Title: My Little Problem
Keywords: mF, teen, inc, mom, son, cheat, anal, spank, bond, mdom, mat, size
Author: Caesar
Summary: A submissive mother has a problem with her dominant son and recounts how she became her sons slave and wonders if she can complete her transformation.







There was a young lady of Kent,
Who admitted she knew what it meant
        When men asked her to dine,
        And plied her with wine,
She knew, oh she knew -- but she went!
 

My Little Problem

by Caesar, copyright 2003

$Revision: 1.9 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $

I have this little problem!

Its really my own fault - of course - and I can not admit that I
regret the path that lay to where I now find myself in.  Yet I feel so
dirty, so naughty and so vulgar and do you want to know something - I
love it!

Every minute of the day I think about it - all the times that I gave
in to him... to my own lust.  It was the burning of my soul that
started it - the passion that a middle-aged woman experiences so that
every thought was hinged with sex.  I could be making supper, perhaps
chopping large carrots, and I would think sex.  The carrots becoming
sexy orange phallus symbols to my hot passionate mind.  I was becoming
insatiable!

My husband was less than empathetic.  Our sex life had increased
lately, from my own aggression, yet never more than once a week.  I
begged, I prostituted my body to my husband - if only he would fuck
me, suck me, let me be a slut for the man whom I gave my marriage vows
too those many years before.

It did not start consciously - I did not wake up one day and think
that I was going to seduce my son.

Yet that is exactly what happened - my husband had left early to go
golfing, as he does every Saturday morning - and as I opened the
doorway to my sons' room, there it was hard and pointing toward the
ceiling.  God - just thinking about the first look at my son's
grown-up cock still gives me a rush that ends between my legs.  It was
half as much longer than my husbands and twice as wide - a fucking
work of art and that first look made my mouth water and my knees weak.

I can not even say that what I did next was willing, since in my own
memory its like a distant dream, real but cloudy.  I don't need to go
into details here - but I strode into my son's room and nothing has
been the same since.

I love my husband - never doubt that.  My obsession with my son, with
what lay between his legs, is beyond my control.  Thats what I've
resolved after these few months of bliss.  Of course my husband does
not know - and can never know - but that is part of the problem, Glen
is becoming much more demanding and uninhibited!

As I said - its only part of the problem.  There are so many layers -
how do I start?

In the beginning Glen was like a puppy - ready to please, his cock
always hard when his horny mother beckoned him.  Those first weeks
were like a private little haven - where we indulged in conservative
sex whenever I could arrange at least a few hours alone in the house
together.  It felt so clandestine, so nasty to me - that I loved it.
He was my own personal boy-toy, and his massive cock gave me more
pleasure than I thought I would ever have again from a man.

Perhaps when I started to become more casual for my son - laying with
him afterwards, talking about what turned us on and me getting turned
on by and what I thought about what we were doing. And even innocent
things my son desired to do with me.

Not since early in my marriage did I wear the lingerie that I wore for
my son Glen - and I loved how his eyes lite up the first time he saw
me in stockings, garters, heels and push-up bra.  That, of course,
only enticed me to dress in sexy clothing more often for my son.

What forty three year old woman can not stop the pleasure that roared
through her heart, mind and soul as a young man lusts so openly after
her.  Looks upon her with eyes that she had not felt or seen in so
very long - not even by her own husband.

For me - that it was my own son that looked at me in this way, only
heightened the lust that coursed through my veins.

Alone in the house, dressed so provocatively - my body roared with a
blaze that my son could only extinguish.  And he often hosed my fire
down at least twice, often as much as four times in any given
afternoon.

Laying sated and in the arms of my illicit lover and son, I would ask
him what he thinks about, what he desires... where, when and how.  It
turned me on - the things that he whispered to me.  At first he was
shy and tentative - but he opened up when he realized that his
fantasies soon became my own, and we often lived them out not long
after the telling.

That is how I began to suck on my son's large beautiful cock.  Its not
the first cock I've taken into my mouth, of course, but it was the
first that I sucked to completion.  It was nasty, a mother sucking her
son until she half-chocked on his pumping nectar - and I loved every
second!

Nothing seemed impossible for us - our secret affair safe in the veil
of our lust.

Perhaps I should mention that my son, at this period in our
relationship, followed my requests that outside our rendezvous we
continue to be mother and her son.  In the first weeks after that
first Saturday morning it was not so difficult as you may think.  I
simply had a secret lover with a huge ready cock and it had nothing to
do with my husband.  Glen had a more difficult time of it those first
weeks - his eyes following me, remembering and thinking about the next
time we could be together.

Oh, I am not so innocent myself.  As our relationship progressed, I
could not be in the same room as my son and feel his masculine
presence - can not stop thinking about what his seed tastes like, his
hardness between my legs as it moved so deliciously and filled me like
I have never been filled in my life.  Even the smell of him - as he
works himself into a lather as he pumps rapidly into his mother.  As
the weeks progressed, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be
maternal with my son.

I should thank god that my husband is so self absorbed that he has
never noticed anything between his child and I!

The first time I let my son enter my ass was painful and filled with
exquisite bliss all mixed together.  My son professed to love just the
sight of my ass over my large breasts or shapely legs.  Our talks
progressed to his fingers or tongue pressing into my rectum, and
knowing my son's desires, felt my own mirroring his own - and loved
the attention back there!  Having his penis enter me was only natural.
He was clean, gentle and considerate as he did everything to ease this
first for us both.  It took almost ninety minutes, that first time,
until I was relaxed enough for his fat circumcised penis to enter me.
That first Saturday morning when I felt his cock fill and reach
further into me than ever before is nothing like having that same
beautiful large cock pierce your virgin ass hole.  By the time he was
able to move within me I was thrashing about his bed in passion, waves
of orgasm shooting through me.

If having an affair with your teenage son is not enough, telling your
best friend had to be the stupidest thing I could have done.  No I did
not reveal that it was my son and as much as she tried to pry it from
me, would not reveal whom the lover is with the large gorgeous cock
that took my anal cherry.

Sherry hung on my every word - asking for details politely throughout
my stories.  She laughingly joked that our weekly chats were enough to
fuel her own fantasies for the rest of her week - better masturbation
material than even the smut on the Internet.

I laughed with her and naively felt privileged to be the one with the
lover and not the one only hearing about it.  Unlike my husband,
Sherry's had not touched her in months.

Glen and I had graduated from fornicating in his bed to any place in
our large comfortable home.  I bent over the kitchen table and
screamed as my son ploughed me from behind.  Or I above my son, on the
expensive leather couch in the living room, bouncing rapidly.  And one
of my personal favourites - with him seated on the side of the jacuzzi
tub while I knelt nearly submerged in the water and sucked him off.

I should describe that I'm not a forty-three year-old woman with the
body half my age, or the face of a teenager.  I wish it was true!  My
body could be described as comfortable with still an attractive
hourglass shape that I worked hard to keep.  My face is attractive -
but I looked my age.  OK, you want it cold and raw; I have thick
fake-red hair that is straight but has my bangs cut in front, I have
average 'C' cup breasts with wide dark nipples which hang lower than
they did when I was twenty, I have white stretch marks on my lower
abdomen from carrying Glen before he was born, I have a thick curly
brown trimmed pussy and I keep my outer labia bare since Glen and I
have become lovers, my waist is small so that my hips flare out
provocatively, my ass is larger than I would like as it thrusts out
from my back but Glen can not get enough of it so I guess it is just
fine, my legs would have to be my favourite part of my body as they
are still shapely and strong and look damned fine in hose and high
heels.

In the first weeks my son worshipped me - I saw it in his eyes and I
would jokingly tell him to blink more often.  As the weeks passed, he
became more comfortable with my body but still his eyes would feast
upon me - taking what I had to offer and enjoying.

A woman needs to know that she has a man who lusts over her - a man
who can not get enough of looking at her, imperfections and all, and
his eyes betrayed his lust.  That it was my son looking at me this way
only intensified the feminine feelings that I felt, the love.

The first time I saw a man masturbate, while he watched me do the same
- which was also a first, my passion for our relationship rose to new
heights.  All because a man could look upon me, stroke his rock hard
dick and eventually orgasm and stayed hard until I came by my own hand
a minute later.

How can any sane middle-aged woman turn away from such mutual lust?
How can she deny that man anything he may want?

I look back and think of it like a old fashioned scale; the one side
weighted down is me, up to the time Glen and I began the new stage of
our relationship.  As we progressed, as I fell so completely in love
and lust for him, the scale began to shift so that his side began to
lower and my own raise.  That scale symbolizes the one who held the
upper hand in our relationship, the more dominant one of the two of
us.

A small grasp of my breast when his father is only in the next room
seemed acceptable.  I did not initiate it but I did not deny my son
anything, I could not!  He would stand behind me and grind his
hardness into the crack of my ass as both his hands grappled my
covered chest.  His lips whispering his love for me into my ear
between licks of his tongue on my neck.

Even at the height of our sexual marriage, my husband and I never
acted this way - he never felt the desire to touch his willing wife so
provocatively.  And never in the kitchen, with me standing over a sink
filled with dirty dishes and arms sunk in the sudsy water to the
elbow!

I was the luckiest woman in the world and though I knew the scales of
our relationship was tipping in my son's favour, I could care less.

Of all my little problems, that is probably the most significant.
That I willing succumbed to my son's naturally emerging sexual
aggression and desires.

His eyes still lusted for his mother whenever I dropped my robe
revealing my latest lingerie combination but it also held something
new, something that I have never seen in my young man ever before.

Just a month into our new relationship and I knew what that new glint
in my son's eye was, power!  And do you want to know something - it
turned me on even more!

The first hint of Glen's use of his newfound power while having sex
with me occurred not long after the ass-grinding tit-fondling
incident.  With my son seated at the tail end of his parents bed while
his mother knelt between his gorgeous sculptured thighs and worshipped
his penis with my mouth.  His father was due home within the hour and
Glen and I had just enjoyed a few hours of mutual pleasure.  We had
separated and I had thought our time together for the day at an end -
but as I came from my bathroom wearing only a towel I found him seated
naked at the end of my bed.

"I want you to suck me mom?"  He made it sound like a question but it
really wasn't.  Did this middle-aged horny woman care?  Of course not.
Her man still desired her after hours of fornicating, wanted her to
suck his soiled huge cock.

With a smile on my lips and my tender vagina rekindling with a fire
that only Glen could start, I knelt between his thighs.  Having had
his penis in my mouth many a time, up to this moment, I knew what my
son liked.  I wrapped both my hands about the fat base of his penis,
since one hand could not reach all the way around his circumference,
and began by licking the head of his penis until it was slick with
saliva - and only then did I opened my mouth wide and lowered my face.
With my hands moving in unison, my face bobbed up and down my son's
hard cock I could taste our earlier juices and savoured it as nectar
of our mutual love.

There is nothing extraordinary about this tale, except perhaps my
son's bold request for a blow job, until almost the end.  Hearing the
sounds and feeling his cock tightening - knowing what was about to
happen... wanting it to happen - when Glen grasped my head and firmly
withdrew me from his cock.  It began to shoot its sperm upon my
astonished but delighted face as he gasped, "Stroke it mom... stroke
it...!"  I did, using both my hands, and Glen was soon gasping and
looking at me wildly - my face now covered in his thick cream.

It was the most wild and bold thing I have ever done in my life and I
loved it.  I could see that he loved it - which, if you had understood
anything up to now, only intensified my pleasure.

Gently he stroked my wet hair, thanking me, telling me how much he
loved me - then laughed and told me to go have another shower.

Striding back into the bathroom - a quick glance in the mirror
revealed a woman that I've never seen before.  A woman that was wilder
and sexier than I ever considered myself and I fell in love with that
woman.  I needed her in my life - to feel whole, to feel complete.

Things progressed much faster after that point - my end of the scale
rapidly rising.

When we were alone together - Glen took the initiative in our joining.
I let him and felt the ecstasy of submitting my sexuality to another
human being.  A man, whom, I trusted and loved like no other in my
whole life.  It was enlightening to give up total control of your
pleasure - to know that your desires were at the whim of another.
Every waking moment was filling with horny desires and thoughts about
what we had done, and fantasizing what my son was going to do with me
next!

Even before he started to use words of possession with his mother -
calling me his woman, his only love - we lived it.

At this time my husband and I still had our weekly scheduled marital
fornication - but it lacked colour and volume compared to my young
lover.  My husband grunted between my spread legs, the lights out, in
our bed, and his body sweating on me.  I was bored, I was unsatisfied.

Some women may have brought their lover into their marriage bed with
her husband - if only within the mind of the unsatisfied woman of
course.  Yet that felt perverted to me - wrong to think of my son as
my middle-aged balding husband ejaculated his scheduled sperm into my
barely-wet vagina.

When my son asked, and he did each Monday - the day after my marital
constitutional - I would tell him.  Glen never wanted details, and
only asked if his dad and I 'fucked'.  It was the first common use of
a vulgar word between us and it was used to describe my passionless
marriage bed.  Of course I told him what he wanted to know - would
tell him anything he wanted to know at that point in our relationship.

The thing was, each Monday my son would ignore me - not even finding a
moment, even when alone, to touch me.  Of course it was the knowledge
that his father and I had been intimate that cooled his passion - if
only for a single day.  I had no answer for the dilemma that Monday's
professed to be.

Sherry still hung upon my every word - so that I was sinfully bragging
my sexual exploits with my nameless lover to her weekly.  Finding her
reaction almost amusing - how her eyes glared at me without blinking
and her face turned red and her skin shone with sweat and her nipples
stood at attention.  Was this only a small taste of the power my son
had over me?

I told her how my young lover could not get enough of my tight rear
passage or ejaculating on my face.  I would tell her of the more
memorable exploits from that week, the details becoming more lurid and
verbose at the re-telling.

She admitted that she had bought her first sex toys - a dildo the size
that I described my young man's cock to be and a vibrator half the
size.  Sherry confessed to me her own memorable masturbation sessions,
revealing the parts of my tales that caused her the most passion.  And
smiled with pride that she shyly told me that she could not get the
large dildo into her rectum, no matter how much she tried - but
regularly used the smaller vibrator instead.

Her reactions were turning me on and in a quiet post-climatic moment
with my son, I told him about Sherry, our talks and her vibrators.

Of course I was naive - telling the man I lusted and loved so deeply
about the passions another woman confessed for the nameless lover of
her best friend.  Yet, my young lover and son could not hear enough
about Sherry and it even added to our sexual relationship.  He would
add flavour to our relationship - only so that I could tell it to
Sherry and a week later, return to tell Glen what she had been doing
to herself when she masturbated to the original acts we had done.

In this way we introduced sexual toys of our own in our relationship.
Butt plugs, ben wa balls, dildos and vibrators and even fruit and
vegetables.

Since I was the recipient of these items and my son anxious to play
with me and them, I loved every second.

Glen also started to get more verbal about our love-making about this
time.  Telling me to suck the come out of his balls, that I was his
come-slut and began to call me his mommy-toy.  This shocked me at
first, having a rather conservative... and rather silent... history
between my husband and I.  Glen's words thrilled me though, after the
initial shock and they only echoed my own secret thoughts after all!

When he called me his slave the first time I almost fell to the floor
with my knees giving out and became so impassioned that we fucked on
the kitchen tiles until I came with a loud scream.  I am his slave -
of that I did not even think it until he used it possessively.  I
could not think of myself in that way - but when it was thrust upon me
by the man I loved and trusted more than any other person, I accepted
it as the truth.  I resolved, immediately after orgasming as his
slave, that I would do anything and everything my son-lover wanted me
to do - in essence to be the perfect slave.

You see, the scales were now fully in my son's favour.

The first time I was tied up happened not long after being labelled my
son's slave.  I lay on my back, bound to the four corners of the large
dining room table, my eyes covered.  My delicious son spent all
afternoon playing with my body - bringing me to orgasm after orgasm -
having me beg and plead as he used every means at his disposal to
torture me.  It was a new and thrilling feeling - to be so helpless to
one's desires.  My son had complete control - using his slave as he
wished - and it brought our relationship to a new level.

It was also about this time that I realized the middle-aged
upper-middle-class suburban mother and wife had slowly disintegrated
upon the hard thrusts of her son's over-sized cock.  I no longer cared
if my husband found out about his son and I - nor if anyone else did
as well.  I lived for the next moment when my son would touch me,
order me to pleasure myself or him or just tell me which lingerie he
wanted me to wear.

As thick headed as my husband is, he is not blind or stupid.  He
noticed that there was a pile of new and sexy underwear in his wife's
bedroom drawer.  He noticed that there were purchases on our shared
credit card from sex-toy stores.  And when those finally caught his
eye and he looked up from his morning paper he saw that his wife had
perceptibly changed.  How could he not?  I felt like a new person -
totally different from the ageing image of a wife that he thought he
lived with.

So he just came out and asked me one day, if I was having an affair.
As brazen as I was with my submission to Glen, our son, I was startled
at my husbands question and knew not how to answer.  What my husband
said then startled me even more - that he understood and it would be
fine, as long as I was discrete.  It would have been perfect if we
just ended the conversation at that point - but he then asked if I
loved 'him'?  Without even thinking about the consequences, but could
not contain just how much I loved my son and blurted out in the
affirmative.  My husband turned white as a sheet and then returned to
his morning paper without another word.

Within weeks he would move out and formal separation papers were
signed.

My son graduated around that time and we both were anxious for the
summer together.  This was a month before his father left and so I was
in that bliss-filled bubble where I was invincible and could do
anything for my 'Master', as I was now frequently calling him.

Glen now so brazen when his father was in the house; reaching beneath
my clothing or having me quickly suck his dick when his father was in
the other room.  He called me his slutty little slave and had me
masturbate him into my morning cereal.  Never one to deny the juices
of our love - I relished this brazen and bawdy action - my husband
eating his own breakfast across from me, my son watching me intently.

Nothing was forbidden those first weeks of his summer - and we
fornicated like rabbits every minute of the day that we were alone.
And we were alone most of the time.  If we were not fucking, then we
were sucking.  And not sucking then we were using our hands and
fingers.  And if we were not doing any of that, we were planning for
the next encounter.

Glen came up with some very imaginative things for us to do - and even
now I shake my head in amused pleasure at the ideas that he put us
through.  Like the time he had me bounce up and down, fucking myself,
on his big toe as he lay back on the pillows and watched me.  It took
me a while - but I did orgasm for that toe-bang, as Glen called it.
There were numerous times that we brought food into our love-play - I,
often, as the platter.

My lover and I experimented and enjoyed.  While I continued to feel
like the luckiest woman alive - and blessed my fortune each time my
son looked at me with the hungry power-filled eyes that I've grown
accustomed too.

Around the time that my husband moved out is when I consciously
remember the feeling that my heart was being squeezed in a powerful
grasp.  That I was somehow loosing both myself and my soul to the lust
that I had no method to control.  Glen owned me body and my soul -
heart and mind - I was his in all ways.

That my husband left did not hit me as hard as it should have - nearly
twenty years of marriage and your husband leaves you because of your
affair with some faceless man.  Worse, it was not an affair - he could
condone that - but my love-affair.  My dear husband would allow me to
share my body with another but not my heart.  Perhaps there is a
lesson there?

It was in the middle of summer when some of the spark went out of the
passion between Glen and I.  I translated the distance that I felt
between us as a byproduct of his father moving out - perhaps guilt or
anger.  Its not something that I could point at and say something has
changed - but Glen just felt distant to me.  As if there was a part of
him that I no longer held within our pleasure-filled bubble-world.

Not to say that we stopped fucking like rabbits, since we had the
house to ourselves he need only nod his head, grunt, or wiggle his
finger and I would jump at the chance to please him.  I now walked
around my home in lingerie that I knew Glen loved.  I wore the leather
slave-collar all the time at home - and sometimes my son would attach
a leash.  We slept in the same bed most nights; often waking with his
cock within me, or I waking him with my hungry mouth on his penis.

My lover did find the time to leave the house more often in that last
month of the summer.  Disappearing for hours while I sat at home and
waiting anxiously for his return, hungry for what he would do to me
next.

Of course, I did not place the past several weeks that Sherry had
cancelled our weekly get together in conjunction to my son's coldness
or his unknown excursions.

I should have seen it coming, known the desires of young men and of
middle-aged women.  It had driven Glen and I together after all.

Glen was going out more frequently and rather than be suspicious and
jealous, I just used this time to do the normalcy of life; like
shopping for groceries or cleaning the house.  It was at the grocery
store that I saw Sherry, for the first time since early summer,
holding a small empty basket and inspecting a cucumber closely.  "Hi
Sherry!"  The reaction that I got was not expected, she dropped the
cucumber back onto its pile and her face lost all colour.  Still
blind, I picked up the perfectly shaped vegetable where she had
dropped it, making an off-colour joke about its intended use.  I
noticed beads of sweat upon the forehead of my best friend and her
mouth moved but no words came out.  I then looked her up and down and
realized she looked fabulous, dressed in a skirt shorter than I have
ever seen her in and a black sheer blouse that revealed the black lace
lingerie beneath.  I gasped in pleasure, trying to share in my best
friends fortune, "You found yourself a lover?"  She too was in a
marriage, even colder than my husband and I had shared.

Sherry nodded rapidly, yanked the cucumber from my gasp and fled from
my presence.  I was left stunned at the alien actions of my best
friend - before finding another perfect cucumber and continued with my
shopping.

Late that same afternoon Glen returned from parts unknown - he went to
the fridge to get himself a drink, something that he rarely did
now... as I waited upon him hand and foot - but came out with the
cucumber that I had purchased earlier in the day.  The side-ways smile
that he wore weakened my knees and I had to lick my drying lips -
knowing that more adventures were soon coming upon us.  Within minutes
I lay on my back upon the dinning room table, naked except for my
stockings, with my head hanging off the edge.  The cold cucumber was
now in my own grasp, and I was heating it up by plunging it in and out
of my hot wet furnace.  My son was standing, still clothed, but with
his hard huge dick moving in and out of my mouth.

It was early in that sexy encounter that my mind was still able to
form concrete thoughts - as it usually turned to mush not long into
any joining.  Perhaps the coldness of the vegetable slowed the boiling
lava from covering all my awareness - just enough so I remembered
Sherry at the grocery store.

Everything flashed through my mind and I came to the conclusion that
my son and best friend were having an affair.  I could not accept it
and rehashed my facts again and again but they all came out to the
same thing - that my lover was now cheating on me.  Since Glen
expected me to perform, to act brazen and as unhindered as ever - it
was the first time that I faked my orgasm.  Even as I wiggled with
pretend climax - Glen spurting his seed upon my breasts and jaw - I
could not help but maliciously wonder how Sherry had used her
cucumber.

After that was when the disintegration of my marriage really hurt -
how selfish I had been to the man I still love.  My love for him did
not burn with lust as it still did with Glen, but I do care and love
the man whom slipped that wedding ring on my finger many years before.
Had my husband known for weeks before our talk that I was sleeping
around?  Was what I was feeling after discovering Sherry and Glen the
same that my husband had endured?

How much strength it took for my husband to come out and tell me that
I could continue to see the unknown man of my affair.  I do not think
I could ever do such a thing - now that the reality of it was thrust
upon me.  I was weaker than that - I wanted Glen for myself, wanted to
enjoy this perfection that we shared for ever.

I was very naive of course.

Within me something changed when I was with Glen as well - watching
him for signs of his affair with Sherry.  I could not stop picturing
them together whenever Glen was inside me.  It was enough of a cold
shower so that I regularly started to fake my orgasms with my lover.
As my son shoved his dick into my ass, the sounds he was making
announcing his approaching climax, I wondered if Sherry could now take
a dick the size of my son's in her once virgin ass.  I knew she could
- Glen would see to that... just like he had for me.

I still considered myself my son's submissive slut - but the burning
of lust was replaced with jealousy.  Besides, I had no choice did I?
I could not confront him or tell him to get out of my house - it would
mess up our relationship irrevocably.  I needed that relationship,
now, to get through my grief about my husband - still needed the love
that a child can give his parent.

So I continued to spread my legs, dress provocatively and wear that
damned collar like the slave that I had found such wild abandon in,
only weeks before.  I kept a private tally - realizing with a cold
fear that Glen was orgasming less and less when we were together.
That our time was often spent with me masturbating for his visual
sight, or maybe riding his fingers.  He even had me suck or fuck him
and he would not finish - continuing until I gasped in my own orgasm,
more often faked than not now - and I knew that my lovers sperm had
another anxious and ready repository.

It was my son that took the initiative and told me about Sherry -
seemingly out of the blue.  He was patient as I sobbed and cried out
the pain in my heart as he revealed that Sherry was a dynamic and sexy
lover, whom wanted to be his slave as well.  Without a care about my
feelings he told me in detail of the pleasures of my best friends
shorter, voluptuous body - and how it was made for pleasure.  He told
me he loved me - but he also told me that he loved Sherry.  I asked,
between sobs, if this was it?  If he was going to leave me.  Glen was
shocked and adamantly denied this - telling me that he loved two women
and he wanted to 'own', his words, those two sexy sluts forever.

His use of the word 'forever' hurt - as I had thought our incestuous
affair was forever, locked with love, trust and lust.  Just the two of
us living in our lust-filled world until the end of time.

I did not deny him as he carried me to my bed and then proceeded to
slowly and lovingly fuck me.  I did not fake it this time - feeling
his passion still for me in each tender movement that I forgot all my
jealousy and rage.  At least while he was within me.

It was the next day that things descended further - when Glen told me
that he had asked Sherry to leave her husband and three kids and move
in with us.  It was the first fight since before that Saturday morning
when I began this sexual relationship between us.  It was also the
first time that my son forced me over his knee and spanked me until I
sobbed in pain, grief and self pity.  He fucked me viciously then,
yelling at me throughout that I was his and that I would do everything
to make his slave Sherry welcome!  After he was sated, and climbed off
- I realized that I may have orgasmed but the bruises would take days
to heal.

What have I gotten myself into.

This all started because of the weakness of my body - the middle-age
woman's burning lust that blinded me to the sin of laying with her own
son.  Of course Glen enjoyed this new relationship between us - having
a woman that wanted to do every sexually conceivable thing together,
who could not say 'no' and who practically worshipped the ground he
walked on.  My son was eighteen years old when we first slept together
and he was also a virgin - he had no choices in the path I set us on.
He became the product of my sinful lust.

I was weak as I willing gave up ownership to my passion - wanted my
son to control my lust as if a golden chain was tied around my heart.
That submission opened the gates to an amazing passion-filled place
that I never thought existed - and I was totally enamoured with the
power of my own lusts.

It was only a week ago - when my son confronted me with Sherry moving
in.  The shouting slowly disintegrated after our vicious encounter and
I realized that my son was telling me that Sherry was not only going
to move in but that I was expected, as my son's slave, to do anything
he wanted.  And he had explained in great detail some of the things
Sherry and I would be doing together - the three of use in a newly
created twisted little world of lust.  Glen had questioned me that
Sherry was so excited for this plan but why could I not feel the same?

The rest of last week went slowly - the house filled with stress and a
a whirlpool of emotions.  My son and I slept separately and he barely
looked upon me.  Only once in the last week did he tell me to suck him
off - and I silently did as bid.

There was nothing left within me but to succumb to to my son.  My
heart had been opened and willingly given to the only man I dared give
it too - as naive as that had been.

I am no lesbian, nor would I ever admit to wanting to share my man
with another - yet that is what Glen is demanding.  Could the last
visage of the old me be extinguished completely?

Tomorrow, no later today as it is nearly four in the morning, Glen
would help Sherry move her stuff into our house.  I am sitting up late
at night writing this diatribe, purging my soul and questioning all
that has happened since my son became my lover.  Perhaps the answer
would pop out of this writing, perhaps I will never be able to get
past my jealous anger and accept what Glen has positioned me in.

Have you guessed the question yet?  If I wanted to be truly submissive
and return to that nirvana-world of lust and passion then I must
accept Sherry as my sister-in-sin.  Could I accept myself as a woman
without any choice left to her?

Not only accept it really - but thrive in that world that I once had,
if ever so briefly.  Only, this time, I would enter the world eyes
wide open.

The sun will soon be coming up and my life will again change - but as
I must end this written purging of my soul I know not the outcome.

You, unfortunately, never will.

--

