Title: Pleasures Of His Success
Keywords: mF, mdom, bond, inc, mom, son, anal, mat
Author: Caesar
Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to allow his newly divorced mother to move in with him, a successful and driven young man attempts to make the best of the situation.
 













When he tried to inject his huge whanger
A young man aroused his girl's anger.
        As they strove in the dark
        She was heard to remark,
"What you need is a zeppelin hanger."




Pleasures Of His Success

by Caesar, copyright 2002

$Revision: 1.10 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $

I knew mother was trying very hard not to disrupt my life or my home.

In the first few days, after she moved in, mother stayed in her room
and apologized frequently for interrupting me, no matter what the
reason.  She did not say a word as she moved about my home unless
spoken too and in all respects, treated me differently than I had ever
been treated by my parent.

If truth be told, the only reason I let her move into my expensive
multilevel penthouse condo was simple guilt.  The burden of guilt for
being a child and then growing to surpass the success of my father and
father.  I know that mother had taken Journalism in University many
years ago, but gave up any thought of a career when she became
pregnant with me.  Dad, being the sole bread winner, had assumed the
duties of the 'man' - his wife, my mother, had given up her life to be
the perfect 'woman', wife and mother.  I had heard a part of an
argument to this effect, when dad walked out on mom less than a year
ago.

Sure I could afford to have moved her into her own apartment, paid for
all her necessities and allowed her a life that may have echoed what
she gave up many years before.  I gave her the option and you know
what?  She chose her own place... but admitted the reasons for her
decision was that she did not want to disrupt my life.  So I did what
I thought any responsible adult man-child would do, I ordered her to
take my spare bedroom and move into my home.

Of course, seconds after I said it, I regretted it.

My mother understood me better than I thought; and she left most of
her personal possessions in storage and moved in with less than two
large boxes of clothing and toiletries.  She cleaned the house,
between the days that the maids did not come, and cooked on days that
I had yet ordered in food.  Since I had not lived with anyone for
several years, this dainty intrusion into my private life was
accommodating, to say the least.

After dad left her, mother tried to get a job - she did have a
Journalism Degree after all - yet none of the dozens of applications
even responded much less showed interest in hiring a middle-aged woman
with no working experience.  This put her into a depression that she
tried unsuccessfully to hide from me.  I paid for her to take craft
lessons, but none of those took her interest.  She had stopped
associating with her friends just after dad left her, most of whom had
been friends with the both of them for many years.  She took less
interest in her personal welfare - gaining twenty pounds before the
divorce even finalized.  And when that day came, dad being the smuck
he is, fought and won half the family home so that it had to be sold
and the proceeds added toward the trust of the final settlement.

Oh, did I mention that dad left mom for a younger woman.  She is
mid-thirties with big breasts and an IQ the same as her shoe size.

No wonder mom was depressed.

So she moved in.

The first days were not uneventful, as she got used to my schedule and
my odd mannerisms.  You see, being a broker for venture investments
with customers worldwide, I happen to be working twenty-four-seven.
Mom learnt this quickly when she realized I had four cellular phones,
three of which I asked her not to answer if they rang.  At any one
moment in time, I normally had one stuck to my ear as I walked around
my home.

 -*-

"Mom?"

Her smile was rarely the bright happy grin of our earlier years, but
she tried to brighten up for me whenever I was in the room.  Though I
would have to be blind not to see how much she was in emotional
turmoil.  "Yes honey?"

"Why don't you go shopping tomorrow?  Get something for the dinner
party on Saturday."

Her smile slowly disappeared, "'Dinner party'?"

I completely forgot.  Another odd mannerism of mine - I was often so
busy that some things simply were lost in the pace of my life.  I had
three secretaries working for me, and I still managed to forget
things!  It was time for an explanation, "A German client and his wife
are coming in for the weekend, I asked them to dinner here Saturday
night.  He has is the CEO of a corporation that has a slush fund that
they are interested in investing through us."

Mom started to look horrified.

"Mom!  Don't worry, its catered.  All we have to do is show up."

"Oh... it would be better if I went to a movie that night.  I would
not know how to act around... your clients."

I had to agree with her - having my mother at a small, intimate, but
formal business dinner was not my idea of ideal.  Yet I had known it
would come to this at some point when I first considered the
consequences of her living with me.  It would be better if she became
accustomed to my fast pace life and adapted appropriately.  "Nonsense
mother!  Go buy a sexy dress that shows a lot of cleavage and thigh
and don't worry about it!"  It was an off-hand remark at best.

Mom turned red immediately at the mention of cleavage and thigh that
it amused me, her being embarrassed in this way.  I am her adult son
after all - and well past the years of embarrassment.  I was about to
tease her on it when the cellular in my hand began to ring.  "Hello?"
I waved to mom as I moved away from her to return back to my
home-office.

The conversation, with mother, was at an end.

 -*-

Mom sat silently and sipped at the same glass of white wine throughout
the evening.  She wore a matronly flowered print dress that I hated as
soon as I saw her in it, but there was no time to ask her to change
it, and which made her look like a suburbs mother at a business
function.  She caught my eye several times through the supper and the
subsequent coffee, trying to let me know that she knew she was very
out of place and apologized for that fact.

After the German couple departed and the caterers finished cleaning up
and had left for the night, mother came to the doorway to my home
office.  "I'm sorry how it went honey."

I turned away from the email I had been replying too, and gave her a
soft smile.  "It was the first time mom, it will get easier."

She nodded negatively, "I think it best if I make myself scarce the
next time."

"Nonsense!"  The male side of me took over, while my brain screamed
for me to agree, for my middle-aged mother to hide whenever I do
business within my home.  It would be unfair though, to hide from my
business - as so much of my life is a cyclone of business people and
functions.  "We will have to work on it a little mom, don't worry
about it."

She was silent but did not look convinced.

"Look mom its easy, your pretty and smart.  You were just never
exposed to these type of people before."  Thats an understatement;
foreigners, upper class, and very wealthy.  The latter two,
incidentally, that I was working toward becoming.

She looked nervously at me but nodded in agreement.

"I was serious about showing some cleavage and thigh."  I don't know
why I said that.

Her face began to redden yet again while her arms came up and crossed
over her ample chest defensively.  I had to hide a smile at seeing
this unconscious manoeuvre.

"Next time you go shopping, don't go to those economy stores - go to
the most expensive place you can.  And don't worry about the money,
its all on me."

"I don't know honey...!"

Interrupting, "I do mom!  Follow my lead and we'll make a great pair!"

After mother slowly turned away and went to her room I was regretting
the discussion and doubted she will ever compliment me enough in a
social setting that it would help in any of my business relationships.

 -*-

Mother, from that moment forward, turned to me for advice on most
anything involving what she did or how she looked.  All in the name of
educating her.  With subtle suggestions I got her to enrol at a
fitness place to get rid of those 'divorce pounds' that she carried
around with her.  She was constantly bringing me catalogues and
showing me pictures of what she thought I would want her to wear for
our next 'function'.  Usually she was wrong in the items that she
chose.  Yet, slowly, she began to have an idea what I thought she
should wear from her underwear to her makeup.

After weeks of being bombarded by questions, and constantly being
apologized for being interrupting me, I came home from the office to a
home cooked dinner and my mother dressed in clothing I had picked for
her.

My mother is an attractive woman, if she were otherwise, I doubt I
would have let her attend my last dinner party.  Lets face it ugly
people just don't get the attention that an attractive person does.
Its unfair, I know, but fuck you - I am rather good looking myself.

As an attractive middle-aged woman she had a round face with wide blue
eyes.  She was on the short side and, still, over her normal weight.
Yet this weight made her look voluptuous rather than fat - her bottom,
thighs and hips broadening.  Though she was overweight, currently, she
had always looked voluptuous as I grew up.  It was her large round
fleshy breasts, looking rather over-sized on her short sexy frame.

She stood in the foyer nervous but excited in her new black silk
blouse and black leather skirt.  The hem of the skirt about mid-thigh
and her blouse unbuttoned so that a generous amount of her cleavage
showed.  She wore black hose with black heels.  What was the most
striking thing was that her hair was completely different - changed to
a shorter stylish cut that was no longer dark brown, but a light
reddish brown.

Mom looked very good.

"My god... mother!"  I dropped my briefcase and took the few steps
before I wrapped my arms about her waist to give her a big hug.  "Damn
you look great mom!"  It was not only the fact that she looked good,
which she did, but that she had tried to hard to please me - to fit
into the life I now lead.  If she was to live here, with me, it could
be no other way.

She squealed with delight when I lifted her off her heels and squeezed
so that she could barely breath.  I leaned back and saw how wide her
smile was and that small glitter in her eye, both that had been
missing for years.

She playfully slapped my chest when I let her go and said, "Oh honey!
Stop it!"  I could see that she did not mean it though, she needed my
praise like a person needed to eat.  And mother, had not been properly
complimented in a very very long time.

Mom lead me to the dining room where she served me my favourite meal.

It was a very delightful evening.

Throughout, I wondered absentmindedly if she wore the thigh-high
stockings and lace bra and panties that I also purchased for her.

The supper ended early when I heard one of my cellular phones playing
Beethoven's 5th Symphony from my briefcase by the door.

 -*-

The next meeting was also at my home, a last minute affair to have a
few people over to sample some of the wines I preferred but in
reality, to flesh out a strategy for defending against a potential
lawsuit.  The caterers served finger foods as I walked around pouring
wine from one of two bottles that the caterers kept chilled for me.
There was one other person from my company there and seven from a
client corporation.

Mother stood to the side, silently nursing the same glass of wine for
most of the afternoon.  She looked fabulous in a tan blazer and short
skirt, a white blouse beneath - professional and very sexy.  I caught
more than one male client checking over the attractive middle-aged
woman with the sexy legs.  I saw that she was polite but nervous
whenever someone attempted to strike up a conversation with her.

Ah well, you can dress up monkey and bring him to the dining room
table, he is still a fucking monkey - as my boss likes to say.

This was how mother fit into the party that day.  As soon as it was
over I looked for mom and found her sobbing behind the closed bathroom
door.  Evidently she thought she was a monkey as well.  I left her
alone with her embarrassed misery.

 -*-

The next day we had our first argument since her moving into my home.
Mother stood in my bedroom doorway in an old gray sweatpants and an
ugly knit sweater.  She stood the whole time with her arms over her
chest, which I was discovering was her self-defence mechanism when she
was feeling self conscious of her body.

Her voice had risen until she suddenly took a calm breath and said,
"Perhaps I should move out."

That was her ultimatum.  She had money from the divorce - not a heck
of a lot, since she barely contested fathers abusive claims.

If I continued to force her to attend my little gatherings, making her
wear those expensive and revealing clothing, drink more alcohol than
she had in the last ten years and generally make a fool of herself -
then she would leave.  She felt out of place and humiliated.

Evidently this all came about because my boss, sixty four year old
grandfather of twelve and happily married for forty one years, had
fondled mothers ass at the party.  More than anything else and I think
it scared her.  She had two others standing by her that were all
talking about some topic when my boss had introduced himself and stood
next to her as the other two talked.  For nearly five minutes mother
had stood there while my ancient boss, the primary shareholder of our
company, roughly fondled her round backside above her short stylish
skirt.

I was packing for a Hong Kong trip when she came to the doorway to
start this argument.  It took a bit of self control not to break out
laughing when she told me about my boss.  The old man was well known
around the office as a leach, who went through pretty young
secretaries every three months and bragged about the pros and cons of
each sexy experience with his secretaries at high level meetings.  He
was, of course, one of the 'old school' of businessmen.

The fact that he was fondling the ass of a woman twice the average age
of his secretaries, I thought it rather amusing.  On the other hand,
mother had never been treated this way by any man, had never dressed
provocatively so that every male openly appraised her.

So I changed the subject, "I thought you enjoyed the 'new look'?"  It
was a phrase that meant the results of my directions to her body and
person - up until the party it was openly used between us.  And always
in a positive light.

Her cheeks turned red yet again and she shifted upon her bare feet.
"I thought I did... no, I do, I just don't like how others look at me
when I dress that way!"

"So, you like dressing like that for me only?"

She paused, and swallowed heavily and then became defensively, "And
why shouldn't I?  Your my son and I love and trust you completely.
Besides your the man of the house now!"  I was surprised at the venom
in her response - uncharacteristic of mother.

That last statement also took me by surprise - proving that she and I
had used the same logic when I would not take 'no' for an answer after
I asked her to move in with me.  "Your right mom, I am the man of the
house now.  I will be back in a week and in that time I want you to
fill up the credit card I gave you - buy more short skirts, revealing
blouses, sexy panties and bras, and lots of thigh high stockings!
When I walk back into my home next week I expect you to look damn
sexy!"  My voice had risen during my lengthy instruction.

Mother turned, her hands coming up to hide her sorrow - it was
possibly the first time I have ever rose my voice in anger toward her.

"Your not leaving... and that is it!"  She started to run away from my
open door, down the hallway to her own room.  I left her with one
final order before I had to rush out of here, "I never expect to see
what you have on now... ever again!"

 -*-

Well, mother looked very good when I returned from overseas.  I took
one long measuring look at her, she standing still as if on display,
before I retreated with my bags to unpack.

I ordered Indian food that night, and as I scooped it onto a plate,
mother standing to the side waiting her turn at the aromatic food, I
asked without looking at her, "Are those thigh-high stockings mother?"

Since the answer was not immediately forthcoming, I simply turned my
head toward her and glared into her fearful eyes.  My will easily
dominated her own and she finally answered in a small quivering voice,
"Yes honey, they are."

Good.  That was one little fetish I had always enjoyed with my ladies,
something that I thought increased a womans sexual appeal by leaps and
bounds.  The fact that I had asked my own mother goes to show that,
for me, I had crossed some invisible boundary between and mother and
her child.  She was more than a mother to me now, she was a woman as
well.

I took my plate up to my personal office on the top floor and slammed
my door.

That night, and for days afterwards we did not say a word to each
other.  In fact, things were down right cold between us.  Yet, to
mothers credit, she wore short skirts, heels and revealing blouses
each and every day.

 -*-

The next get together was at my bosses, and he had made a point of
asking me to bring my mother.  Mother cried silently in humiliation
while seated in the passenger seat as we drove to the impressive house
on the outskirts of the city.

Upon returning from the party, mother was silent and fought back tears
until I closed the door to my home and then she turned on her heels
and tore into me before our jackets were even off!  "Well, are you
happy?  Whoring your mother out for your boss to feel up!"

I kept my calm, having predicted this confrontation.  I knew my boss
and I knew he could not keep his paws off mothers round sexy ass, even
with his wife a few meters away.  "Did he touch you again mom?"  I put
my coat squarely and slowly onto the hanger.

"Touch me!"  She was becoming almost shrill.  "You tell me how to
dress... you make me go to these parties where I stick out like a sore
thumb... then you don't even seem to mind that your boss... he... !"

"He what mother?"  I think my calmness was adding to her hysterics.
Throughout the evening I had barely seen my mother, since I had been
bombarded with people wanting conversations with me.

She took a long breath to calm herself before she answered, "That
monster put his hand up under my skirt!"  She wore an off-white
leather skirt that was one of the longest skirts I allowed her to
purchase, since it was tight enough to show off her curves and still
revealed her attractive legs - just touching the tops of her knees.
Mother suddenly hide her face in both her hands and sobbed loudly in
humiliation.

My next question quickly stopped her sobs, "Did he put his hand
beneath your panties mother?"

Both of her thin hands dropped from before her face and she looked at
me surprised.

I hated asking a question more than once, at work or home.  "Well did
he?"  My voice left no doubt that I wished an answer - immediately.

Finally, "No".

Before she spoke another word I took a few steps to stand before her,
her head tilted up to look at me.  I reached between us and unbuttoned
the new swede coat that she wore before pushing it off her shoulders
and holding it in my left hand.  Our eyes were still locked as I
reached around my parent and immediately grasped her left ass cheek
above her clothing with my big strong right hand.

Mother gasped and fell forward into my chest as my grasping hand held
her in that position against me.  In such close proximity she could
not look directly up into my face, it was such a sharp angle, instead
pressed her face into my hard chest, with my hand-made linen shirt as
a buffer.

Slowly, to make my point, I groped every inch of that cheek until I
could feel mothers hot breath gasping into my breast.  Then I began to
pull up mothers skirt until I slide the hand beneath and onto the lace
bikini panty beneath.  I half expected to find one of those ugly
middle-aged over-sized white satin panties some women liked to wear.
Instead I found a tight lace panty that I immediately guessed was from
my forays into the lingerie catalogues with mother and almost wished I
could see how it looked upon her rather than touch it impersonally as
I was.

Without the leather skirt her ass felt softer and much more pliable as
I roughly fondled it.  My hand slide lower so that I felt warm very
smooth skin of her lower buttock and her thighs.  Mother was, indeed,
wearing stockings as instructed.

With a parting pat upon her rear I let the skirt fall back down and
then stepped back and away from her.  Mother nearly fell from loosing
her balance, as she had been using my chest to stay upright, but
quickly caught herself.  She opened her eyes and was surprised to find
that I was holding out her coat for her to take.

Befuddled she took the coat and slowly looked up into my eyes.

"Am I a monster too mom?"  I paused to see what her answer would be
but mother opened and closed her mouth twice without a sound.  "I am
the son that you love and trust - remember?" Don't you hate when
someone uses your own words against you?  "If you don't want someone
to touch you mom - your wise enough to get them to stop."  I had
almost said 'old enough'.

I strode roughly past her and retreated up to my room - it had been a
long difficult night.  Made more difficult by the memory of that soft
bottom in my one hand.

 -*-

The chill in my home was gone the next day, mother even smiled at me
as she brought breakfast up to my personal office.  When she left, I
could swear her bottom had a little extra wiggle beneath the short
skirt.  Then as I ate and read my email, I could hear her downstairs
singing happily.

Wow - talk about a reversal of personalities.  Things had not been
that great in my parents home even, long before the divorce, that I
can only remember a single time mother had been so pleasant and that
was before I was even in high school.

Hell, maybe I should grab her ass more often!

Well... that last thought killed any idea I had about reviewing my
morning email.  Was that what caused this shift in mood?  I knew it
wasn't the old man, my boss, grabbing her ass that done it - so it had
to have been her own son's hand.  Wow, the implications were too
incredible to imagine.

So incredible I dismissed those thoughts immediately.

Taking the tray down to the kitchen, mostly uneaten, I found mother
seated at the breakfast table eating in silence.

Mother saw the barely touched food and asked concerned, "Anything
wrong honey?"

"No mom, I just wanted to eat with you."  She brightened up
immediately and jumped up from her chair to take the tray and remove
the food from it to a place at the table across from her.

I sat down as she did this, she standing just to my side.

I looked down to admire her shapely ass and thighs from behind, as she
wore a short charcoal wool skirt.  With barely a thought I reached up
and placed my hand on the back of the nearest knee.

Did I not tell my mother that she could stop any unwanted touching -
does that mean her inaction told of her desire for me to continue?

Mother paused for the briefest of seconds and continued setting my
place as my hand slid gently up the back of her soft smooth thigh to
just beneath her skirt.  Nor did she seem to even notice when I
suddenly felt the warm smooth skin of her thighs, above the stocking
just below the curve of her buttock.  With a firm squeeze of the soft
inner thigh, I removed my hand and sat forward and picked up my fork.

Mother moved around to the other side of the table and began to eat as
well, often looking toward me.  I caught her eye a few times and she
gently smiled but could not keep our eyes locked and turned down to
her plate.

I finished first, having the habit of eating very quickly unless its a
fine dinner in the company of stylish people that I wished to impress.
Mother saw that I was done and put her fork down, whipped her face
with the cloth napkin and then asked, "Can I ask you something honey?"

Here it comes, I thought, she was going to ask me why I was feeling
her up.  In truth I had no idea.  Oh sure, last night I would have
said it was to teach her a lesson and not to act so childish - but
now, I was not so sure.  I simply nodded for her to continue.

With embarrassment mother asked, "Do you think your father would still
have left me if I had been... careful in my appearance like I am now?"

The question took me by surprise and I felt the tension leave my
tightened shoulders.  "I don't know mom.  Maybe."  We had never really
talked about my parents marriage before, nor even the recent divorce.

There was a pregnant pause that I knew she had more to say and so I
sat silent.  This was what a man does, listen at the proper times.
Listening to mother about her theories why dad left her for a much
younger woman was a part of that.

"When we were younger... I wouldn't do things for him."  She could not
meet my eyes but I could feel her embarrassment fill the air of the
kitchen.  "Then as we got older I... he didn't... I wanted too,
but...!"

I reached across and took mom's hand, it was cold, "Its OK mom."  In
truth I wanted her to stop for my sake, I did not want to hear the
private intimacy that went on between mom and dad.

She caught my eye for the first time since she started this strange
discussion, and there was an odd twinkle within it.  "He was the man
of the house too."

It was like being hit by a hammer to the side of the head - if I
understood mother correctly, mom was telling me that this was her
second chance, and she would not screw this one up like she did with
dad.

What the fuck did all that mean anyways?

Maybe I was over thinking all this!  Prayed it was so.

Mom, thankfully, changed the subject, "Do you like how I dress honey?"

In general, of course, I'm the one that chose and even purchased every
item of clothing I've seen her wear in weeks.  I was feeling very
nervous, adolescent - and I hated it.  "Yes."

She smiled softly, "I think I look good too."  Her pupils were boring
into mine and I tried to keep the hood of obscurity between us, so as
not to interpret that gaze.  Mother laughed suddenly, nervously, and
much of the tension in the kitchen seemed to dissipated, "I did not
even know I had legs until that first time I saw you look at me in
that first dress you bought."

It was there between us, unspoken but no longer transparent.  I was
the man of the house and as such mother was willing to do anything for
me.

No, that was incorrect.

Mother wanted to do things for me.

That was the extra twinkle in her eye.

"I've got to get back to my email, there were several that needed to
be replied too this morning."  She nodded and pulled her hand from my
own, which I realized was very sweaty.

I stood and started to leave - but stopped in just a few steps.  This
was my house, this was my mother... and that hard hitting, fast paced
part of me caused me to turn to see her exactly as when I stood.  I
strode purposely over to stand behind her chair and leaned over at the
waist.  Mother tilted her head to the far shoulder exposing her long
white neck, before that, on her chest, the fleshy white cleavage.  My
lips came into contact with her warm skin just at the nape of her
neck.

Even though my kissed lasted only a few seconds and was, in
retrospect, rather chaste - mother sighed hoarsely and began to breath
in a laboured manner.

Quickly I strode from the kitchen, anxious to get away from my parent
- though I could not get away from my thumping heart and
near-hyperventilating breathing.

 -*-

What the fuck was wrong with me?  I'm not some low class incestuous
demented man.  God damn it!  I'm a man who only wanted to rise above
my station - and was doing a damn fine job of it if truth be told.

Its not my fault, as you can see, it was mothers!

How could she come to this... this... decision?

God damn it!  She was an intelligent, learnt, woman.  She had no prior
predisposition toward incest than I did, to be sure.  Fuck, dad used
to tell me that mom was a virgin when they met.  Mother telling me to
find a nice girl, a virgin if I could, to marry - just like dear old
mom.

One thing was for sure - I hate how I was acting.  Me, the one so in
control - I dominate every board room and meeting I attend.  Its what
brings in the money - why my boss is looking at me to assume the
reigns of his little empire.  Why could I not just get over this
fucking crazy idea that mother had toward me, her own god damned child
by the way, and get on with life?

Perhaps it was not so much about getting 'over' this idea of mothers',
more so than accepting it and moving on.

I felt it, that excitement when I made a score at work, when I find
the one thing that I can use to win over all others.  This was it, the
answer to the situation in my own home.

Imagine how easily my home life will be if my loving mother, and I use
that phrase with a much different meaning than ever before, does all
that the man of the house tells her to do.  She would be the perfect
decoration on my arm as I fight my way toward the money and power that
I had always dreamt of.  Sure I'll have to give her a few pats on the
ass, or perhaps a squeeze of those round tits, and maybe give her some
very un-family-like kisses when she has been particularly good.  It
would not be so bad, forgetting that she was my mother - she was a
very attractive woman when she dressed properly - a few squeezes may
actually be very enjoyable.

Hell, now understanding my own parent like never before, I'm sure she
would enjoy any bone I threw her way.

I actually laughed at the pleasure of this train of thought, the
answer to my future home life.

 -*-

I thought to start this new pattern within my home immediately and
descended to find mother cleaning the breakfast dishes.  Even with a
dishwasher, she always seemed to enjoy doing them by hand.  As hard as
I tried, I knew mother would be a middle-aged suburban housewife for
the rest of her life - getting her to dress sexy and act properly in
the correct company did not change that fact.

She had not heard me enter the kitchen - with the rinse water running
- so I came up quickly behind her.  Rather rougher than I intended, I
slipped my hands up under mothers arms and around to grasp each soft
breast possessively.  Mother froze, gasped loudly and accidentally
splashed some water over the counter and onto the stomach of her
blouse.

I pressed my groin into her ass, my knees bent perfectly.  This
pressed her against the edge of the counter and up upon the toes of
her heels.

This was my way of taking back the initiative.  Something I thought I
had lost as mother had revealed her desires to me, at breakfast.

"Oh... honey...?"

I leaned down and sloppily kissed her neck, which she had immediately
turned away to give me easier access.  Her ass, as well, had pressed
against me, her back arching toward the sink.

My lips found her ear and after a quick kiss I hoarsely ordered,
"Tonight Jane, I want you to wear that sexy nightie I bought for you."
It was the first use of her name between us that I could remember, I
knew she was thinking the same thing.

"Yes honey... yes...!"

"I'll be home late but when I do, I want the two of us to curl up on
the couch and watch a movie."

Her panting seemed to have paused at this strange direction.

"Movie?"

She could barely speak, but had tilted her head down so as to watch my
fingers fumble with the buttons of her blouse.  As I pulled the fabric
wide, I reached in and grasped the black lace bra and the warm sexy
skin beneath.  Mother pressed her chest forward into my hands, the
nipples already hard and thrusting into my palms.

"And mom... your not to wear anything else.  Do you understand me?"

You must understand that the nightgown that I had instructed her to
wear was a silver satin fabric that was loose but seemed to mold to
the shape of the skin of the person that wore it as that person moved.
It also had white lace about the bosom, the nipples evidently would be
easily seen.  It had short spaghetti straps, the bottom hung to the
knee but had slits up the thighs to both hips.  With mother wearing
that, she would be effectively naked.

She was panting heavily again but managed to squeak, "Yes!"

At that answer I stood back and removed my hands from her chest,
roughly I spun her by her shoulders so that she faced me.

Mothers eyes were glassy as she looked up at me, her knees were
quivering and I thought she may fall.  I generously moved my gaze from
her eyes to her full wet lips, parted wide with the heavy breathing,
then down to her exposed lace bra and the shadow of her nipples
beneath.

My thumb came up and rubbed it over the crown of that thrusting nipple
as mother groaned with the pleasure of it.

It was time to play with her.

"Tell me you love me mom?"

Swallowing heavily she squeaked out, "I love you honey."

"Do you want me mom?"  We both knew what I meant.

"Yes honey.  Yes!  I want you!"

"Am I the man of this house?"

"Yes honey, your the man of this house."  For some reason, when mother
said this, it sounded prophetic rather than a simple statement.

"And I am able to do anything that I want in this house right?"

Her eyes were starting to refocus as her fever started to diminish
with the strange, direct, questions coming from her son.
"Yes... anything... yes!"

I felt that that was enough for one confrontation - I leaned in and
pressed my lips against her own.  Quickly she opened her mouth wide
and tilted her head to accommodate me.

The kiss was more passionate than I intended but there was no regret
on my part.  I could feel the desperate passion within mother in that
single kiss.  It was not the sexiest kiss I have ever had, nor did I
believe she had kissed that way very often - as she seemed almost
amateurish in her attempt.  Perhaps it was simply overzealousness,
wanting to please me, for me to pleasure her, but mother certainly put
all her love and passion into that first, real, kiss between us.

 -*-

Mother half lay on the wide comfortable couch right next to me,
propped up against me.  Her head was laying upon my chest, and though
her eyes were open and looking toward the wide television and the
movie that I had picked out, I doubted she would remember a second of
it.

You see, mother kept squirming, her knees and thighs rubbing together
like a horny little grasshopper.  She kept doing this till I
repeatedly barked at her to sit still.  Though she tried, it was a
physical impossibility, evidently.

Hell, I could smell her lust.  It filled my nostrils, and the living
room, with its full bodied distinct scent.  It was a strange but
addictive smell - heady and sweet at the same time, and seemed to
trigger some coarse desire within me.

Mother lay upon her side, facing the television, my arm was draped
over her to disappear into the slit of her nightie to fondle her hip
and naked ass.  Infrequently I would move it up to her chest and grasp
that barely hidden hanging tit, finding that I rather enjoyed twisting
mothers hard nipple until she gasped and wiggled helplessly.

God help me but this has already gone further than I had planned - but
the sound of her heavy breathing, the sight of that stark white naked
hip and most of one raised buttock, the musky smell of her
pleasure... it all added up to raise my senses.  And then there was
the fact that I had to keep the initiative and had to keep my cool -
to play the dominant while I knew I was rapidly loosing my control to
the passions that were welling up within me.

I knew mother would have had an orgasm even before half the movie was
complete, simply by the twisting of her nipple.  Yet I stopped
expertly every time, returning to her soft white smooth ass.  And each
time I did her hips seemed to have moved so that by the end of the
movie she was almost laying upon her stomach.  I could feel her wish
that my fingers would slip lower, down into the crevice of her bottom
and lower to the source of that sexy bawdy smell.  Yet I did not.

Infrequently I would pull her head back up to my chest, as it moved
lower down past my flat stomach.  Once she had gone low enough so that
I thought I felt her kissing my half-hard cock through my slacks.
That time I had been a bit too rough and yanked her head back by
grasping a handful of her hair.  She cried out at the pain but it was
quickly forgotten as I again twisted her nipple so that her cry of
pain turned to a mew of pleasure.

Just as the credits started, ending the movie, I moved my hand back to
mothers chest and found the wide pink nipple as I had left it, thick,
wrinkled and very hard.  Leaning down to kiss mother's head, I spoke
softly into her messy hair, "You may orgasm now mother!"

She did not seem to have heard me - but within the minute mother cried
out as if in pain and suddenly stiffened just before beginning to
spasm at least half a dozen times, her whole body jerking below me.

The scent was different now - thicker and richer.

Mother sat still, working hard to slow her breathing, enjoying the
after affects of her orgasm.  My hand had returned to her ass, to find
it slick with perspiration and she acknowledged my presence with a
more mewing of pleasure and arching her ass up into my fondling paw.

It was an amazing thing I had just done - given my own mother an
orgasm.  While I had simply intended to relive her tensions in some
manner, the sight, smell and feel of her orgasm affected me deeply.  I
was still resolved that what went on between us could not go further
than a pat, a fondle and a few kisses - I starting to wonder just how
pleasurable it could be if it went further.

Finally mother lifted her head from where it had again slipped down,
my stomach, and looked up into my eyes.  It was a side of her that I
had never seen before.  If it was not for the exhausted half smile I
would think her sick.  Mothers face was sweaty, her hair a mess, her
arms quivering where she held herself up.  She was a woman that had
just had an orgasm and her son had never seen her look this way
before.

Slowly, with careful exhausted movements, mother moved so that she was
kneeling on her heels facing me on the couch.  I looked down, not for
the first time that evening, to enjoy the generous view of her droopy
but very sexy breasts beneath that white lace.  Her nipples were still
hard and the lace was sparse enough that I could actually see the
wrinkles upon her aureora.

Mother slowly leaned in and pressed her lips to my own.  It was less
desperate than the kiss earlier in the day and sloppier, with her
saliva quickly dripping from our busy lips to our chins.  To me, I
favoured this kiss rather than the previous - this one was real.

Leaning back so that our noses almost touched, mother looked into my
eyes and asked, "Can I do anything for you honey?"  At that same time,
I felt her hand grasp me through my pants, measuring and fondling very
aggressively.

In mothers eyes I saw the desperation for more, for her to pleasure me
now.  I also saw her surprised delight at the size and shape of my
dick - which she had not seen since I was a toddler - that she felt in
her hand.

As a woman, I think mother feels she failed when it comes to her
marriage to dad.  After our frank discussion this morning I now
understood that mother was less than open about her body, about sex
and sexuality in general in those early years with dad.  Then, later,
when her sexual peak came and went, she thought of those earlier
denials and knew her husbands lack of interest at that period in their
marriage was only because of her earlier actions, much to her
distress.  She had watched as he turned to another, younger, sexier
and probably much more open about her sexuality - woman.  Dad, I
guessed, was probably having fun with his new woman, doing things he
had never done with mom.

I saw all this in mothers pleading gaze right then - knowing that she
now thought me as her man, and as such, nothing would be denied to me.
She had learnt a harsh lesson from her marriage and one that she knew
how not to repeat.

It was a part of my plan that I had no answer for - I did not wish to
pass that invisible barrier between playing around and incest.  Yet
mother not only expected it, she needed it to prove her self worth -
to help her feel worthy and like a desirable woman.  No matter how
revealing her clothing was and how sexy she looked in it, how many
other men looked at her with lust in their eyes, only to see and feel
her man orgasm by her loving actions could she feel whole.

And, god help me, I could use a good fuck right then.  Looking upon
mothers kneeling sexy lingerie-clad body, I knew that this evening had
been a mistake on my part, that I could not play the cold distant man
with this passion-filled woman.  That I did love her and that love had
turned to erotic passion for her at some not-so-distant point.  It was
a weakness, evidently, for a male as ambitious as I am.

I reached up and slowly pulled one thin strap from mothers shoulders.
It fell down her arm and with a little help from me, it fell beneath
the curve of her ripe breast.  It was the one that I had not assaulted
that evening but it looked positively inviting all the same.

"Did you breast feed me mom?"  I knew the answer I just wanted to hear
it.

She seemed a little surprised at my actions, my question, but she
eventually answered, "Yes honey, I did."

It was the first time I saw my mothers breast, her nipple, without the
erotic covering of lace and it had slight white stretch marks along
the side, blue veins upon the lower curvature and the wide pink nipple
no longer pointed straight ahead let along toward the ceiling but
rather downward at an angle.

I hafted it in my hand, as if measuring its weight.  "Did you ever
think you would be offering your nipple to me like this?"

She did not answer right away so I pressed my thumb and forefinger on
either side of her hard nipple and twisted it mercilessly.  She gasped
in pain and then answered, "No honey!"  I realized, then, that the
pain I gave her by twisting her nipple, by hurting her with more than
just the pain I gave her, humiliated while strengthening her resolve
with regards to endure all that I gave her, to enjoy it all if only
for my sake.

Letting go of her abused teat I reached down and lifted the hem of her
nightie and slide it up her thighs.  Though kneeling on her heels, her
knees were spread just enough so that there was enough space for a
single hand.  My hand.

I slide my hand along the smooth soft skin of the inside of mothers
thigh until I twisted it upward and discovered a sloppy hairy hot cunt
in the palm of my hand.  It felt as if it was dripping and my hand
quickly felt drenched in her hot juices.  Mother had orgasmed minutes
before and here was the source of that sexy smell.

Mother gasped and froze as I groped her naked crotch.  She looked at
me intently as I slipped two fingers into her surprisingly tight hole,
the heel of my palm pressing into the hard bud of her clitoris.

It was obvious mom had not been pleasured in a very long time, that
her sex was extremely sensitive and that she needed anything I was
willing to give her.

My two fingers started to move in and our of her sloppy firm sex while
the heel of my hand ground against her clitoris in little circles.
Her head fell back on her shoulders with her eyes clenched tightly and
she prayed to god as her son quickly brought her off yet again.  She
fell against me, her face in my neck, as she twitched with her second
orgasm.

I whispered into her ear, "You liked that didn't you mom?"  The anger
was welling up inside me and I knew why - this evening had gone past
what I had planned, what I had wished.  I had no one else to blame but
myself but unfortunately mother was receiving the brunt of the
negative force.

Panting, "Uh huh!"

Still whispering, but with a certain sharp tone, "Your a horny old
cunt aren't you mom?"

Now believe me when I tell you that I had never used such words with
her and would never have said what I just did to another woman, let
alone one that I had been intimate with.

There was only silence as a response.

I jerked my fingers that were still within her body and mother
twitched again, reminded of what we had just done.  "Tell me you loved
it mom?"

She didn't hesitate this time but her voice was barely a whisper that
I strained to hear even though she was mere centimetres from me, "I
loved it."

"Tell me you loved me inside you mom?"

"I loved you in me honey."

"In where mom?  Tell me what I have in side you?"

A hesitation, "Your fingers... your fingers are inside my vagina."  I
had never heard my mother use such words before, coarse and
descriptive about her own body.

I was humiliating her... dominating her and I loved it!  "Its not your
'vagina' mom but your cunt.  Say it?"

She panted and sobbed at the same time as my fingers started to move
again, and finally, "Cunt!"

Mother started to wiggle her bottom, grinding her ass against my hand
and fingers.  I realized that even my humiliating dominating words
inflamed her, father had never even spent the time to use her in this
way.

Sick isn't it?

"Who's cunt mom?"

I could feel her indecision through her body that I had impaled, and
realized she was looking for the correct response.  In a few lengthy
seconds, I knew she had found it before she spoke, her body started to
heat up and her ass started to move at overdrive, "Its your cunt
honey!  I belong to you!"

She opened her mouth and screamed, this time, into the skin of my neck
as she orgasmed for the third and final time this night!

 -*-

I returned the next morning, tired and a little confused.

Last night had been crazy - totally beyond my original intentions and
it bothered me that I had let it go so far.  I had eased mother down
onto the couch, covered her exhausted and sweaty body as she mumbled
her love and devotion to me, even her submission.  As she disappeared
into slumber she used the word 'cunt' more times than I cared to
count, promising that it was mine, that it would always be ready for
my use and that she would always be a good little 'cunt'.  Totally
surreal.

I sat across the room, in the large easy chair watching her sleep, the
emotions rolling through me like waves.  One minute I wanted to yank
the blanket from her tired person and shove myself into her body and
fuck myself to ease this tension within me.  Then the next I would be
furious at myself, and at her - wanting to go and throw her out onto
the street for the incestuous slut she was.

In the end, though, I stood up, grabbed a jacket and car keys and
drove off.  The evening was enjoyable, in a physical sort of way, that
comes from getting your rocks off, finally, after having a raging hard
boner for hours.  The woman was a non-regular fuck that I infrequently
use. Her name is Mary, her husband works in the office but they are
separated and so she was alone when I showed up at her door.  She was
also a very enthusiastic fuck.  Just what I needed.

Well, actually, it only eased the physical pressures - there were
emotional and mental currents within me that were still very much at
high barometer levels.

I had to leave Mary before her two children woke up and so when mother
woke she found me seated across from her as I had been the night
before when I watched her sleep.

As Mary had bounced with pleasure above me, I kept seeing mothers lust
filled devoted gaze.  No matter how enthusiastic Mary had been I had
imagined that mothers lust-filled love would be multitudes better.

Mother opened her eyes and smiled sleepily toward me.  Beneath the
blanket I saw that her legs moved, her knees rubbing together in what
I had learnt to be from mothers barely-pent-up-lust.  "Morning honey!"

"What happened last night mom?"  My somber no humour voice caused her
to wake very quickly and she sat up, keeping the blanket about her
neck to hide what she had exposed beneath it.

Her voice took on that mature motherly tone, "What do you think
happened last night honey?"

I ignored her question.  "When did you start to feel this way mom?"

She swallowed heavily and looked off to the side of the room and
brought one hand up to yawn into - it was all feigned of course,
mother was stalling.  "What way honey?"

I barked rather harshly, "Do you wish me to say it mom?"

Her eyes spun back to mine and I saw that her play acting was gone -
that the woman that was a frustrated sexy slut from the night before
was the real private woman and not the public persona that all others
knew.  Embarrassed to be forced to review the unmentionable, at least
in the light of day, she mumbled, "Not long after I moved in."

Before I can follow that up with, what could have been one of two
dozen questions I had in my head, mother continued as if anxious to
get out the whole truth.  "I was so depressed after your father left
me... before he left me!  You took me in, and acted the way your
father should have - the way I always wanted him to be.  You were the
'man of the house' and I loved you more than ever.  The first time I
thought of you... that way... was when I went into your private
washroom to clean it up and I smelled your after shave, your hair and
body in the air.  I realized I loved that smell, a strong man, a man
who know what he wanted and one that knew how to go about getting it.
I stood there and imagined that you were not my son and that I would
do anything... anything... for a man like you.  But I realized that
fantasy was missing something, the love and the trust that I held for
no one else alive.  You were the perfect man, the only man for me and
I resolved to take care of you and do anything you wished.  Anything!"
Her eyes passed to me just how serious she was in that final
statement, her promise.

"Did you masturbate?"

Mother turned a bright red very quickly, and it humoured me - after
last night.  "Yes... I did."

"When did it include me?"  I was curious how I could end up in my own
mothers fantasies.

"I tried very hard not to think of you after those first thoughts
after cleaning your bathroom and for the most part I was successful.
It was after you told me to wear short skirts and to show my cleavage
- something snapped.  After that I could not... did not try to stop,
the images of us together."  She lowered her voice and said in a tiny
voice, "I really like dressing up for you honey."

I smiled softly, for the first time in a long while, "I enjoy when you
dress as I wished as well mother."

Mom was looking down at her feet, hanging just over the couch and off
the floor, swinging them nervously - her face still red and I realized
she was acting like some virginal teenager.

"Get rid of the blanket Jane."

Her eyes shot up toward mine, in surprise.  She could not hide her
pleased smile as she shoved the blanket off her body exposing her
tired old body.  She watched me closely as I looked down at her
disarranged nightie.

I was disappointed that her breast was covered, barely, beneath the
lace top of her nightgown since I had left it exposed last night.
That was easy to correct, "She me your tits mom."

Without hesitation she brought her hands up and pushed down the
spaghetti straps and followed them with her fingers so that the top of
her sexy gown was pressed quickly to her navel.  She wanted for me to
look upon her - to see her aged body - to see if I was pleased with
her.  I doubted there was anything more important, for mom, than for
her son, the man of the house, to find pleasure in her.

Her beasts, the both of them this time, were as I remembered - showing
their age but still attractive.  I let a part of my lust show and I
saw her shy smile out the corner of my eye, pleased at my obvious
visual enjoyment of her chest.

It all had to be out in the open, "Your getting old mom?"

I saw a flash of pain strike her face like a physical blow but it soon
softened and she slowly said, "I will always be here for you honey, I
will always be yours... if you want me or not.  I belong to you now
honey."  I heard the harsh determination in her voice and doubted not
her words.

"And you will do anything I tell you?"  I already knew the answer -
but sometimes questions and their answers needed to be voiced.

"Yes."

"Spread your legs mom."

I could feel her nervous tension relieve itself immediately and she
reached down to slip the hem of her nightgown to her stomach, so that
it bundled about her waist, and spread her knees as wide as she could
with her feet still dangling off the couch.  Mother even shuffled her
bottom toward the edge of the couch, to make it easier for me to view
what she had to offer.

I saw that place that I had touched last night.  It was thick lipped
and had bright pink inner lips poking out from between those outer
labia.  She had a full, and a rather wild, bush - darker than the hair
on her head by a few shades.  I thought, even from across the room, I
could see the moisture upon the inner wrinkled labia.

"I expect you to trim that before the day is over mother."  I nodded
with my chin toward that place between her legs.

A faint redness came to her cheeks as if embarrassed, "I'm sorry
honey... I should have done it before today."

I barked with feigned anger, "Don't apologize but just do what I tell
you mother!"

She swallowed thickly then replied, "It will be done before dinner
time today honey."

"Keep your knees spread Jane, but lift them up."

She did, so that her bare feet were well above her head, her toes
pointing at the ceiling.  I had my doubts that mother had ever been
exposed liked this for anyone outside her fantasies.  I could feel her
nervousness, her lust for me even now, here - in the light of the
morning.

"Your getting wet."

Her cheeks turned brighter red and I realized I enjoyed even this
quaint side of her.

"Why don't you run a finger up and down your cunt mother."  She paused
uncertain about exactly what I wanted, or not believing that I wanted
what she considered a private and personal thing.  She had promised me
her devotion and her lust, had she not, and if I wished I could be
much more demanding than this.

She slipped one hand down her stomach and slipped a finger into the
groove of her sex, moving it up and down the slit.  The finger, very
quickly, getting wet up to the third knuckle.

"You have a very pretty cunt mom."

Mother bit the bottom of her lip and groaned with pleasure, her sex,
though, seemed to flower open as if inviting me.  Strange that the
bawdy words seemed to empower her passion - as it seemed to do to me.

"Now mom, I want you to do one more thing for me."  Her eyes bored
into my own, anxious to please.  "I want you to masturbate for
me... orgasm for me."

"God yes honey!"

What followed was barely three minutes of the most amazing sight in
the world - that of my mother pleasuring herself.  At first I saw her
embarrassment, her old prudish values fighting against the will to do
as her son ordered.  But those soon disintegrated when the power of
her lust.  Her sex became incredibly wet, it sloshed as she sunk a
finger in and out of herself even while the other hand manipulated her
clitoris.  Her feet were waving about in the air as her hips pumped
off the couch, the skin of her ass sticking to my leather couch by her
wet clear juices that rolled from her cunt like a river and her anus
seeming to wink at me as her finger pumped within herself.

This was not the first woman I had seen masturbate but this was
somehow different.  Everything between mother and I was now different
- strangely wonderful in some new way.

After she was finished I strode over behind the couch and bent over to
kiss her sweaty forehead.  Looking up at me, our faces reversed, she
asked anxiously, "Did I do it OK honey?  Did I please you?"

"Shh! You must never ask me those questions mother - I will tell you
when I am unhappy with you."

Mother suddenly became serious and asked, "Do you promise me?"

I realized this was a question from her past, something that her
husband, my father, had not revealed - when he was unhappy with
mother, what he wanted from her, sexual or otherwise.  I answered
honestly, "I promise you mother."

Her eyes closed in pleasure and she smiled as I turned to ready myself
for work.

 -*-

The weeks passed and mother, if she had looked very fine in her new
clothing before, positively glowed with the openness of our new
relationship.  Every day that I was home, as I travelled frequently, I
pawed mothers body and she swooned with pleasure at each touch.  As if
each tweak of her nipple, squeeze of her ass, was validation for our
new found love and lust.  As well, she anxiously and with pleasure
revealed her body to me - only if I instructed of course - from
showing me her newly trimmed pussy to modelling her lingerie.  Then
came the random, but infrequent, requests for her to bare herself and
masturbate to orgasm for my visual pleasure.  It came as she stood in
the shower wet and sweating with the steam of the hot water and her
hot lust, to kneeling on the floor with her skirt up to her waist and
her panties about her knees, standing in the doorway to my private
office, in the middle of the day as I sat in deadlocked traffic with
the phone and the sounds of her pleasure in my ear, to watching her
shadowed movements in her own bed in the wee hours of the night.

To her credit, mother never questioned me why I did not go further -
to order her into my bed.  Though I could see the question just
beneath the layer of her happiness.

She smiled and mewed with pleasure when I called her 'my slut' or 'my
sexy little cunt'.  Mother lived more in her fantasies and less than
what she wanted in her formative teenage fantasies.  To be sure she
never thought she would be dominated, willingly, by her only child
after being rejected by the man she loved and married.  Nor that her
sexuality was on call to my slightest request by her only child.

For me though, I found myself in a perpetual state of excitement.  I
was enjoying what was happening between mother and I, but I needed an
outlet for what, I felt, I could not and should never do with my own
parent.  I used Mary frequently, much to her pleasure.  I also
restarted a, mostly, sexual relationship with a prior acquaintance, a
very sexy human resources head hunter that I had known a year before.
I had to hide these ladies from mother, of course, as I knew she would
be greatly hurt to learn that rather than use her - I chose to go for
pretty, younger, women.

It would be dad's denial all over again.

It would destroy my mother.

And with that, was the basis of my interest in considering... just
considering, mind you, that I could enjoy more of the delicious
baubles that mother had to offer.

Yes, you read correctly, I was starting to find myself dwelling upon
breaking my earlier plan that a squeeze and a quick kiss would
suffice.  I doubted it not that mother would wait forever, never
tasting what she has only ever had enjoyed in fantasy.  Make no doubt
that I did not live under the misunderstanding that it was only her
that wanted more - I did not.

Mother ran to the foyer as I got home from work, standing looking
naturally pretty - though I knew she had prepared for this moment for
much of her day.  Lately, mother had gotten into the habit to change
her clothing at least twice a day and somethings trice - so I could
enjoy a new sight of her.  After all this time, and all the money
spent, it was not like she did not have the clothing to choose from.

On the days that I had a good day at work she would get a kiss, and
maybe a little more, and other days that were not so good she received
barely a grunt of welcome.  This day I gave her a long wet kiss, my
hand slipping down and beneath her short skirt to play with the skin
of her upper thigh above her stocking.  She pressed against me in
need, groaning into my open mouth with lust.

Pulling from our kiss, but not her warm embrace and grinding groin, I
asked, "What is for supper mom?"

That was another thing, since she had moved in, my home has seen more
cooking than it has ever had.  It was even better than when I was a
kid, mother had no strict budget to consider and she loved to
experiment with new recipes that she thought I would enjoy.  I usually
did.

I slipped my hand beneath her skirt and fondled her barely covered
buttocks as she brought my filled plate to the table.  She gave me a
wide smile and waited for me to let go, never pulling away from me
when I reached for her, before sitting across the table.

After we both had our first bite I asked, "Tell me about the first
fantasy you had about me mom?"

"Do you mean sexual fantasy honey?"  She asked with a smirk, knowing
that I knew that she had romantic, home-orientated fantasies after
that life-altering moment in the privacy of my bathroom and before she
became aware of her sexual desire for me.

I only nodded.  Mother liked to be verbally playful at times, parrying
and thrusting with words.  She was, after all, an intelligent and
learnt mature woman.

Her cheeks turned red, and it was not from the green curry, but I
waited patiently.  "I... I dropped your supper onto your lap
accidentally and... you jumped up furious.  You pushed me over the
table and yanked off my skirt and panties and then whipped me with
your belt."  I must have had my mouth open in astonishment as mother
continued, not able to look into my eyes.  "Then you removed your
pants and fucked me till I felt you finish inside me."  Mother looked
up at me and saw my wide-eyed surprise.  "What did you expect honey?
I was feeling guilty about how I was feeling!  The only way that that
first time between us could happen... you had to force me."  She was
embarrassed at her admission and by my silent response.

Mother fantasied I raped her.

I remembered, fondly, a girlfriend from University, "Did you ever
think of me as I tied you up?"

The red cheeks were still there and mother could not meet my eyes and
beneath the table, I thought I heard the distinctive sound of nylon
rubbing together.  "Yes honey, I do."

"Do these stem from guilt as well mother?"  Remember when I told you
about questions that needed to voiced?

"No honey, they don't."

So mom wanted me to tie her up as well.

She suddenly volunteered, "When I was a young girl I used to fantasize
about being captured by pirates, bandits, it doesn't matter, but as I
got older it became less romantic and more sexual."

I had no comment to follow up with and mother and I ate in silence the
rest of the meal.

 -*-

Mother stood in black stockings and heels with a black silk scarf tied
around her head, covering her eyes, in the middle of the living room.
She wore nothing else.

Her nails, and for the first time since in my life, were a centimetre
long and she scratched on the outside of both her thighs nervously.

"You are getting excited mom - I can smell you."

She did not acknowledge my comment at all - but I saw that her
knuckles had turned white.  It was not the first time that I had
revealed the obvious smell of her passion, or how much I enjoyed it.

"Does standing naked in the middle of the living room excite you
Jane?"

She took a long while before answering, "I get excited any time you
look at me honey."  I have had ample evidence that that was indeed
true.

I laid my hand on the inside upward curve of one butt cheek and asked,
"And when I touch you mother?"

She smiled widely, "I love when you touch me honey."

I leaned forward to smell her clean hair and then downward to smell
the scented skin at the nape of the neck.  She sensed my proximity and
arched her neck out for me, inviting me, moaning pleasantly.  Mothers
neck was a strong erogenous zone, I have learnt.

I finally whispered into her ear, "Cross your wrists behind your back
'slave'!"

A shiver ran through her body as she groaned, her hands quickly moving
behind her.  This was what she wished to be, this was a request from
her fantasies.

The second black silk scarf quickly bound her wrists expertly
together.  When I was done I again whispered into her ear, "That is
what you were in your teenage fantasies, wasn't it mother?  A
'slave'?"

She hung her head down, toward the floor, and whispered, "Yes".

"What does that make me mother?"

She again whispered, "My 'master'."

"That was all that young girl wanted - to belong to a single strong
man, one that would make her do things she had never done and may not
even want to do, to treat her both as a lady and a slut, that her
sexuality only existed for the use of her 'master'.  Isn't that right
Jane?"

The more I spoke, the harsher mom's breathing became, the faster her
thighs rubbed together and the more frequent the full-body shivers hit
her.  "Yes honey.  Yes... yes!"

"You chose me because I am that man in your teenage dreams."

It wasn't a question but she immediately answered anyways, "Yes!"

"You only want to be the slut behind the man, to be the pleasures of
his success?"

"Yes!"

"Get on your knees mother!"

She had been in almost a trance at my words and it took a full minute
before she realized my instruction.  Awkward, she knelt upon the
carpeted floor facing away from me, blind and bound and feeling like
her whole life had lead up to this moment.  That young girl had keep
her fantasies private and even denied an outlet in her marriage bed.
She had learnt a difficult lesson, I can easily assume.

I walked around so that my crotch was mere centimetres from her face.
"From now on your not my mother; your a slut, a slave and a shy
teenage girl.  Your body is mine and every hole is available for me.
I will spank you when your bad and bring you pleasure when you are
good."  She was swaying on her knees as if she were about to faint.

Slowly, I unzipped my slacks, the sound thunderous in the large
cavernous room.  Mother gasped and then held her breath, tilting her
head up toward the sound.

Soon I stood naked, there right before her blinded face was my hard
cock.  That male pole that she had certainly desired these long weeks
and months.  It was the single scale that she weighed her womanly self
against - it was the alter to her dreams to her future life of
pleasure.

"I am hard for you mother."  She groaned and I realized her body was
shinning with a layer of sweat but continuously quivering as if cold.

I walked slowly around her, enjoying the moment, stroking my hard cock
while looking upon the kneeling parent before me.  "What are you
feeling mother?"  I realized her eyes were the portal to her soul and
by being blinded I had a difficult time in reading her.

In a tiny voice, "I am scared honey."

Scared?  Of being hurt?  Of finding more joy than she thought herself
capable of?  Of the impending incest?

"Then perhaps I should rape you mother?"  Of course asking your victim
if you could rape them was ludicrous, as was the rape of mother by
me... if there had ever been a willing partner...!

She groaned loudly and lost control of her balance that she started to
topple forward.  Roughly grabbing a handful of her hair I pulled her
back into an upright position.  "I never gave you permission to move
slave!"

When mother and I were together I found myself in the uncommon
position of living my life without a plan.  No schedule in my
handhold, no feeling the need to rush out for a meeting, not even
caring what was happening in the outside world.  All that mattered was
here kneeling before me.  This was an escape from the successes, and
the stresses that accompanies success - and I was enjoying it!

The third scarf tightly bound her ankles together and I made great
effort to ensure her high heels stayed on her feet.

Gently I pushed mother to the side and she fell onto her hip and
shoulder, squealing in surprise.  Then with the fourth scarf, I
quickly bound her wrists to her ankles behind her.  She gasped at the
awkward situation, she also shivered whenever my hand touched her
smooth hot skin.

"God damned mom, you look sexy!"  I stood above her, stroking my hard
cock while studying her bound and helpless body.

She moaned yet again, and wiggled about.  It was a sight to see mother
trying to rub her soft thighs together while her arms and ankles were
bound behind her.

I sat down on the carpet before her sexy pale body and reached out to
fondle a breast with one hand and, with the other, to slip it over the
short trimmed brown bush.  A finger slipped down into the wet hot
groove hidden between her closed legs.  In her reverse-fetal position,
she tried to move her chest and groin to the maximum advantage of my
hands, but it was near impossible as she was bound - mother was at my
whim.

I moved so that I was kneeling next to her chest, my cock directly
over her face.  With one hand still between her legs, teasing her
clitoris, I stroked myself with the other.

What I was about to do was nasty but it was something that I had never
done to a woman, something I had never considered with my own parent
definitely.

I could tell that mother was straining her ears to hear the sounds of
my hand moving up and down the length of my hard cock, my heavy
breathing and she had to know what was coming.  Hell, mother had her
mouth wide open as if wanting to catch every drop of what I had to
offer.

It was obscene and I loved it.

The first shot, after a grunt of a warning from my lips, shot out and
hit mothers hairline and forehead.  The next, just beneath her nose
and into her open mouth.  The next few pumping out to splatter mothers
white breasts and chin.

While I endured that ecstasy, and it was a pure delight that I finally
had some type of outlet for the frustrations that had been building
up, I heard and then watched mother as she orgasmed beneath me.

I lay down next to her on the rough carpet, my hand still between her
thighs, as the both of us caught our breathing.

After an orgasm mother's skin always shone with a layer of sweat - but
this time there was pearl coloured splotches upon her sexy smooth
skin.  With my free hand I scooped up one dollop from her breast and
brought it to her partially opened mouth.  It initially surprised her
but when she realized what I was doing she sucked hungrily.  "Thats it
mom... eat it like a good little girl!"  I found another dollop and
brought it to her lips.  "Any slave of mine will have to love the
taste of my come... because she will be getting plenty of it!"  I
chuckled mercilessly.

 -*-

It was criminal what I was doing to mom.  And I do not mean the incest
or the bondage - I mean using the weakness of her heart and emotions
to enslave her to my wishes, my desires.  If I told my mother to get
on her knees and bark like a dog, she would do it immediately.  She
may pause if I brought over a friend and told her to suck him off -
but all I would have to say, since I understood her weakness, that I
loved her and if she loved me and wanted to stay in my life she would
do this thing for me.  She may not enjoy it but she would do it.

The thing was, mother seemed to really get off with me, for me.  I
suspect it was a subliminal defence pattern after the two plus decade
failure of my parents marriage.  To mom, I was her man and as such
nothing would stand in the way of pleasing me.  That included becoming
the submissive slut that she was being molded into by her very own
son.

I was looking at this as another jewel in my crown as proof of my
success.  Here I sat at my desk, at home, and I knew, with an absolute
certainty that mother was simply a call away.  "Mom?  Come up here
please."

Mother rarely interrupted me when I was in my home office - as work is
so important to me that I took a dim light for any intrusion.  This
was different.  You see, when I was 'playing' with mother, I let go of
all my mental professional burdens.  In a strange twist this had
helped my professional endeavours - giving me a private outlet so that
I was able to better focus my mind when working.  It seemed that my
memory was better at work, that I was able to remember conversations
with clients months after meeting them, to remember the name of their
stupid dog or wife or hobby.

Mom opened my door and appeared wearing attractive and sexy clothing
and a pleasant smile.  I let her stand there as I enjoyed the sight of
her - she was as I had made her.  Since moving into my home, mother
had lost a few pounds and had added some definition to her already
sexy legs and ass.  When I looked back up to her face and saw that her
cheeks had a light pleased hue to them.

"Remove all your clothing - but the stockings and heels."  Both of
which were white and I was starting to come to the conclusion that she
looked very sexy in white lingerie.

She did not hesitate but to her credit at sensing her son's mood, she
moved slowly but with purpose.  This was no striptease but a slow
disrobing for a man who owned this body and the soul within.  Mother
knew I was attracted to her mature body and I could sense a pride
within her at being desired by the only man who mattered.  It was the
proof of her single purpose in her life.

Even with slow movements she stood straight in my doorway wearing only
the thigh high white stocking and the six centimetre white heels.

"Your to wear nothing else today mother."

"Yes honey."

"Now pick up your clothing and close my door."

She paused only a second but immediately bent to retrieve her fine
clothing and soon my door was closed and I was left with my thoughts.

I had determined that if I was being cruel by manipulating my
emotional frail mother, and enjoying it as if it was mine by right of
success, then there was nothing I could not do to or with her.
Mother, certainly, was not a barrier to my desires.

What I was getting at, was that I have been having these kinky desires
of dildos, leather belts, nipple clamps, collars and leashes.  And
that was only the tip of my thoughts.

Evil wasn't it?

Yet I have yet to copulate our relationship.  Meaning I have yet to
fuck her.

There was something holding me back.  I have finger-banged her
numerous times, tied her up a dozen times and jerked off onto her face
and body a handful of times.  Mother loved every second that I looked
at her let alone found the desire within me to touch her, to bring her
to orgasm.  And orgasms there were, in plenty.  Her body responded
like something out of a dream, her sex flowing generously and her cunt
quickly climaxing in a very short length of time.

If that was the sum of our sexual relationship, mother would be happy,
as long as I was.  But I wasn't.  I wanted to fuck her - yet I still
visited the two women for some good old fashioned humping.  What I was
contemplating was resolving to have only one woman in my life - to
have sex with only one.

As my success grew, in the years leading up to now, I had ignored the
desires of my body and used that energy toward working long and hard
hours.  Oh sure I had known the infrequent woman that thrilled me -
but I immediately pushed all away that I became infatuated with, that
may distract me from my ambitious drive.  What mother was offering was
love, lust and fulfilment without the limitations on my life that I
would worry about with another woman.

As you could tell, I was convincing myself about mothers usefulness,
about taking that next mental and physical step.

 -*-

The collar looked very good on her.  Black leather with a gold plated
buckle and studded diamonds.  Inside was a subscription, "To my slut,
with all my love."  It pleased mother immensely when I handed it to
her at the restaurant - though she was nervous that someone else my
see and realize who and what we were.  On the drive home, I had her
put it about her neck and strip down to her stockings and heels - her
new home-uniform.  As I drove, mother masturbated as ordered
orgasming, also as ordered, as we pulled into our street.

When the door to the private garage closed, mother collected her
clothing and followed me into our home.  Her near-naked body was
glistening with sweat and quivering in post-orgasmic tension.

I turned after she closed the door to the garage.  "Go have a shower
mom and return to my bedroom wearing only the collar."  I turned and
strode away even as she answered.

"Yes honey."

In minutes she stood, freshly prepared, naked but for the leather
collar, standing at the foot of my large bed.  Her body radiated a
multitude of lights as the candles flickered upon her skin.  Randomly,
a violent shiver ran across mothers body and I knew this to be her
barely-pent up sexuality, anticipating its release.

I let her stand there, knowing that she was on display for my visual
pleasure, as she was since she had moved into my home.  Yet her eyes
only looked upon one thing, my half-hard cock flopped over to my left
thigh.

My voice caused her to jerk in surprise, "Once you climb onto this bed
mother - nothing between us will ever be like it was!"

Mother licked her lips and brought her eyes to my own, and I saw that
they were teared up.

Since no comment was coming, I continued, "I will own you, body and
soul."

Her voice cracked and it sounded incredibly hoarse, "Yes honey."

"I will never discard you, you will always be in my life."

A single tear down down her left cheek and I could not discern if it
was happiness or fear that caused it.

"I will spoil you, pamper you and use you as I wish.  Sexually and
otherwise."  She licked her lips again and reached out to grasp the
hard wood footer of my bed.  "I may even bring other women into my
bed", I watched her intently at this stage, "but they will only be
meaningless to me."  I was going to add that she may be ordered to
join some future slut and I, but thought it untimely.

"I understand honey."

But I didn't, and barked, "Why don't you explain it to me mom?"

She paused as if to increase her resolve, "I understand that you may
want another woman.  I can't promise I won't be jealous but I do
promise that I will never let another woman come between us - if you
don't."  There it was, the submissive way of asking that I will always
return to the roost after visiting another hen house.

"I don't foresee ever sharing you with another man, but that may
change in the future."  Mother looked suddenly nervous but recovered
quickly.  "Do you have any idea what you will be mother?"

She didn't say a word but nodded barely perceptibly.

"Say it!"

"I will be your slave."  Her voice was firmer and she looked me
aggressively in the eye.  I could see that this title or what it
implied did not inhibited her in any way.

I nodded, "If you every say 'no' to me mom, that will be the moment
that I will reevaluate our relationship, and I may discard you,
freely.  Do you understand mother?"  This was my trump card, it was
out in the open, that if she ever denied me anything I could kick her
out of my home and our new life.

This, of course, was something that she would vehemently ensure never
happened.  She would walk naked through a large common room in a jail
with crowded inmates, if I so ordered.  I could order her to suck my
sperm from some slut I bring home, I could lend her to my boss for a
night, or simply have her blow my guests at the next dinner party I
threw.  There was no doubt she would do it, she would do anything I
ordered.

I nodded down to my lap, my cock having grown to its full height
during our talk.  "This is it mom, this is the moment that will
forever change our lives.  You can walk out right now and I will
continue to support you, but you will need to move out of course, and
you will always be my mother.  Climb up here and sit on my cock and
the bond between us will be sealed."

She hesitated for about ten seconds and then, slowly and carefully she
walked about to the side of the bed and then crawled up onto it.  Her
arms were quivering and I could see that she was incredibly nervous.
I did not move and did not help her, but only watched with a detached
lust for her, for what was about to happen.

Carefully, so not to hurt me, she straddled my waist, so that she was
kneeling above my lap.  Then she reached down between us, going for my
cock and I grunted, "No hands mom!"

She bit the bottom of her lip as she wiggled her hips until I felt it,
the hot molten cunt kiss the head of my hard circumcised cock.  Her
hands dropped down flat on my chest as she settled directly over my
dick, ready to plunge.

"Is this what you want mom?"

Her face came up and I saw that she bore a dam of barely pent up
happiness, anticipation.  I knew the answer even as she whispered with
difficultly, "Yes honey."

"Then do it!"

She did.

Plunging her hips rapidly down, I felt my dick torpedo into the new
body.  It was as hot and wet as I had anticipated, perhaps more so.
It was also a snug fit for my cock, a near perfect glove to my
manhood.

Mother sat upon me for less then five seconds before she gasped out,
nearly screaming, as she her body began to spasm and I could feel her
cunt twitch and grasp me as her orgasm ran through her.  I watched,
enjoying the sight and feel of what I had resolved to be the only
woman, the only love, in my life.

I let her sit upon my throne and regain her breath, while my hands
held those round sexy ass cheeks possessively.  When I determined that
she had rested long enough I grunted, "Get this ass moving slut!"

Wearily, I felt her slowly lift her hips until only the head of my
dick was still within her before she rapidly thrust herself back down
to my lap.  A loud wet bawdy noise echoed from between our legs and
the smell of her pleasure already thick within my large bedroom.

She continued this way for a very long time, ever so slowly lift
herself nearly off me before thrusting rapidly down.  Mother squealed
in surprise and pleasure as my middle finger roughly pressed into her
anus while my other hand tweaked one nipple.

The minutes passed and I was amazed that I had not yet finished -
giving credit to mothers technique.  Using the finger in her ass, I
guided her to speed up - I was anxious to finish, to pump my
incestuous seed within her body.  "Faster!"

The bed began to bounce and the room echoed with wild sexual noises as
our two sweaty bodies met and intertwined again and again.  Distantly
I could hear my own heavy breathing, the grunts of pleasure.  Mother
kept repeating 'yes' over and over, her eyes closed and her body
dripping slick with sweat that rippled seductively as we clashed.

I rapidly took my hand from her breast to her buttock and using that
plus the finger within her rear passage, I pressed her down so that my
cock was fully seated within her body.  A small squeal hissed through
my tensed body, and it felt like my cock was ballooning in size in the
final seconds before the inevitable.

A part of me was conscious that mothers orgasm started just before my
own, as I was tense like a board beneath her above me her soft sexy
body was jerking and shaking incredibly.

Then it happened and my own climax shot out like a cannon within her
willing body.  We endured our mutual orgasms like mirror images and I
realized that this was the true bind between us, not simply putting
myself within her body.  This, the mingling of our juices, of
orgasming simultaneously together and for the other.

 -*-

Showering had always been something that was necessary but was endured
with dispatch.  That had changed in the last weeks, as it was the time
that mother was allowed to pleasure and wash me before I started
another long stressful day.  She had become the perfect companion, the
perfect slave since that first night together.  Never asking for
anything, never disagreeing and always available.  My moods,
especially during work, or late at night as I worked on some proposal
or another and I ended up growling at her, never seemed to affect her.
She knew my anger was simply my frustration that accompanied my drive
for success - that I loved her and would require her body without any
hint of anger after my mood passed.

Kneeling below me, in the comfortable sized white shower, mother
sucked me in long slow strokes, both her hands upon my ass cheeks as
if afraid I should pull out from within her.  Both my hands held a
handful of her short stylish wet hair and my hips pumped gently in
time to her hungry lips.

Since that first night, and after several discussions with mother - I
had learnt that I had more world-erotic experience that she had.  That
her mouth and ass had never felt a man before I, and that within my
parents marriage, sex was something that was done in the dark with dad
on top.  From the beginning, after she moved in, when she contemplated
and fantasized with me as the man in her life, she knew it would not
be that way between us.  For mother, this was something only to look
forward too and thus far, loved all that I have done with her.

So far, between us, all was enjoyed.  She loved my cock particularly -
anywhere and any how, inside or out.  I surmised that this was due to
her subconscious linking of sex with pleasure, of giving all that I
could take so that I never tired of her.  And how do you give a man
pleasure - through his cock of course!

Here in the shower, it was the only break in my day before work was
complete that I allowed most days.  Perhaps it was only a quick blow
job, if I was stressed about my schedule, or maybe a long slow fuck.
I considered what this day held as that wonderful loving mouth sucked
me without fail but I felt an urge for more.  None too gently I pulled
mother up from her kneeling position and turned her to face the tiled
wall.  She had been used in this fashion before, having loved it of
course, but knowing enough to bend over at the waist and arch her back
so her ass is more prominent.

There, lower down on her white ass, was the small tattoo that I
ordered her to get just after we consummated our new life.  'Property
of...' around the circumference of a thick gray chain.  Surprisingly,
my mother had even done this act willingly - since it bound us
together even more.

I had to slap her wet ass until she remembered to stretch up onto her
toes.  That was when I advanced upon her, easily sliding within her
ready body.  My hands came around and grasped her hanging udders and
began to ride her with passion, driving her against the wall and
slapping our wet bodies loudly.  She grunted with every thrust of my
prick, the side of her face pasted against the tiles.  Mother thrust
her ass back and down, as I pushed forward.

I was determined to make this a delightful coupling - as my day
promised to be a difficult and a long endurance test.  So I fucked
roughly but with long even strokes - simply enjoying the tautness of
her vagina as it hugged and squeezed my dick.  I will say it again, as
I have thought of it numerous times, that mothers cunt was as if made
for my dick.

My dick was lasting a long time, and mother was working toward her
second orgasm while I fucked her.  I had come to expect her to orgasm
almost upon command.  The trick was to show her love and lust, mixed
with a little abrupt sexuality and her cunt flowed with juices.  She
became positively a quivering mass of expectant flesh when I treated
her roughly and possessively, like a slut.  She loved it.  She loved
me.

After her second orgasm I yanked from her body for the second time
since this shower had started, turned and pushed her to her knees yet
again before me.  It was so hard that it actually throbbed painfully.
Mother took my slimy cock within her mouth quickly, else the shower
water would wash off her thick clear juices.  As well as my come,
mother, I had told her, must love the taste of her own sex - in this
as well as every other instruction, mother took it to heart.

It would not be long now.

I shoved into her face harshly, feeling the head of my dick slam into
the back of her throat infrequently.  I held her head in my hands,
holding her still as I face-fucked her toward my ultimate pleasure.

This was it - this was the reason for accepting this new life for
mother and I.  She was an available release for my sexual energy, my
sexual frustrations.  She was the taste of success - proof that all my
hard work was worth it!  Oh, not to think me callus, she got something
as well.  She received a stable home life, a man who loved and lusted
after her, but most of all she felt like a woman as well as that
teenage virginal girl dreaming about pirates.  Whom else but I could
give her all that.

My orgasm started with the sharp jerks of my dick, it jumped within
mothers mouth as I held her head with my hands, her forehead on my
stomach and her lips about the curls of my pubic hair.  Even above the
sound of the shower I could hear her swallowing loudly, fighting the
gagging reflex.

As soon as I let her go she pulled her mouth from my rapidly shrinking
dick, gave it a little kiss and then reached for the soap.  I simply
stood, in the after-orgasm haze and enjoyed as I was bathed completely
and expertly.

 -*-

The chair was found to be the right height that the top edge stood
just below mothers hips.  She was bent at the waist, fully unclothed -
not even lingerie, as was the norm - so that her head almost hit the
seat of the chair.  Her ankles were bound with leather straps about
the opposite rear legs of the chair and her arms were stretched
forward and down, to the other two chair legs.  A sexy lace pair of
her panties was shoved unceremoniously into her mouth, still damp and
warm at the time of entry, so that her cheeks bulged out.

Mother was trying to look over her shoulder to where I stood behind
her, also naked.  Her face was bright red from having it bent for so
long.  My hard cock was pressed into her super-wet vagina, newly
shaved bare by my instruction.  I had the thumb of my left hand fully
submerged into the well-greased passage of my mothers relaxed
distended anus.  Both my cock and my thumb moved in unison, slowly
fucking the bound sexy body before me.

Her normally pale smooth white skin of her ass was red and glowing,
the submissive tattoo on her ass seemed to glow - my discarded leather
belt on the floor with the rest of my clothing.  It wasn't the first
such punishment for her, as it was becoming our normal method of
solving a 'disagreement', but it was the first in the dining room with
the windows wide and her bound over the chair.

Mothers discretion did not match the punishment - but then, I being
the dominant, did not need to give a reason to my slutty slave to hit
her sexy bottom.

I did it because I enjoyed it.

A whining sound escaped from her gagged mouth each time I slowly moved
deeper into her body.

There was another reason why I trussed her up like this, I had to tell
her something I knew she dreaded.  "There is a Christmas party coming
up mother!"  My hips started to speed up and I knew she was heading
toward yet another orgasm.  "It is at my bosses house."

I suddenly felt a new tension in the body before me, and it was not
the impending orgasm either.  Since the last time my boss felt her up,
she has feared the next confrontation.  I had told her that she was an
intelligent woman, that she should be able to keep my boss in his
place.  What I didn't tell her was that I considered using my mothers
submission as a way to whore her ass to my boss - but discounted it
when I considered how easily he throws away his young attractive
secretaries after he is done with them.

I will not to be discarded and knew the old man would not hold any
denial from my mother negatively toward my professional relationship
with him.  At least I hoped not.

 -*-

I had seen the confrontation from across the large marble-floored
room, even with dozens of people standing about and drinking, waiters
flowing through the bodies and the noise amplified by the large domed
ceiling.

I saw my bosses hand drop to his side and then move quickly behind my
mothers waist.  I saw her stiffen up and move her knees closer
together.  Then I saw the old man look surprised and leaned in to ask
a short question.  Mother had answered with an equally short answer.

My boss suddenly froze, his face turned white and then his eyes sought
me out in the crowd.  When they found me he raised his wine glass in
tribute, a small amused smile upon his pale thin lips, as he moved
away from mother and into the traffic.

That had been hours ago and since then I had not been alone with
mother to discover what she had told him.  Seated silently, almost
nervously, in the passenger seat of my car - I pulled out into the
late night traffic, heading home.

"Did my boss find the plug?"  Minutes before leaving for the party, I
had mother lift her expensive skirt, drop her black bikini lace
panties, and then I lubricated her rectum sufficiently to insert a
wide pink butt plug.  It was not the first time she had worn one but I
still enjoyed seeing her obvious discomfort randomly throughout the
party.

"Yes."  She was nervous and I wasn't sure why!

"Was that what startled him?"

She didn't answer right away so I barked a warning, "Mom?"

"He was surprised by the plug in my ass but then he asked me if I was
getting ready for someone special tonight."  I could almost her him
asking that question; flirting with the younger woman, his tone
suggesting that he was that special 'someone'.

Mothers reluctance to continue was getting frustrating and I barked
yet again, "And?"

"I told him that you had a larger than average cock and that whenever
you wanted to have anal sex that you used the plug to stretch me."

Her statement almost caused me to drive off into the ditch in
surprise.  Mother had told my boss that she and I were intimate - not
only that but hinted that the relationship took on a dominant role
with me in the lead.

No wonder mother was nervous about telling me this - it had the
makings of ruining me.

Us!

Then I remembered that silent toast from across the room as my boss
had raised his glass.  I've seen that appreciative look from him
before - when he congratulates a person with a horse that had just
finished first, when he steps onto a multi-million dollar yacht, and
evidently, now when he discovers his employee fucked his attractive
submissive mother.

Evidently, mother was certainly the pleasures of my success.

--

