the pleasure I ached to give him.

I felt a trail of my female excitement slipping down the inside of one
of my thighs and I giggled suddenly like a little girl, the new
feeling of this heightened excitement ticklish.

His voice was hoarse as well, "I want you to come mom."

"Yes honey!"

"I want you to climb into this bed...", I squeezed my knees together
and clenched the invisible muscles inside my sex, "... and rub that
sweet cunt of yours...", I felt another contraction at the bawdy word
to describe his own mothers vagina, I loved it, "...and scream when
you come."

For only a brief moment I was confused, I thought he would need to get
that monster of a cock inside me - my mouth or my pussy... or even my
ass hungered for him.

He must have seen my startled look and his nails bit into the flesh of
my bottom and laughed as he added, "Put on a good show for me mom...",
his finger dug to the second knuckle in my rectum, "... and I promise
you a good hard fuck as a reward!"

Something in me snapped and I tore from him to jump onto the bed, like
a kid, lay onto my back and spread my legs.

I was fully exposed to my son now - nothing else could be hidden.

Brent had turned to watch his mothers lewd behaviour as I stared
directly at that hard huge cock even as my hands slipped to my chest
and my crotch.  As if meeting my unspoken desire, my son slipped one
of his hands down to his hard thrusting organ and held it firmly
toward me, the piss-hole aimed right at my open mouth.  That was
enough to drop any resistance to propriety that may have lain hidden
within me.

Nothing else mattered at that moment and I simply slipped two fingers
into my very wet hot vagina - the other started to twist and squeeze
at a nipple.  No one else knew it, but I liked it rough - and used my
private moments to abuse my body as it enjoyed.  Brent saw all this,
of course, as I pounded my fingers in and out of my sex a dozen times
before pulling them dripping from my body to twist and fondle my
enlarged excited hard clitoris for a moment before again returning to
my hungry hole.

Time was meaningless and there could have been a dozen people watching
me at that moment it would not have mattered - all that mattered was
that my son wanted this, wanted to give me pleasure, that his cock was
hard for me, aiming toward me as if in promise.

The orgasm tore suddenly through my soul and I shoved my ankles into
the bed to push up my cunt to make it more accessible to my submerged
fingers.  I froze in such a position with my ass, upper legs, and most
of my back completely raised from the bed.  A scream of rare pleasure
escaped my lips and I heard it as if I was a spectator to this
debauchery.  The pain from my twisted nipple parallelled the grand
orgasm that stole all purpose from me and lifted me to new heights.

Never before had I felt such rapture with self-pleasure and knew it
was due to my awakening by my only love, my son.

 -*-

A cloud lifted from my mind and I slowly came aware that I lay
exhausted in my bed, strong hands sliding up and down my body.
"Hum... that feels good."  I moaned when the hand toyed with my long
kinky-haired pussy, pushing up my hips to attempt to get that hand to
a more pleasurable spot.

"It does indeed mom!"  A finger suddenly slipped into my wet sex and I
gasped at the physical and mental pleasure of my son entering this
part of me.

Lips engulfed my nipple, the one spared from my earlier
self-debauchery, and teeth nibbled upon it deliciously.  I pressed a
hand to the back of my son's head and held him there while wiggling my
hips to feel more of his finger slide around inside me.  Sloppy echoes
from between my thighs proved just how wet I was, reverberating in the
large bedroom.

Finally I opened my eyes and stared down to my chest to see my only
child sucking upon my bosom as he had so many years before.  It was
all different now though, I was the child and he the parent - I needed
him for everything now, willing to do anything to make him happy.

A second finger, larger than my own I should add, added to the first.

Brent lifted his lips from my chest and brought them to my own - his
tongue slipped into my mouth and I relished it with love.  I needed
him inside me suddenly, to give and to receive a pleasure that can
only be done when a man is inside his woman.  It was also a form of
binding, a symbol that I needed to finalize this new life I had
discovered.

Our eyes met and we communicated volumes in a mere second.

My child pulled his fingers from me and crawled between my spread
legs.  I groaned with expectant pleasure and was pumping the air
between us unconsciously.  I was sucking has tongue as he aimed his
hips.  I felt the circumcised head of his penis brush against my
pouting enlarged inner labia and I shivered as a bolt of lust ran
through me.

Believe me when I say, I have never felt this way before.  How could I
- I've never belonged to a man as I now belonged to my son!

Then he froze, and I held my breath knowing what was to come.

Brent thrust forward mercilessly and I found my son fully submerged
inside my cunt even as another orgasm overtook my senses and I tore at
my sons back with my nails and pressed my crotch hard against his.

He had pulled his mouth from mine and simply looked down at his
mother, our noses touching - and our eyes meet two minutes later when
I found the strength to again open them.  In that time he had not
moved - which was thankful, as my sex needed time to adjust to the
circumference of his prick - bigger than even the odd object I would
use in my private pleasure sessions.

"Ready mom?"

God yes, I screamed in my mind.  My mouth was too dry to talk, and I
felt my lower lip quiver with pent emotions and released pleasures.

"You must ask me mom."  He was smirking as he had that first time he
forced me to his will.  Was it only yesterday?  His smile told me that
he knew whom I belonged too, just how much power he held over me.

I had to swallow twice and clear my throat before I got out a raspy,
"Fuck me honey!"  It was barely sufficient and I knew this time it
would suffice - but not long in the future I will have to ask with
more conviction and raw lust in my voice.

Then he pulled his hips away from my own until I felt only the fat
head of his lovely cock inside me before driving it in.  Our bodies
slammed together and the pain of that union and pleasure filled my
senses.

Brent fucked me hard and fast, like I've never been fucked before.  I
wrapped my shapely legs about his slim waist, locking my ankles behind
him, as I tried to thrust upward to meet our slamming union.  Tears of
happiness ran down my cheeks as I cried out with pleasure - reborn by
the dominance of my own child.

One of his hands slipped around behind me and I felt it force a middle
finger into my sweaty, vaginal-greased back passage - this time not
stopping till it lay to the third knuckle.  Anything I was whispering
over and over, anything for my love.

My breasts were flopping all over my chest and Brent playfully tried
to bite at my thrusting hard nipples and they danced to our energetic
union.

The top of my head was pounding into the headboard of the bed
painfully, but even that I would not have changed.  It was perfect -
as if I've never before had sex.  The total submission to another is
the opening to new heights of pleasure to me.  I've been blind before
today and I would spend the rest of my life thanking my son for
opening my eyes.

He was grunting now in time to my squeals, and like his real father, I
knew this was the prelude to the final climb to the summit.  I closed
my eyes and aimed my focus on the hard cock inside my body, feeling my
own pleasure building to heights that I never knew existed.

Brent's organ grew rapidly, thickly stretching what I thought could
not stretch any wider, and he froze above me.

The first blast of him deep inside where no man has ever shot, set off
my own pleasure and I screamed as my son filled my body with his
sperm.  We both froze as spasms rocked our consciousness, and our
bodies were one with each other and the universe.

I swear I saw god.

 -*-

My son lay with his head propped up on several pillows of the bed's
headboard and his legs spread wide.

As instructed I lay upon my stomach between his long longs, my knees
spread and my feet waving in the air behind me.

I lay with my eyes inches from his soft soiled member as I studied it
like as if I've never seen such a thing as a man's penis before.

Well, I suppose, I haven't seen one so perfect and beautiful - as
large, even soft - or one that had given me more pleasure than I've
ever experienced before.  In fact my son's cock was still slimy wet
with our combined juices and my mouth watered to taste us.

A fat vein running the length of him throbbed repeatedly and I lifted
his soft shaft gently with thumb and forefinger to study that blood
track closer.

I could smell him now - his man-sweat, man-come and woman-juice all
mixed into one.  It was a smell that filled my head and made me feel
like a teenage girl with her first boy.  In a way, I assured myself,
this was my first cock - all the others having been before I was
awakened by my son and lover.

The cock twitched in my hand and I giggled and sighed deeply, looking
past it at the wide smile of my man.  "I love you honey."

"I love you too mom."  He looked happy, content - and my heart soared
with pride for child.

I returned his smile, we were one now - our consummation complete and
the proof of that lay gurgling around inside my vaginal cavity.  I
have never felt more love or sexy as in that moment - content in that
I never need to worry again about a thing, my son would take care of
me.

I opened my mouth and took half of his six soft inches into my mouth.
I immediately tasted his sperm and my grease and I groaned with
pleasure - wanting more... often.

Brent's cock rapidly started to enlarge filling my mouth so that I
could only get my mouth about the head of him.  Both my hands wrapped
about the base, unable to encircle him with any one hand.

God I was so lucky, to have found my true love, my true position in
life.  Had my son not forced me to be aware, I would have died a
lonely sad woman.  And this cock - it was to die for!  And did it
really matter that it was with my son that I had found these things?

The head was so smooth and my tongue ran over it rapidly as my hands
moved up and down his shaft.  I wanted to taste him, to feel his seed
spurt upon my tongue.  I've never sucked a man to completion, but
desired it suddenly for Brent.

Both his hands came down and he held my head firmly to move it up and
down - and I realized that what what he liked, a bobbing mouth on his
beautiful cock rather than dainty licks.  I had much to learn I knew
suddenly - how to be a good lover, devoted slave and an uninhibited
slut.

Come in my mouth my lover, I thought - hoping he could read my mind.

 -*-

It was a surprisingly dry winter, but chilly.  The gas station
attendant kept looking through the front windshield of the car at my
braless sheer blouse - the cold having kept my nipples at attention.
Brent ignored him and counted out our money to pay for the petrol.
The window was open and I heard the gas pump click when our tank was
full - the teenager came to our window and my son gave him the money.

It was all a dream, running nearly across the width of our country
like two lovers from estranged families.  Well, that was not so far
off was it - Robert was certainly not happy, I remembered grimly.  He
as a good man, a good father to my son, but it had to end - and even
Brent tried to hide the full truth from him to spare the pain.

Waiting for the gas station attendant to return with change my son
suddenly turned toward me and lifted his hand to grasp the back of my
head - I knew what my love wanted and eagerly allowed him to guide my
face to his lap.  I never deny him anything - especially the chance to
take him into my mouth.

In the last ten days since I've become my son's lover, I've done
everything he wished - and loved every second.  Anal sex was the most
painful, at first - but that turned to a strangely fulfilling pleasure
that triggered multiple orgasms even as my son shot his seed into my
virgin hole.  Then there was my breasts, my son simply loved to place
his fat cock between my boobs and fuck my chest - at first it amused
me, but that was before he shot his load all over my face and neck, I
was gasping with pleasure, that first time, at the feelings I had at
the strange new submissive position.  My son spanked me for the first
time a couple of days before and I actually got off as the belt rained
down on my abused bottom.  He has tied me up with his step-fathers
ties, teasing me for three hours as I screamed for release.  Last
night he had shaved my pussy bare - and then spent nearly an hour
eating me to orgasm after orgasm.  I loved it all.

I've become such a slut, I laughed to myself.  Well, a slut to only
one man of course.

And I doubted not my son's love - even when he told me that we will
have his Psychology instructor joining us in our bed, and I would
often get a mouthful of juicy just-fucked pussy.  To be honest, I am
not looking forward to that, but my son and lover wanted it from me
and I would do anything for me.

I heard the teenager return even as my face was bobbing before the
steering wheel.  "Uh... thanks mister."

"No problem."  He must have given the attendant a tip - besides seeing
a middle-aged woman sucking on his cock I mean.

Then it had been time to go - Brent ordering me to pack only one bag,
with very specific instructions on what clothing.  He wrote a message
to my husband, and though I don't have a clue what lay within it, I
felt sorry toward the gentle man whom had taken care of me and my son
these last few years.  We only had enough time to drive back to
University before his classes started - using my BMW as
transportation.

Brent laughed probably at the attendants reaction, closed the window,
and started the car before pulling back onto the highway.  He could
last a long while, I knew from recent experience - especially after
our pleasurable start to our morning - yet I would enjoy every second.


--
