Uninvited Guests

Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

Hello and welcome to my twenty-fifth Literotica story. In truth, it should be my twenty-fourth though. Let me explain.

Only one of my efforts has completely failed to connect with readers. That’s the first chapter of Man on a Mission. I conceived it as a silly and diverting little story, a piece of fluff. I forgot of course that this is first and foremost an erotica website.

That little story was heavy on farce but light on sex. And it was judged more on the latter than the former. In hindsight, it was unfair to release it by itself. I should have delayed and published both chapters as one. Now the story is too lopsided, no sex in part one, nothing but sex in part two.

I learned a lesson with that one, but that was not the only thing I needed to learn. As my writing has evolved, my stories have tended to become longer and more involved. There’s plenty of sex in them, but there’s a lot more other stuff as well.

When Middleson gave me his initial feedback on The Old Country, one comment struck a chord with me. He said that it didn’t feel like the “real” Nobston. He felt that I was holding back on the sexual content, denying readers what they wanted. I disagreed, given the context of that story and the way that it is structured.

So, to Middleson and those who agree with him, here is a work from the “real” Nobston. It’s a no holds barred, sex romp. I hope there is enough narrative to keep it interesting too. By the way, my erstwhile muse is responsible for several major plot elements in this tale. So, thank you Middleson for your continuing efforts, they are much appreciated.

Reader lovedefacto spotted a rather embarrassing vocabulary fail on my part, so I wanted to pass on my thanks. I also got some invaluable feedback from Fuzzy_Kbear. He set me straight on a couple of glaring issues. I’ve fixed them as best I can, so thanks, man. But the ultimate credit must go to Demosthenes384bc who managed to show me the error of my ways. You won’t appreciate the scope of his contribution but believe me, it was crucial.

My loyal editor No1Ukno did his usual sterling work on the nuts and bolts. His role is probably the most important part of making my stuff readable. Thank you, old friend.

So, may I present Margaret and Russell, who are both over eighteen of course. Beware though before venturing forth, there is a non-consensual element to this story.

I’ve tried to handle it as deftly and delicately as I can, but I understand that it’s not for everyone. If the idea offends you, feel free to move on. All I ask is that you come back if and when there are a few comments. If the story gets the reception that I hope for, perhaps they will change your mind. If they don’t then I will have failed in my job as a writer and don’t deserve your patronage anyway.

Otherwise, strap in. You’re in for a wild ride…

++++

“Margaret, where the fuck’s my goddamn wallet?” Mark Armstrong screamed up the stairs.

Wherever the fuck you left it, you ignorant pig.

Margaret Armstrong puffed out a world-weary sigh. Shaking her head, she wondered once again how on Earth things had got to this point. Her husband was leaving for a four-day, boys’ weekend and she couldn’t wait for him to go.

Once upon a time, she would have felt sad at such a thought, but not anymore. Over the two-plus decades of their marriage, her husband had changed. What had started out as petulance and irritability on his part had grown out of control. He had become controlling and vindictive, especially as their children had grown.

He became jealous, despite never having a reason to be. Although to be fair he was a good provider, but he was a philanderer and a mean drunk with it.

For a long time, she had forgiven his many faults because their life together was comfortable. Well, comfortable in financial terms if not emotional ones. But as she grew older and a little wiser, Margaret realized that that wasn’t enough. She found that there were far more important things in life than material wealth. Love and respect for starters, never mind companionship and fun. But none of those things existed between them now, only anger and resentment remained.

Ha, welcome to the American Dream, Marg!

“Come on, I’m going to be late,” he continued, pawing frantically through the pockets of his hunting jacket.

It’s an annual trip, asshole. It’s on the same weekend every year, to the same fucking place. How the hell can you never be fucking ready?

“I don’t know, Mark,” she called from their bedroom. “Did you leave it in your work pants?”

“No, for fuck’s sake woman, I left it out last night on purpose. There’s over a thousand dollars in it. No doubt you tidied it away as usual,” Mark wailed. His voice quavered in frustration as he switched his search to his rucksack.

Margaret shook her head.

No, I learned that lesson long ago, dickwad.

“I never saw it then, is it out in your truck? Did you go for gas last night like you said?” the long-suffering wife enquired.

“NOOOO, you stupi…” her husband screamed at the top of his voice, before cutting off mid-sentence. “Never mind,” he muttered.

“What was that, hon?” Margaret enquired, knowing full well that doing so would wind him up even further.

“I said never mind,” Mark grumbled, clambering to his feet. “I sent Russ for gas earlier, he must have taken it.”

You fucking dumbass, that’s so typical of you. It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it? Until you realize it’s not, but there’s never a hint of remorse or an apology is there? No, not from the great Mark Armstrong, no. Christ how I loathe you.

“That’s great, darling,” she trilled, her responses coming on automatic pilot now. “I’m sure he’ll be back in no time.”

Margaret finished tying the laces on her running shoes and stood up with a groan. She had been trying to get more exercise in recent weeks, joining her friends Cindy and Pam on their daily walks. Forced confinement had been part of the strict COVID-19 protocols in their state. She had been working from home throughout lockdown, pretty much alone. Despite her best efforts, she had found the lure of the refrigerator irresistible.

She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror.

Yep, you still look like shit, Marg.

Shame washed over her as she looked at her huge butt and fat, wobbling tits. Her Lycra leggings were doing their best to contain her pasty thighs. But there was no hiding the truth — she was a fat cow. But even two weeks of daily walks had improved the situation a little. There was a shape to her ass now at least. Well, sort of anyway. Instead of a beachball in her pants, it looked to her like she now had two water balloons. “Junk in the trunk,” Pam called it. Margaret had laughed when her uptight friend using such lewd language in public.

Come on Marg, you’ve made some progress, girl. Stop being so hard on yourself. It’s taken twenty years of neglect for you to fall this far, so the journey back will take time. Take the win when you can.

She heard the front door slam as their son returned from the gas station. There was muffled conversation followed by the sound of the door slamming again. From behind the net curtains in her bedroom, Margaret watched her men load Mark’s gun cases into the bed of his old truck. Clapping their son on the shoulder, her husband jumped into the F-150 and roared off.

Not a word of goodbye, eh Mark? Well, at least it means I get to avoid your usual fat jokes.

She left their room and trotted down the stairs. Her sports bra was straining at its design limits to contain her bouncing boobs.

“Whoa, Mom,” her son cried as they met in the hall. “You’ll give yourself a black eye with those things,” he said laughing and wrapping her up in a tight embrace. Margaret pecked him on the cheek before pushing him away.

“Shut up you perv,” she exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be looking at your old mom like that.” She gave him a coy smile to make sure he knew she wasn’t mad.

“Looking? I wasn’t looking at… them. They were blotting out the sun, Mom,” Russell quipped. Margaret loved the new, outgoing, and flirty version of her son. To see the self-confidence, he had gained from his new job warmed her heart.

And my butt. Ow!

He had swatted his mother on the backside as she passed him on her way out. “Want some company?” he asked as she tried to hold in a giggle.

“Thanks, hon but I’m meeting Pam and Cindy in the park,” she replied, secretly delighted at his offer. “Anyway, you couldn’t walk slow enough to keep down with me, baby,” she said, looking away.

Her son had recently started a part-time job as a fitness trainer at the small gym in town. She and Mark had bought him a membership for his eighteenth birthday. He had been reluctant to attend at first but now, eight months later, he was working there.

Margaret knew that the older gals loved him because he made their workouts fun. He motivated them with his trademark kindness and humor. He cheered them on and was very free with his congratulatory hugs. In the early days, he had gotten in trouble for them. But a letter from the mayor’s wife had soon sorted that out. She was one of his most loyal charges now.

He was trying to do the same for Marg, and his enthusiasm had been critical in getting her up off the couch. Now came the hard part she knew, keeping her on the straight and narrow and out of the fridge.

Russell looked straight at her, an odd look on his face. Then he smiled warmly and said, “Okay, I’ll whip up a protein shake for when you get back. Are you properly hydrated?”

“Fit to burst, baby,” Margaret said, squeezing her ample thighs together at the thought. “Did your father find his wallet?”

“Find it? He gave it to me to go gas up his truck,” Russ said, admiring his mother’s commitment as she stretched out her quads. “Why is he always in such a panic over these trips, Mom? He goes every year, but he’s like a kid at Christmas every time.”

“Ha, I don’t know, honey,” Margaret said, “I guess he’s just excited.” Her heart lurched at an unwanted thought.

Yeah, excited to get his little dickie wet, I’ll bet.

Russ saw his mother’s forehead crease as she frowned, the corners of her mouth sagging for an instant. But a moment later she was smiling once again as she bounced out the door with a wave. A smile crossed her lips as her subconscious spat out a much more pleasant notion.

Let those Idaho whores suck it for you, Mark. At least that means I won’t have to!

++++

Russ had always been such a quiet boy, Margaret thought as she started her fitness tracker. He was studious and kind, the polar opposite of his bitch of a big sister. June had left home two years before and had never come back. Marg and she had always had a somewhat strained relationship. The girl had always been closer to her father anyway. She had loved to go camping with him, even if just in the woods behind the house.

That had been the start of their estrangement Margaret thought. Mark had shut Russell out at that point too. He had focused whatever love and attention he still had on his daughter. At the same time, the girl had pulled away from her mother. They had communicated in Neanderthal grunts and single-digit gestures from then on.

June was living somewhere in Europe now, traveling with a band of all things. She blamed COVID for being unable to come home to them. But Margaret knew that was nothing but a convenient cover story. The girl hated her and had done ever since puberty. Sadly she had never articulated why, so Margaret always felt it was her fault.

Sometimes she wondered about the reasons for their schism. It could of course be simple mother/daughter angst, but they never spoke, and therefore she couldn’t ask. It was her greatest regret in life, other than marrying the wrong man. But if she hadn’t married Mark, she never would have had Russell and that would have been a colossal tragedy.

Russell had always been a bit of a “momma’s boy,” fascinated by cooking and baking. He had never shown the slightest interest in his father’s hobbies of hunting and fishing. Russ and Margaret had bonded during the pandemic as they had been locked down together. As a former teacher, she had been able to help with his studies. He in turn had assisted her with the technology required to sell real estate from home.

He had a wicked sense of humor and had become rather daring with his jokes and innuendoes. Margaret loved it because most of her churchgoing friends and colleagues were such prudes. It was so refreshing to “flirt” with someone who was on her wavelength and be a little risqué. Mark had been like that in their youth, his free spirit and sharp wit had drawn her to him. But he had hit middle age at twenty-five and the fun had been leaching from their lives ever since.

09:32 AM, 138 BPM, 0.8 miles, 18:31 mins/mile, 1121 KCal

Margaret checked her progress as she turned into Demeter Park. Pam and Cindy waved from their spot by the pond and hurried over to meet her. All three were a similar shape from the neck down but couldn’t have been more different otherwise. Pam was younger, thirty-eight with jet black skin. She spent a fortune keeping her hair straight and wore a little too much makeup Margaret thought. But she had a ready smile and a warm laugh, and they had been best friends since college.

Cindy was a strawberry blonde, her curly ringlets tumbling to the middle of her back. The techs at Clairol were responsible for the color of that mane. But Margaret still thought it looked fantastic.

Marg felt that her own hair was a disaster at the moment. She had always been so proud of her silky, chestnut brown tresses. But before the last lockdown had been lifted it had grown very long and unruly. As soon as she had had the chance, she had got it styled short in a cute pixie cut with streaks and highlights. But then they had been locked down again and it had grown out haphazardly. Her roots were showing now, and the uneven cut made her bangs fall over her right eye. To add insult to injury it had started to curl as well. Today it was tied up in a bun but some of the shorter strands had come loose already.

The previous evening, she had asked Russell if he would watch some YouTube videos to find out how to cut and style it. He had laughed until he realized that she was serious. He had told her that it looked very pretty — “Euro-chic” was the phrase he had used. Margaret had been too afraid to ask what that meant.

“Did Mark get away without the usual drama this morning?” Pam asked.

“No, of course not,” Margaret laughed. “He upended the house looking for his wallet. Turned out he had given it to Russ when he sent him to gas up the truck,” Margaret said, joining her friends in laughter. “Sometimes I’m surprised that he can even put his pants on in the morning.”

“How is he getting out of state, Margaret?” Cindy asked. “I thought that wasn’t allowed under lockdown.”

“He’ll be relying on his white privilege I expect, Cin,” Margaret replied, only half-joking. “At least I insisted he got double vaxxed, so what’s the worst they can do to him? A fine and a slap on the wrists? Anyway, a few nights in county jail would do him no harm at all.”

The three friends laughed again and marched off. The “Wobbling Warriors” Margaret called them, loud and proud.

++++

10:31 AM, 178 BPM, 5.1 mi, 14:15 mins/mile, 1728 KCal

Russell was studying in his room when he heard the front door open and then slam shut. But when his mom didn’t call out to say she was back he got worried.

That’s odd, I hope she’s OK.

She tended to overdo it on her walks, and often forgot to manage her breathing. Too busy gossiping with his friends’ moms he thought. But if her heart rate had spiked, it could affect her blood pressure or even trigger a panic attack.

He ran down the stairs to find his mother slumped on the couch in the den. She was soaked with sweat and panting for breath, sucking air in huge, ragged gasps. He knelt by her side and took her hand, looking at her blotchy, purple face.

“Breathe, Mom,” he intoned. “In through the nose, hold… and out through the mouth. Really force it out, come on.” He demonstrated what he wanted her to do. “Come on, Mom. Like this,” he continued. Russell checked her fitness tracker, her heart rate was 175.

After a few more gasps she began to copy him. Within a minute her breathing had slowed, and her pulse was dropping below 150… 140…

“That’s it,” he said as Margaret’s eyes fluttered open. “You had me worried there for a minute. Come on, let’s go warm down.”

“No, Russell,” she wailed, “I’m exhausted. Let me lie here, I can barely move. I hate that last climb up the dirt road to the house. I wish your father would get it paved like he promised. My feet were sliding around as if I was at the beach. Why do we have to live out here so far from civilization? Why can’t we live in town like normal fucking people?”

Russell was no longer fazed by his mother’s occasional use of bad language. It had been absolutely taboo in their home when he was growing up but now, he took it as a sign of her trust. Like so many people nowadays his father was rabid about church and his religion. In his head he was pious and god-fearing, whilst in reality, he was anything but.

Racist, misogynistic, and homophobic were words that Russell used to describe his father. Mark Armstrong wore his intolerance like a badge of honor. If he ever heard his wife cuss like that, Mark might well have slapped her, or worse. So, Russell ignored her little indiscretions and kept her secrets. He was on Team Mom. He always had been and always would be.

“You know you love the peace and quiet out here, Mom. You couldn’t do naked yoga on the deck if we had neighbors, could you? Now, as I understand it, you’re going out dancing tonight, yeah? You’ll look like an even worse dancer than me if we don’t at least stretch off your muscles. Come on,” her son demanded. “I’ve made a smoothie for you,” he said. “Passion fruit and mango — your favorite.” He stood, still holding her hand, and pulled her to her feet. She swayed woozily as he led her towards the back door.

Outside, she noted that he had laid out her yoga mat on the deck. Gently he lowered her onto her back, before standing over her, arms crossed. “Come on, Mom,” he said, insisting she stretch out her stiff legs, ignoring her protestations.

She lay still, her impressive chest heaving. “I’m going to have to do this for you, aren’t I?” Russell asked. Without waiting for a response, he lifted her foot and began pushing her toes upwards. This stretched out her hamstrings and glutes. It was a feeling midway between pleasure and pain for Margaret.

She expelled a loud, almost sexual moan, before clapping a hand over her mouth. Their eyes met and Russ wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Margaret laughed and relaxed, allowing him to soothe her aches away. As he spread her legs and pushed on her thighs and butt, he was never inappropriate. He never stared for a moment too long, and his hands never lingered on her flesh for an instant more than necessary.

The same could not be said of her though. She allowed her gaze to travel up from his strong, magical hands towards his broad shoulders. He was wearing a tiny ‘wife-beater’ shirt which showed off his bulging forearms and biceps. His muscles rippled as he worked, the smooth flesh glistening as a sheen of sweat rose on his skin.

He was completely hairless, from what she could see. She remembered Mark teasing him mercilessly when he hit puberty. Russell had begun growing hair on his groin and under his arms. Those his father had called his ‘birds nests’ and Mark forced him to display them to all and sundry. Like most confused, pubescent teens Russell’s emerging psyche was a fragile thing. He had been utterly unprepared to cope with this attention, especially from a parent.

He had become quiet and withdrawn, preferring his own company even to that of his family. It had been months later when Marg had discovered him crying in her bathroom. He was trying to use her depilatory cream to remove the hair from under his arms. He had come out in a raging, red rash from the powerful chemicals. Margaret blamed herself for failing to understand and deal with the situation earlier. From then on she had always purchased the sensitive version, in bulk.

She had been consumed with fear and worry for her daughter whose behavior was the exact opposite. June stayed out late drinking and was no doubt screwing around. Every conversation that mother and daughter had become an epic shouting match.

Margaret had trusted her husband to look after Russell, to nurture him and prepare him for his life as an adult. But Mark being Mark had done nothing but belittle his son in front of his group of Neanderthal friends. They had laughed at his attempts to shoot guns or a bow and arrow. They had sabotaged the traps and snares that they forced him to set. And they had neither listened to him nor spoken with him, treating the boy as anything other than a man.

Russell had borne it all stoically because, in reality, he had no choice. His mother and sister had their own weird, twisted soap opera going on. His close friends were a year or two behind him on the puberty curve and did not understand. All he had was himself, his kind heart, and his sharp mind.

So, he became self-reliant. He taught himself to cook and clean and mend his clothes. He found ways to avoid being home. Whether by working odd jobs in town or training in the hills behind their sprawling property. He often stayed away from sunrise to bedtime, learning and growing. Becoming the man that Margaret was gazing at right now.

As his shirt sagged away from his chest she drank in his smooth, glistening pecs. She watched the sweat run down from his forehead to drip onto her leggings. She imagined that sweat dripping onto her face as he pounded her gushing twat into oblivion. Her nipples ached as they filled with blood, eager to be chewed and sucked. Her vagina was awash with slippery fluid.

Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck, Marg? Where did that come from? He’s gay and even if he wasn’t, you’re his mom. I know you’re lonely and horny but come on woman! Why don’t you do what Pam and Cindy do if it’s that bad?

As he continued to work on her, Margaret considered her son’s sexuality. For about the millionth time she asked herself why he hadn’t come out yet, not even to her. He was so clearly gay, she thought, he must know by now.

She didn’t care one jot if he was, of course. She just wanted him to be happy. She decided that she would talk to Pam and Cindy about it that night at the club. Her friends’ boys, Devon, and Steve were Russell’s best friends. High school seniors, the three of them were thick as thieves and always had been. She wondered if her friends had picked up any vibes about her son, or perhaps their own…

Russell had moved on to a massage now. He rolled her onto her front, glad that her boobs were now lost to his view. On the plus side, the PPP now hove into view. In Russell’s mind, his mom’s Perfect Plump Posterior was her best feature. Every time he manipulated her legs it jiggled and bounced. He wished she could see it in motion, to know how her workouts were paying off.

He ran his hands along the backs of her legs, massaging the knots from her calves and hamstrings. He wished that she would wear shorts rather than her tight, stretchy leggings. Then he would be massaging her bare skin, which would be so much more effective for her. But she had this crazy idea that she was too fat and ugly to do that. She thought her legs were pasty and peppered with cellulite. But Russell knew that they would look fantastic, just like the rest of her. Never mind looking good for her age, his mom looked good, period. He should know he thought, given that he trained most of the women in town, both young and old.

He had been reading up about people with body image problems. It was a really serious issue these days, especially amongst women his mom’s age. For several months now he had tried to open a dialog with her about it, with limited success. He would keep trying but didn’t want to spook her. Meanwhile, he resolved to continue showering her with compliments at every opportunity. If only his asshole father would be so considerate, he thought.

Rolling her onto her back once more, Russell twisted his mother’s leg and stretched it out to the side. With long, deep strokes he dug his fingers into her inner thighs. As he did at the gym, he was trying to balance propriety with a worthwhile massage. So far, his mom seemed pretty chill, so he carried on.

He almost giggled at the comically rude position she was in. Her legs were spread wide, almost into the birthing position. Her leggings were stretched taut across her groin. They left very little to his febrile, teenage imagination. Russell paused his ministrations, pondering whether she was wearing panties or not.

Jesus, Russell, where did that come from? Move on dude, it’s Mom!

But he had lost his train of thought completely. His consciousness de-railed and tumbled down a metaphorical embankment. His eyes were locked in place at the juncture of her thighs, and he could barely believe what he was seeing.

Because right there was a spreading, oily wet patch. It couldn’t be sweat he thought. It had just appeared, and her body was already drenched in that. Had she peed herself? He managed to tear his gaze away and check out her face. It was calm and serene still, her eyes closed in total relaxation.

No, Russell, you know what that is. That’s her pussy juice, man! Did I cause that? Is she having a naughty daydream? What do I do? You fuckin’ bail, dude, that’s what. Right the fuck now. GET THE HELL OUTTA DODGE, RUSS!

He set her leg back down and risked a final pat on her hip. “All done, Mom,” he called. “I think you spilled some of your smoothie on your leggings. Go finish it, then take a nice long shower, or maybe even a hot bath. I’ve gotta go see the guys, I’ll be back for supper though. Love ya.”

And with that he was gone, his long, loping strides taking him around the side of the house in seconds. Mopping his brow, the mortified teen took off at flank speed.

On the deck, Margaret sat up, feeling confused.

Spilled something? What did he mean?

As she rose to her feet she could feel a cold, sticky sensation between her legs. Reaching down she felt the telltale wet patch.

Fuck, he saw it. He knows I was turned on.

Her reaction to that thought was extreme, as powerful as it was unexpected. She brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean. Then she shivered as her hormones went into overdrive.

Shaking her head, Margaret Armstrong laughed at the incongruity of the situation. Her beautiful, queer, adonis of a son had turned her on so much that she had leaked through her panties. He had seen it and like the polite young man he was, he had excused himself to avoid embarrassing her. But she hadn’t been embarrassed, not one bit. She had loved it and was now almost orgasming spontaneously as a result.

You need to get fucking laid, Margaret. And now you have agreed to go out to the country club tonight as well. Look out boys! Ha, as if, you silly cow. Mark might be a sleazy cheater but you’re not. You’ll just have to exhaust your sexual energy on the dance floor as usual…

++++

Margaret fussed around Russell that evening before she went out.

“Remember, the pie goes in at three-fifty for thirty minutes. The veggies need steamed for about ten, don’t overdo them or they’ll be all soggy,” she insisted.

“Mom, I made the damn pie and prepared the carrots and broccoli too. You don’t have to worry,” Russell sighed in mock exasperation. “Now get up those stairs and get your dancing gear on. Cindy’s cousin will be here to pick you up in half an hour.”

“Oh, I don’t know baby,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll not bother going. Pam and Cindy will try to get me drunk and all my dresses are far too tight.” She was wringing her hands as she spoke, so Russell got up from the couch and approached her. Taking her hands in his he kissed them lightly before saying, “Your new blue dress will look slinky and sexy, Mom. Tie up your hair like you did this morning and put on your tallest heels. Who cares if you have a drink or two? In fact, I have half a mind to wait up and make sure you come home tipsy. Now git!”

He moved to pat her backside as he had that morning. But she moved to the side as he swung and instead received a stinging smack right on her ample bottom.

“Russell Maxton Armstrong,” she shrieked, clapping a hand to her stinging flesh. A roseate blush spread from her chest up across her face.

Her use of his hated middle name was usually a bad sign, but Russell doubled down on his mistake. “Sorry Mom, but if you don’t come down looking like a million dollars there will be far worse than that to come.”

Margaret said nothing, staring at her son for a long moment before scurrying up the stairs. Her ass was burning from the stinging blow, but inside her tummy was doing cartwheels.

What the fuck, Marg? What the fucking fuck?

Russell chuckled to himself and returned to watching TV. His mother had such a low opinion of herself that he had become her head cheerleader. She seemed to think she was a whale, but the truth was she was a sexy, voluptuous woman. Someone who deserved a much better life than his deadbeat father could offer. He felt it was important for her to let her hair down with her friends that night. The confidence boost would be just what she needed.

Half an hour later he heard the clack of her heels on the stairs. Turning he peered over the back of the couch as a nervous Margaret tottered down the stairs. The knee-length, cobalt blue dress clung to her robust form. The shiny fabric showed off her spectacular breasts and luscious rump. Her legs were encased in sheer, black stockings, their sexy seams running up under her dress. Her patent black heels must have been four inches high at least. Russell was so pleased for her, she looked fantastic.

He wolf-whistled as his father had once taught him, making a show of mopping his brow. He got up to meet her and, taking her hand, he led her in a dainty pirouette.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, Mom,” he said. “Do you want me to come as your chaperone? You’ll need me to fight off those guys all night for sure.”

“Oh, shut up, you,” Margaret said as her tummy began to do backflips this time. “You have to say that, it’s part of the maternal contract. And anyway, the men at the country club are just a bunch of old farts.”

“They’ll be tripping over their Zimmer frames to get to you then, babe,” Russell said with a wink. As his mother blushed and waved a dismissive hand at him a car horn sounded outside.

Russell ran to the closet and returned with her pale cream pashmina. Wrapping it around her he said, “Ta-da, best keep your assets covered up until you get there. You don’t want Eugene to have an aneurysm looking in the mirror.”

Margaret laughed and kissed him on the cheek. Cindy’s cousin Eugene who was giving them a ride was their pastor. She looked him up and down before replying, “I wish I had half the confidence in me that you do, baby. Don’t wait up, I’ll be home around eleven.”

“Pshaw,” Russell grunted, “you’re not Cinderella, Mom. Live a little, make it into tomorrow at least.”

“We’ll see, Romeo,” she giggled, before floating out the front door on a cloud of perfume and flirty confidence.

Russell waved to Pam and Cindy who were already in the car and closed the front door behind her. He fervently hoped that she would have a wonderful evening, she deserved it.

++++

11:44 PM, 58 BPM, 4067 KCal

Margaret was elated as Eugene’s old Chevy bounced along the dirt road towards her house. She was indeed tipsy, although nothing like as bad as Pam and Cindy were. They had both tried to cry off tomorrow’s morning walk, but Margaret would have none of it. They were all tired from a night of dancing, but it was a good tired. It was a mellow weariness that they had earned through hard work.

As she air-kissed her friends goodnight and eased out of the car, Margaret felt truly happy. Not perhaps for the very first time in her life, but certainly for the first time in recent memory.

Waving at the retreating vehicle, she turned to climb the steps to the front door. As she did so, she froze. Something cool and hard had been pressed into the small of her back. A strange, low voice spoke into her left ear.

“Welcome home Mrs. Armstrong, I hope you had fun with your friends tonight. Relax, we’re not here to hurt you, we just need something from the house. So, let’s get inside, nice, and easy. With any luck, Russell will be tucked up in bed and we won’t have to disturb him. And in case you were wondering, we are desperate and will stop at nothing to get what we want. Give us any trouble and we’ll let you watch as we dismember your son. Then we’ll have some fun with you too.”

Margaret caught a glimpse of another dark shape moving off to her right as the hard lump was removed from her back. A gloved hand held up the gun for her to see before she felt it press against her side this time.

“Please,” she whimpered, “we don’t have anything here. I’ve got some money in my purse but it’s only a hundred dollars or so. My husband is away, he deals with all of that stuff.”

“We know exactly where your husband is, my dear,” the voice continued. It had a harsh, metallic tone to it, and sounded… artificial somehow. Margaret remembered a toy that Russell had had as a child. A Transformers mask that could change his voice to that of the movies’ robot characters. This was the same sort of thing, but now it sounded sinister and frightening.

“He’s the reason we’re here, but we don’t need him for this. You and your boy will have everything we need. Now come on, let’s get inside before anyone sees us.”

Margaret stumbled forward as he pushed the muzzle of the pistol deeper into her flesh. With trembling fingers, she fished out her keys and tried to open the door. It took two attempts but eventually, it swung open. The interior light came on by itself, bathing the hallway in a warm, yellow glow. That in turn revealed Russell standing at the foot of the stairs in just his boxer shorts.

“Hi Mom,” he began before he became aware that all was not well. The man with the gun pushed Margaret inside, before raising the weapon to point it at her son.

“Freeze, buddy,” the robot voice rang out. “Do as we say, and nobody gets hurt, too much.”

“What the…” Russell began before the second man pushed past Margaret and brandished a stun gun at him. He pressed the button and a lurid blue light crackled at its tip. Another weird voice called out, “Relax, Russell. We’re not here for you. Just play it smart and nobody has to die.”

Russell raised his hands in what he hoped was a placatory gesture. He looked fearfully towards his mother. Her face was as white as a sheet, and the second black-clad figure was pressed against her side. He looked at Russell and asked, “Where’s the safe?”

“The what?” Russell blurted out before he could think. “We don’t have a fucking safe. Jeez, I don’t even have a freakin’ piggy bank.”

“Don’t try and be a hero, kid,” the intruder grunted. “My Glock is pointing straight at your mom’s heart, don’t make me test my aim.”

Russell shrugged, doing his best emoji impression as he glared from one man to the other. They were each dressed the same, all in black. Work boots, cargo pants, hoodies, gloves, ski masks, and tinted goggles. Not an inch of skin was visible. The one with the taser had blue-rimmed goggles whilst his partner wore red.

“OK, what do I call you?” Russell asked. “If I’m going to follow your instructions, we need to be able to communicate. You seem to know who we are but you two look like twins.”

“I’m Mr. Red,” the man said, pointing to his colored goggles. “My colleague here is Mr. Blue, alright?” Without waiting for a response, he carried on. “Now, where the fuck’s the safe?”

“Listen Red,” Russell said, “I don’t know anything about a safe. I’m not trying to be a hero, I’m just trying to be honest with you. All I want is for my mom to be safe.”

The taser crackled again, uncomfortably close to his face.

“Mr. Blue, bind his hands. I don’t fucking trust him to play smart. Now, Momma where’s the fucking safe, for real?”

“B… b… bedroom,” Margaret managed to say, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Red said, poking the gun firmly into her side. “Upstairs I presume?”

When Margaret nodded Red urged her forward. Blue had produced a bunch of zip ties and bound Russell’s hands behind his back with them.

“Lay on, Macduff,” Red said, nodding at Russell. The boy turned and began to climb the stairs. Margaret thought he looked like a condemned man heading to the gallows. She froze, letting out a fearful moan at the thought. But another firm poke from the gun barrel got her legs moving again.

In the master bedroom, Red told Blue to close the drapes as he pushed Margaret onto the bed. Turning to Russell he indicated for him to sit on the wooden chair at his mother’s dressing table. Once Blue finished at the windows he knelt and fastened Russell’s wrists and ankles to the chair.

“Leave him alone,” Margaret screeched. “Why are you doing that? We’re going to do what you want, we already told you that. Stop, you’re hurting him. Please.”

Russell had winced and grunted in pain as Blue cinched up the zip ties. “I’m fine, Mom,” he said, “the asshole just nipped my skin a bit.”

“Careful, Mr. Blue,” Red said. “We don’t want any silly accidents, do we? Now, Marg dear. Where’s the safe then?” Red demanded.

“In the wardrobe, it’s bolted to the floor,” she sniffled.

“Mr. Blue, get Mrs. Armstrong a fuckin’ Kleenex or something. For Christ’s sake, we’re not animals, man,” Red laughed as he slid open the wardrobe door.

It was a walk-in affair, about six feet on a side. There was a dresser set against one wall, with one of its middle drawers left open. Red proffered the gun to Blue, telling him to stay alert. Then he entered the wardrobe and looked around. The digital keypad on the floor safe was obvious, but Red’s attention was elsewhere.

“Wow,” he hissed, “now, what do we have here?” He dipped a finger into the open drawer and pulled out a skimpy, red thong. Turning to Margaret he asked, “Is this what you wear to the PTA, Mrs. A? Very fetching. Wow, I wish I could take a sniff, but I need to remain professional, you know?” He pointed to the mask covering his face.

“They’re clean, you perverted prick,” Margaret snarled. “All you would smell would be Tide! Asshole.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” he mused, looking her up and down. “But I bet the ones you’re wearing aren’t clean, are they? I bet they’re all hot and sweaty, bursting with sexy aromas. You ever smelled your momma’s greasy, used panties, Russell? Ever rubbed one out with her slimy gusset smeared across your face?” He laughed, the voice changer making him sound like a crazed lunatic. Which for all they knew, might be exactly what he was.

“Fuck off you creep,” Russell exclaimed. “That’s my mom you’re talking about.”

“I know, sonny boy, believe me I know,” Red retorted. “Haven’t you ever noticed what a babe she is? A true, all-American MILF. Don’t you agree Mr. Blue?”

“Fuckin’ A, man,” the other thug chuckled. “Prime, Grade A USDA certified piece of ass, dude. Imagine living under the same roof with that. I’d be plugged in balls deep twenty-four seven if it was me.”

“You and me both, man, you and me both,” Red agreed, nodding. “Ever think about it, Russell? Ever imagine slipping between those lush thighs? Hammering away at your mommy’s sweet hole? Emptying yourself into that gushing twat? Putting a baby in that womb? The place where you were made? Wow, it’s something to think about that’s for sure, eh?”

“Fuck off you psycho,” Russell yelled back. “Don’t you dare talk about my mom like that, you bastard. She’s perfect, she’d never do something as nasty as that. Not with you or him, and certainly not with me.”

“Now, now, Russell,” Red replied in a calm-sounding voice. “I was only asking. Oh, but you’ve missed a trick there my boy. You’ve wasted the chance to experience what your momma has to offer. Oh well, it was a beautiful dream. Now, back to work. Here, Mr. Blue, gag his mouth with these before he says something we all regret.”

Red plucked a handful of Margaret’s panties from the drawer and handed them to his associate. As the man moved towards a snarling Russell, the ringleader’s voice rang out. “Wait, Mr. Blue, give me the gun first. This child is a tricky one and I wouldn’t put it past him to try something silly.”

He held the gun on Russell as Blue stuffed the panties into his mouth. Then he secured them with another of the long zip ties. When he was done Russell’s face looked apoplectic, but his grunts and groans were muted. Handing the gun back to Blue, Red asked Margaret for the combination to the safe.

Her resolve was gone, her spirit broken. Whatever Mark had gotten them involved in was not worth this. She was terrified that Russell would try something brave and heroic. And she was determined not to give him the chance. The man, Red, had said he needed to remain professional. Margaret hoped that meant he just wanted to do his job and be gone. So, she gave him the code, meek as a lamb.

Red knelt by the safe and punched in the numbers. Turning to Margaret he snarled, “It didn’t work, you cunt! What the fuck are you playing at?”

She whimpered at his verbal assault. Her body flinched, falling back onto the bed, arms, and legs akimbo.

“That’s what he told me it was,” she cried. “I’ve never opened it myself.”

“Only joking, honey,” Red cackled before pressing one more button. A beep and a green light confirmed that the code was correct, and he hauled open the safe door.

Margaret fell back on the bed, staring at the bright ceiling lights, breathing hard.

Professional my ass. This guy is a deranged psychopath. Okay, Marg – deep breaths, exactly like Russ showed you. Stay calm, stay focused. Let’s do what he says and maybe they’ll just disappear into the night.

Red rummaged around in the safe before exclaiming, “Aha, here it is,” as he pulled out a manila envelope. Standing up he slipped it into a pocket on his cargo pants. “That was easy now, wasn’t it? We should really leave you to it now, Marg, shouldn’t we? But I think it’s time for us to have some fun, eh Mr. Blue?”

“He’s as hard as a rock, man,” Blue said quietly. “He’s staring right up her dress and he’s as hard as a fucking rock!”

++++

As Red stepped back into the room he took in the scene in an instant. Margaret was lying recumbent on the bed, her legs spread wide apart. As she struggled to rise, her gaze joined the others’ at Russell’s crotch. The throbbing, purple head of his penis stood out proudly from the slit in his boxer shorts.

“Well, well, well,” chuckled Red. “The… boy doth protest too much, methinks. Dearie me, Russell that’s quite a state you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it? Was it the thought of her panties on your face, hmm? Or of blowing your load in her slippery cunt perhaps? Or was it those sexy stocking tops she’s trying so hard to hide from you now?

“Either way, I think it’s a topic that deserves further examination. Margaret, my dear, would you mind awfully slipping off your son’s shorts? I suspect that you’re as interested in their contents as I am, eh?”

Margaret had struggled onto her knees on the bed. Russell’s head was bowed in what must be abject horror and shame she thought. This had gone too far. Breaking and entering plus armed robbery was bad enough, but this? Sexual terrorism? It could not stand.

“Fuck you, asshole I’ll do no such thing,” she roared. “You should be ashamed of your thievery and strong-arm tactics. But sexual abuse? You wouldn’t last a week in prison.”

“Shhh, darling,” Red’s distorted voice whispered. “No one’s going to the big house, but you two lovebirds will end up in paradise. Mr. Blue and I are just here to help you along the way. Mr. Blue? Hit the boy with the taser again if she’s not sniffing his shorts in the next ten seconds.”

Blue crossed the room to stand behind Russell. The boy’s head had come up at Red’s words and his gaze flicked from him to his mother.

“Three,” intoned Red. “Four… five…”

Margaret crawled off the bed and knelt in front of her son, looking up into his eyes.

“It’s OK, baby,” she whispered. “None of this is our fault, it doesn’t mean anything. Close your eyes, honey. Mommy will take care of everything.” She knelt there, trying to make an impossible choice.

“Take me,” she said to the man at her back. “Fuck me, but leave Russell out if it please, I beg you.”

“Ten,” said Red, and Russell howled in agony as the taser crackled at his neck. “Again,” Red insisted, as a second roar of anguish rang out. Russell’s head reared back, his face a mask of pain. The muscles in his arms and legs were taut against their restraints, but it was to no avail.

“Alright, stop,” screamed Margaret. “I’ll do it, just stop hurting him… please.”

With deliberate slowness, she took hold of the waistband of her son’s shorts and began to ease them off. They were stuck under his butt, so she whispered more instructions to him. “Lift up baby, we need to get these ratty old things off you.”

Russell looked down at her, mortified. She gave him a cute little smile and an almost imperceptible nod. At that, he raised himself up and his mother slid his boxers down his legs and off. His cock was so hard that it slapped back against his belly. Red had suggested different reasons for his erection, but it hadn’t had a single cause.

Some of what the bastard had said was true, however. He had imagined her doing those things to him and he had peeked up her dress. He couldn’t help it. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and rational thought had abandoned him.

And now here he sat, naked as the day he was born watching his mother sniff the crotch of his soiled underwear.

“Good girl,” Red chuckled. “Get a good whiff of his scent, darling. I bet that’s not the first time you’ve done that, is it? I bet you’ve often stood in your laundry room, filling your lungs with his masculine essence. Sucking it into your lungs as you rub your slimy clit to a crashing climax. Eh?”

“No, I’ve never done that before, ever,” Margaret whined, even as she inhaled deeply once more. Russell’s spicy, male aroma was intoxicating; clean and fresh, but raunchy and sexy too. She had to stop, to throw the vile things away.

Just one more sniff first though…

“Ha-ha, she’s lovin’ it,” Red sang with a laugh. “Look, Mr. Blue. Look at her big, stiff nipples. They look lovely, don’t they, Russell?”

The bewildered teenage boy was transfixed by his mother. He had never had the chance to ogle her like this before. He thought she suffered from some sort of body dysmorphia or something. She was always fretting about her weight or her hair or her clothes. Sure, she wasn’t a skinny supermodel, but for a mid-forties mom, she was spectacular.

Plump tits, a perky, bubble butt, and legs that went on forever. She was the archetypal Midwestern MILF. And now she was sniffing his sweaty shorts, her nipples threatening to burst from her dress. No, she was tossing them across the room now, and turning her attention to… his prick.

Russell couldn’t even lean forward to try and hide it from her gaze. At least his balls were tucked between his thighs, he thought. But his mother was staring at his cock… and licking her lips.

“That’s it, baby, lube up those lovely DSLs. Get them ready for a little kiss, right there on the tip,” Red said, his voice low and encouraging.

Margaret’s head whipped around to glare at him. “Fuck you,” she cried. “I’ll never do that. There’s no way, I just couldn’t.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “Mr. Blue, shoot him in the head and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

His accomplice slid the action on the pistol and placed its muzzle at Russell’s temple.

Time stood still as Margaret stared at the dark, malevolent weapon. In her mind, wheels spun within wheels furiously. Enormous decisions were being made. But she only had very limited information. And she was playing for the highest stakes imaginable. She knew that she could not afford to get this wrong.

“No,” she wailed, her voice plaintive. “Please don’t. I’ll do it. You don’t know what you’re asking but I’ll do it. I’ll kiss my son’s penis, just don’t hurt him. Please.”

Blue remained in position as Margaret turned back towards Russell. She reached out to take his left hand in hers, interlocking their fingers. “Forgive me, baby, I’m so, so sorry,” she said before planting a chaste kiss on the crown of his cock.

Russell released a low moan despite straining to keep it in. He had known that the intimate contact was coming and had tried to steel himself. But the reality of her touch was beyond his wildest imaginings. The heat of her lips seared across his mind, their moist softness churning his very soul.

And then she did it again.

Margaret couldn’t help herself. Like her son, she was amped up on a heady cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and now lust. His smell had awakened something deep within her that had long lain dormant. A repressed sexuality that she had almost forgotten she possessed. But now it had come flooding back, coursing along her veins like a hit of crack cocaine.

And then her lips had made agonizing contact with his cock. She recalled the day when they had had him circumcised. Not for religious reasons but for medical ones. Phimosis the doctors had called it. Back then he had only been a child but now he was a man. His little slug had become a big, fat schlong. And now her lips were touching it.

She smooched him lightly before leaning back to stare at the throbbing veins of his thick shaft.

You forgot to use your tongue you silly bitch. Do it again, but properly this time.

Her lips parted and her tongue roved across Russell’s taut glans. She worried at his pee hole with the tip. Mark had always enjoyed that, she remembered.

Who cares if Mark enjoyed it? Oh fuck, stop thinking like that, stop thinking about him. It’s Russell you’re here with, Marg. Your only son. STOP IT! Stop it right now.

But she could not. These horrible, terrible men had forced her to this, but her barren, neglected body had welcomed it. She had wanted it and secretly needed it. She gripped her son’s hand tighter as she journeyed onward.

“Look at her go, boys,” yelled Red. “YEEHA! Suck that cock, Marg. You go, girlie.”

Margaret’s inner teen slut smiled at the bawdy encouragement. But Margaret the woman was much more focused on the lewd sucking motions of her mouth and lips. Russell’s cockhead was wedged against the back of her throat now as she devoured him. Thick saliva drooled from her lips to puddle atop his lurking ball sac.

Her free hand caressed his hairless chest and stomach. She choked momentarily, laughing as she compared his physique to her husband’s. Russell’s skin was smooth and soft, much as it had been when she bathed him as a child. His nipples were firm points but the room wasn’t cold, and she smiled to herself. It was working, he was enjoying it.

Russell himself was beyond any form of resistance. The heat and moisture of his first blowjob was indescribable. He wiggled in the chair, trying to spread his thighs. He could feel his mother’s fingers worming between them, searching out his precious orbs.

And then they were free, and Margaret’s slippery fingers began a skilled massage. She rolled the fleshy spheres between her nimble digits, tumbling them back and forth. With a gurgling grunt, she took his shaft deep into her throat.

“Release one of his legs, Mr. Blue,” Red commanded and Russell felt him cut the plastic restraint. “Spread your legs, sonny boy,” Red cried, the glee obvious in his voice despite the distortion. “Let her get right in there. Man, you’re a lucky, fucking bastard.”

Russell complied, as much for himself as for Red’s instruction. His mother was fucking him with her face, whilst squeezing and caressing his balls. Then she was sucking so hard on the head of his dick that he felt faint. Then without warning, he felt his balls being engulfed by her ravenous mouth. The slimy heat of her saliva warmed his very soul, even as her skillful tongue roamed over the hairy skin. With a tiny loss of suction, she released them and went back to working on his dick.

On and on she went, licking and sucking at him, snuffling, and snorting as she did so. Margaret had long since released his hand so that she could jack off his shaft. She had settled into a rhythm now, her lips pulling on his glans as she sucked on him. Her right hand was gently caressing his scrotum as her left became a blur up and down his shaft.

Russell was no stranger to the feeling of impending orgasm. He wasn’t a chronic masturbator, but he wasn’t far off. But the feelings that his mother was producing in his body were way over the horizon from what he could manage. By rights, he should have cum at least three times by now. But he found that he could not.

Glorious as the feelings were, it was still his mom who was slavering over his prick. No matter what, he couldn’t cum with her there, even with what she was doing to him. His head was shaking back and forth as he tried to make her understand through the damp wad of her panties in his mouth.

“Mom… Momma… Mommy, please stop,” he moaned. Unfortunately, all that the others could hear were muffled groans.

But Margaret did stop, pulling off him and pausing her ministrations. She had sensed that something was wrong and stared up at him now. At the tears of shame and horror in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked. “Don’t you like it?”

It’s amazing Mom, you’re amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it. But I can’t cum, not for you, not like this. I’m sorry.

“Mmpf, mmpf, mmpf,” was all she could hear through his panty gag.

“What the fuck?” cried Red. “We’re just getting to the good bit. Come on Marg, make him cum. I want to see you gulping it down, like a Fourth of July margarita.”

Marg looked into her son’s eyes through a haze of sweat and tears. Her sweet boy looked so confused. He simply didn’t have the experience required to understand what was happening. She knew what he needed, what they both needed to get out of this terrible situation.

Permission.

“It’s OK, baby,” she said softly. “I want you to. Just let it go and this will all be over. Just this once I can do this thing for you, then we’ll never have to think of it again. Can you be strong for me, son? Can you be my big strong man and give me what I want?” She paused for a second, searching for acknowledgment in his eyes. Not finding it, she continued in a whisper.

“Can you give me … what I… need?”

Seconds passed that felt like eons, but finally, there at the end of time, Russell nodded.

In an instant Margaret was back on him, sucking, licking, and pumping for all she was worth. She turned up the volume on her lewd, sloppy soundtrack. She hummed as she sucked, moaning her appreciation feverishly. Her hands went around his waist, clasping his meaty buttocks firmly. She pulled hard, but secured as he was, he never moved. But that had not been her intention at all. Instead, it was she who lurched forward as she impaled herself on her little boy.

The strong muscles of her gullet spasmed and clutched at his rod as she swallowed. The quivering stricture gripped and massaged Russell’s ramrod prick. The gurgling, retching sounds that emanated from his mother were disgusting and depraved. But they were utterly mesmerizing too. She was doing this for him because she loved him and wanted to protect him. She was debasing herself for him in front of these invaders and he wanted to reward her. He wanted to shower her with gifts. He wanted to give her his most precious possession… his cum.

Something had broken in Russell. Whether it was his willpower, or society’s incest taboo no longer mattered. His reluctance was gone, swept away in a torrent of sexual ecstasy. Its source no longer mattered, only the result. As his mother somehow increased her intensity once more, it began.

Margaret knew the signs. Initially, she had been acting, playing to her audience. She had been desperate to satisfy the terrifying onlookers. Desperate to make them leave. But then slowly, as her memories of giving great blowjobs came back, something had changed. She had begun to enjoy it. Especially when it became clear that Russell was going to cum.

It wasn’t just the physical sensations she enjoyed per se, but the emotional ones. This was Russell, her little boy. His big fat man-cock was halfway to her stomach. His sweaty balls felt hot in her hand as she imagined them sloshing with his fertile, young seed. Memories assailed her, of days out to the beach, of building sandcastles and eating ice cream. Of baking birthday cakes and their disastrous experiment with Beef Wellington.

He was a truly wonderful son, she adored him beyond all else in the world. And now she wanted his sperm in her belly.

No, I fucking need it in there.

Pre-cum was bubbling up from the tip of his cock. She slurped it down in readiness for what would soon follow. Her son was moaning above her as she treated him to the best blowjob she could. His thigh muscles twitched as he tried to stem his inexorable explosion. But it was impossible, she was just too good.

Russell strained to resist, to hold back his eruption. It was the exact opposite of his usual masturbatory sessions. In them, he was always racing for the finish line, desperate to raise his hands in celebration. Now he was desperately trying to save his mother from eternal damnation. He was not religious, nor even particularly spiritual. But he knew that she might suffer permanent, psychological damage if he let himself cum.

He tried to hold back, to squeeze his muscles, to stem the tide. He thought of schoolwork, of grandma, of washing dishes. But nothing worked. She was just too good. His eyes rolled back, and his balls exploded.

Margaret felt his shaft twitch and lurch and she knew that this was it. Time stretched out ahead of her once more. Teasing and taunting it tantalized her with thoughts of what was to come. Until the first sweet splash of her little boy’s spunk seared across her tongue. Then it was all frantic activity. She tried to savor his taste as a second barrage filled her mouth. Above her, Russell was groaning as if in agony. But his momma knew that what he was feeling was the exact opposite of that.

For Russell, that detonation of ecstasy was the greatest thing that ever happened. To anyone, anywhere, ever, he thought. Why had he ever wasted his seed by spraying it into an old sock or a tissue? This was what it was for — blasting into his mom’s gulping throat. Filling her belly with its sticky poison. His love for her reared up to engulf him as his balls emptied. He needed to touch her, to thank her, to love her, but he could not. Under the strain of his unrequited feelings, his mind short-circuited. And Russell Armstrong fainted dead away.

Margaret didn’t even notice. She was too busy fulfilling her secret pornstar fantasies. Jerking a big hard cock into her ravenous mouth, sucking out its life-giving seed. Swallowing a man’s sweet cum.

No, a boy’s sweet cum. My boy’s sweet cum. Russell’s sweet cum.

As his bountiful issue waned and then came to a halt, she continued to nurse on him. Even as his turgid spear began to wilt, she sucked and licked, cleaning him up.

Like a good mother should. Well, a good, perverted mother anyway, hehe.

That thought brought her up short and she allowed her baby boy’s prick to slide from her lips.

What have you done, you whore? You slut. You bitch. You cunt.

She pushed herself up from her knees and flopped onto the bed, her suppressed tears finally beginning to flow.

In the chair beside her, Russell began to come round. Shaking his head, he smiled at the feeling of total satisfaction that suffused his body. Then he heard his mother crying and came back to Earth with a frightening bump.

Holy shit. We’re fucked now. Oh, Mom, I’ve lost you, haven’t I? There’s no coming back from this is there, for either of us?

He looked up at his chief tormentor, Mr. Red, who began to applaud. The sound was muffled by the gloves he wore, but the meaning was clear.

“Bravo you two, what a wonderful performance,’ he said, the laughter clear in his voice. “Your faux reluctance just made it all the sweeter, Margaret. Mr. Blue, make a note for us to bring a GoPro the next time. 4K, HDR, maximum quality. This stuff is pure cinema gold.”

“Fuck off then, you bastards,” yelled Margaret. “You’ve had your sick, twisted fun and you’ve stolen whatever that was from our safe. Go now, leave us alone. Please, before you do any more damage.”

“Oh Margaret,” Red said sympathetically. “We can’t leave now. Not after such a magnificent performance as that, can we? You’ve titillated us with the greatest blowjob of all time. And with your beloved son of all people. How could you think to leave your adoring audience wanting more? We must see the rest. We must see you.

“So, Russell, what’s next then? Now that we’ve relieved a bit of pressure, eh? What’s next on your bucket list of carnal, incestuous delights? Your lovely mom has seen everything you have to offer, but what about her? Haven’t you ever peeked at her in the shower or on the toilet, perhaps? Hmm? Turnabout is fair play, don’t you think?

“Why don’t you help her out of that pretty dress, Russell? She must be all sweaty under there by now. Plus, some of your nasty mess has dribbled down the front of it. It’s time for you to help your mommy, my boy. She’s been helping you throughout your life, I think she deserves the same consideration, eh?”

Margaret shrieked with fury, rising from the bed like a wailing banshee. Her fists were balled up and her eyes flashed with murderous rage. Until Blue grabbed her under the arms and wrestled her back onto the bed. He was surprisingly gentle, using the minimum of force to get her under his control. As she fell though, Margaret caught her knee on the round, wooden post at the bottom of the bed. She yelped in pain but bit off a stinging rebuke as Blue leaned over her. He brought the crackling taser around in front of her face. Margaret’s eyes widened and she fell back onto the bed, defeated.

“Mr. Blue, stand down,” Red roared. “Was that really necessary? Margaret, my sweet, are you alright? The pain is only temporary, it will pass. But I hope you now understand how serious we are. We’re going to see that sumptuous body of yours in all its glory… and so is Russell. And then he’s going to get to feel and taste it too, before slithering inside it and seeding your womb. Won’t that be lovely?”

Margaret moaned and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders sagged and began to shake. The sound of her sobs rang out from the supposed safety of her comfortable bed. Her mind was in turmoil, a confused whirlwind of feelings, thoughts, and emotions. She was terrified, unsure of their motives or limits. She was afraid for herself and her son. Her fear centered first on the short-term pain they were enduring. But the long-term emotional damage they could suffer was a much more worrying problem.

But the main source of her angst, the capstone to this whole dreadful experience, was her lust. She had pleasured her son sexually. She had taken him into her mouth and throat and given him an obscene blowjob. And the pure lascivious passion that had erupted in her breast, had blown her mind.

It was an utterly alien feeling, all at once appalling and wonderful. She was afraid to look at him, lest she fall irrevocably in love with him. She hadn’t felt like this ever before. It was confusing and scary, she thought, and… and… and… sublime.

As that thought permeated her psyche, the clouds in her mind parted. Warm, morning sunlight bathed her thoughts in a comforting glow. Her heart rate slowed, and her thinking cleared. She relaxed, wondering why she had ever been afraid. She realized that she might fall in love with her son, her perfect man, her soul mate.

Why wouldn’t you want that, Marg? Surely that’s the thing you have yearned for all these years, isn’t it? A knight in shining armor to come and whisk you away. Well, here he is. You know he loves you completely, as his momma. You just need to convince him to love you in that special way as well. It shouldn’t be that hard, should it? The fact that your belly is full of his cum is a pretty good start!

Blue moved away and cut off Russell’s restraints, once again gathering up the zip tie shards. Russ pulled the saliva-soaked panties from his mouth. He winced as he rubbed his wrists, trying to stimulate his circulation. As he looked up to assess the situation he flinched, staring straight into the barrel of the gun. Red held it steady, trained on Russell’s forehead as he spoke.

“Come on Russell, get over there and undo her zipper. Let’s get a look at that stunning, MILF body. I know I want to and I’m pretty sure you do too. Look at those legs, man. What do you think, is that plain old hose or a pair of sexy thigh-highs perhaps? Or could they be stockings? With a garter belt even? Come on boy, I need to know.

“Dear God, what about her panties? What will they be like? Sexy like the ones you had in your mouth, or sensible like a mom should be wearing? Ooh, or do you think she even bothered with panties at all tonight, dear boy? It’s like Christmas, Russ. No one knows what they’re going to get. Dive in, let’s see what Santa has got for us.”

“You sick fuck,” Russell intoned hoarsely. “I’m going to track you down for this. If it takes the rest of my life, I don’t care. I shall look for you, I shall find you and I shall kill you.”

“Bring it on little boy,” sneered Red. “I look forward to pitting my wits against the next Liam Neeson. But first, we need to get a look at your mom. At her tits and her ass and that sweet, sweet pussy. Get on with it before Mr. Blue gets any more out of control.”

The crackling sound of the taser galvanized Russell and he joined his mother on the bed. Kneeling behind her he leaned in to brush the hair from her eyes. With his lips almost touching her ear he whispered to her softly.

“It’s OK, Momma. I think we have to do this. These two aren’t in their right minds. We’ll get through it together, we can be strong for each other. I promise to be careful, and I’ll be as respectful as they’ll let me. I love you, Momma. Trust me and this will all be over soon.”

Margaret stirred, sitting up and twisting round to face him she took his face in her hands. As she stared into his eyes, into his mind, and into the very depths of his soul, she nodded.

“I love you too, son. You’re right, whatever this is that we’re caught up in, I don’t see another way out. Let’s get it over with. The sooner we do, the sooner we can get these bastards out of our house,” she sniffed. With a deep sigh, she began unwrapping her pashmina and clambered off the bed.

She stood with her arms crossed over her breasts, looking at her son over her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, the naked boy stood and moved behind her. He put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. The other hand gripped the tab of her dress’s zipper and began to tug it downwards.

The sound was loud in the silent room as all four occupants were holding their breath. Finally, Russell reached the end of the line but while the dress gaped to show his mother’s bra strap, it did not fall.

“There’s a hook at the top too,” Margaret whispered, looking over her shoulder once more.

Russell colored at his stupidity. He had known that but was so nervous that it had slipped his mind. He used both hands to undo the fastener and stood back to watch the unveiling.

Nothing happened, the shimmering blue gown stayed resolutely in place. Russell realized that his mom was still holding it up with her arms, which were locked across her chest.

“Come on, my dear,” chuckled Red, “don’t be shy. I’m sure Russell has seen you in a bikini before. What’s the holdup?”

“I don’t have any fucking bikinis that look like this,” Margaret hissed. With a furious glower at her captor, she finally released her grip on the dress.

With a sibilant sigh, the elegant garment slid down her body to puddle at her feet.

Russell took an involuntary step back as Red whistled, and Blue gulped noisily. Margaret Armstrong was a vision of mature, feminine perfection.

From his position behind her, Russell could see the strap of her black brassiere. It ran across her strong back, pressing into the soft, supple flesh on her sides. Her luscious rump was encased in sheer panties which had no weave. They were pretty much transparent, showing only the secret crack of her ass. There it lay, a covert highway leading down to untold mysteries below.

Above that was the black garter belt with its straps clipped to the tops of her silk stockings. It was an image torn not from the pages of the Sears catalog, but from Playboy itself. His mother was sex incarnate, a goddess come down to earth to tease and torment mere mortal men. The effect on the boy was profound. As his penis hardened once more, the breath left his body with a wailing moan.

“Give us a twirl, darling” demanded Red. “And hold those fucking arms out so we can see what you’ve got for us.”

“Please, no,” wailed Margaret. “Surely this is enough? You’ve got what you wanted from the safe already. You don’t need to do this, you don’t need to put my poor, gay son through any more of this.”

“Gay?” cried Red. “He’s not fucking gay. He’s horny as fuck for you and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. Mr. Blue, how much juice is left in the taser?”

“65 percent,” replied his accomplice. “Do you want me to give her some more encouragement?”

“If she’s not spinning like a top in the next five seconds, blast her in the ass, Mr. Blue,” Red sneered. The sparkling taser crackled as Blue moved towards Margaret.

She spun, arms outstretched until Russell could see her bounteous breasts. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the deep, dark cleavage between them. Like her panties, the bra had no woven sections so her dark, dusky nipples were clearly on display. They were fat, turgid nubs stretching out towards him, begging for his touch. The front of her panties looked just the same. Russell, gasped as he caught sight of her wispy pubic hair for the first time in his life.

He wasn’t sure, but he imagined that he could see a hint of her vertical crease. Her most secret place, the one that sons shouldn’t even dream about, never mind see, or especially… touch.

That’s her split. I can see the line of her pussy lips. And those tits and her legs and that ass. My god, she truly is perfect. But I can’t look, not like this. It’s not fair, I have to be strong, for both of us.

“Mom,” he stammered, “you’re b… beau… you’re… fucking gorgeous.” His face had turned crimson, from a combination of desire, embarrassment, and excitement. Then he noticed that her eyes were downcast, and those other feelings were trumped by his shame.

Margaret’s eyes were looking down, but not at the floor as Russell had surmised. No, they were locked onto her son’s prick. His big, hard, throbbing cock which was pointing straight towards her. This experience had been humiliating and degrading, she thought. It was terrifying and shocking in equal measure. But in a tiny, secret place at the core of her brain, she also felt a frisson of… excitement.

She wasn’t a nun, she was a healthy woman in the prime of her life. A woman who had been deprived of adult fun and affection for more than a decade. A woman whose long-lost libido was roaring back to life. Her lips twitched as a smile tried to form upon them. But she resisted the urge, resisted it hard as she knew she must.

The problem was that she didn’t know how long she could keep it up. How long she could keep a lid on her burgeoning exhilaration.

Or on my perverted, incestuous lust.

“That bra looks very tight on you, dear Margaret,” Red spoke up. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without it? The three of us sure would be, eh lads? Turn around so that Russell can undo it for you. I’m sure he could use the practice,” he said, finishing with a derisory chuckle.

Margaret turned away from her son, presenting him with a view of her smooth back and pouting ass once more.

“The hooks are in the middle, baby,” she said, looking over her shoulder. Just pull them against each other and it will come undone.”

Her son didn’t move, as his mind was filled with abhorrent thoughts and sensations. He was trying to think rationally, to do the right thing. But it was hard, so terribly, terribly hard.

Blue didn’t hesitate though. He jabbed the taser into Russell’s back and pulled the trigger. Margaret screamed as her son lurched away from his attacker, falling onto the bed. He cried out in agony but luckily seemed to remain conscious.

“Do what he says, fucker,” Blue snarled, “or next time it will be her.”

Russell stood groggily and approached his mother. Without any ceremony, he gripped her bra strap and undid the clasp. Like her dress, it didn’t immediately fall since Margaret was holding the cups with her hands. She turned towards him slowly before letting the flimsy garment fall away.

“Hey, no fair,” yelled Red. “We wanna see them too.”

“Wait your turn, little boy,” Margaret said, her contempt clear. “The man in the room gets to see them first.” Facing Russell she continued, “Well, honey, what do you think? Pretty gross I suppose.”

Russell was struck dumb. His mom’s breasts were glorious, so full and firm. They sagged a little of course, but they were real, not like the stupid coconut shells that the girls online had. Her nipples were huge, and so, so hard. They had their own gravitational pull, and his mouth was right in the firing line. A line of drool ran from the boy’s lips.

I want to suck those things… again. It’s been seventeen years, but I want them in my mouth, I need them between my lips once more. But I can’t, not like this. It’s not fair to her, I must resist…

His face moved towards her of its own volition, mouth open, tongue protruding.

“Ah, ah, ah,” cried Red. “Not so fast, buddy boy. Raise your arms Maggie and spin around. I want to see the girls dance.”

Margaret was much quicker to consent this time. Without a second thought, she spun daintily on her patent pumps. Her boobs swung and bobbled as she moved. Their parabolic trajectory hypnotized her audience with their mystical, feminine power. With a smile, she reached up and tweaked both nipples. Her fingers pulled them away from the stippled flesh of her areolae.

Red clapped and Blue cheered at this, but it was Russell’s reaction that fascinated his mother. His hand had dropped to his penis and begun to stroke it. Impossibly it seemed to get even harder under his mother’s startled gaze. She watched, enthralled as he stared back at her plucking fingers.

Something broke within her. A dam, constructed from fear and shame had resided in her mind throughout her life. A dam that held back the roaring maelstrom of her rampant sexuality and desire.

A religious upbringing and puritanical parents had only strengthened the barrier. Her role as a mother had added bulk and rigidity, even as the pressure from behind it had increased.

But unbeknownst to her, an increasingly loveless marriage had made it brittle. Until this very moment, she had assumed that it was impregnable, a simple fact of her life. Its motto had been, “Your love for him is purely maternal and can never be anything else.”

But here in her bedroom, in an atmosphere born of fear and terror, the dam broke. It cracked and split and was swept away in an instant. Behind it her lurking horror had been released to sweep over her, searing her soul.

My inner incest slut! It’s been set free!

In a moment of clarity, Margaret understood that her innocent teasing had been no such thing. In her confused and lonely state, she had been flirting for real. Her tortured subconscious had been sending strong, unequivocal messages to her son. Sexual messages indicating her desire and yearning for him. And now there was a chance that he might reciprocate those feelings. That he might somehow… feel them too.

“Touch me, baby,” Margaret crooned. “Touch my breasts… please.”

Russell’s gaze met hers and he stepped forward, releasing his throbbing member. Margaret took him by the wrists and guided his hands to her chest.

“Hold them, darling,” she insisted. “Feel their weight.”

Her young son’s palms cupped her trembling flesh as his fingers closed delicately over her tits. His fingertips sank deep into the pliant meat of her mommy udders. Margaret sighed at his illicit touch. Urgent messages of excitement and arousal were sent surging towards her cunt.

Russell swooned at the forbidden sensations that coursed along his squeezing fingers. He could feel his mom’s stiff nipples burning into his palms. He had never encountered anything quite like this before. They were like jello, but warm and alive and… all for him!

“Pull on my nipples, baby,” she said, her voice husky and deep. “Use your thumbs, squeeze them hard.”

Russell adjusted his grip so that he could capture the thick, rubbery paps. He gripped them between his thumbs and the sides of his fingers. The first gentle squeeze lit a fire under his mother who groaned her appreciation.

“Harder, baby,” she insisted, “hurt me a little… please.”

Russell’s second squeeze pretty much launched his mother into orbit. She screamed her orgasm to the heavens, sagging against her boy momentarily. He in turn supported her without ever relinquishing his grip. Their bodies crashed together, a head-on collision that had become unavoidable. And for the first time in Russell’s life, his penis encountered someone else’s pubic hair.

Margaret’s fur-covered mound puffed out her gossamer thin panties. Her downy curls felt soft as silk against his pulsing glans. Margaret was coming back to Earth after her epic blast off and began to grind against her darling son. The son who was still mauling fiercely at her tits.

“Hey, Russell,” she whispered up at him. “Lie down, I want to try something.”

With a gentle shove, she eased him backward until his calves encountered the bed. With a groan of disappointment, he let go of her bouncing breasts and fell on his back. His mother knelt between his legs and leaned over him. A long, wet glob of saliva fell from her lips onto his dick. In an instant, she had wrapped her magnificent globes around his length.

“This is a tit-fuck baby,” she mewled. “It’s a special treat that only big, fat girls like me can give you. Do you like it?”

Russell struggled to speak under her slippery assault. The image of her magnificent boobs encasing his pistoning prick was life-affirming. He worked his lips to produce some moisture before trying to speak.

“Not fat. Beautiful. Wonderful. Sexy. Perfect,” was the best that he could do. Margaret smiled, blowing him a kiss. They had both completely forgotten the two evil perverts that stood beside them.

“That’s nice, Mags,” said Red, “real, real nice. But I want to see him suck those fine big nips. And I bet he wants to as well, don’t you Russ, eh?”

Russell nodded, never taking his eyes from his mom. She smiled even wider and released her grip on her boobs. Slowly, like a stalking jungle cat, she crawled along his body, raising herself onto all fours. Her glistening breasts succumbed to gravity as she moved. They lengthened below her chest before she brought them to rest above her baby boy’s face.

“Thirsty baby?” she teased with a delightful giggle. “I wish I had milk for you. Maybe if you pull hard enough, you’ll find some. Come on, suck on me, like you used to.”

Even as Russell’s head strained up towards her, she lowered herself to his pouting lips. Like a hungry toddler, he latched onto a distended nipple and sucked for all he was worth.

The fantastically intimate contact sent a charge through Margaret’s body. Even as she reached down to support Russell’s head she orgasmed again. Her belly muscles rippled as she came. Deep inside, a chain reaction of glorious pulses turned her guts to water.

“Look at her go, Mr. Blue,” cried Red. “She’ll be cummin’ round the mountain when she cums. Hot dang, boy is that ever a sight to see? Wow!”

“Jesus H. Fuckballs Christ, Mr. Red,” Blue exclaimed, “that is the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well hold on to your hat, my friend,” Red replied, “because we’re about to light the afterburners now.”

In front of them, Russell switched to his mother’s other teat. Again, he simply inhaled her and pulled for all he was worth. Above him, Margaret crooned nonsense words as she stroked his hair. Her orgasms had continued, one after another. They were tiny little aftershocks from the “big one,” but no less enjoyable, nonetheless.

She had only just become aware of the state of her panties. Long ago, when she had breastfed her son for real, she had gotten a tiny sexual thrill from the experience. Often when she had laid him down to sleep afterward, she had had to change her underwear. Today, her expensive silks, all the way from Paris, were ruined. They were soaked through with her slimy love-nectar.

But Margaret Armstrong didn’t care one jot. This appalling ordeal had forced her up a mountain of fear and dread. The terror and trepidation she had felt had pushed her over the top into an undiscovered country. And now she was racing down the other side towards adventures new. Towards a strange new relationship with her son. Towards an unknown future on a relentless wave of excitement and anticipation.

Almost.

But doubt, her lifelong nemesis still lingered. Crippling, inhibiting doubt remained the final barrier to the life she desperately wanted. Doubt in herself, in her appearance, and in her son and what was right for him.

But there was no time for self-reflection or introspection here tonight. All she could do was charge blindly down the slope to see where it would lead.

Strong, gloved fingers clutched at her shoulders. A loud voice was shouting but she was so wrapped up in her lust that she hadn’t heard it.

“Get up you randy slut,” Red was roaring at her, “before he swallows you whole. We still have your bottom half to explore.”

Margaret found herself standing beside the bed, tottering on her pointed heels. She shook off the rough hands at her back and looked to Russell.

He was reclining on one elbow, looking up at her appraisingly. His gaze wandered slowly from her head to her feet and back again. She stuck out her hip and bent one knee, putting a finger to her lips in a coquettish parody of Marilyn Monroe. Russell grinned and rolled off the bed to stand in front of her.

“Kneel, boy,” Red roared, pushing down on Russell’s shoulders. He complied, squatting at his mother’s feet, gazing up at her with adoration in his eyes.

“Get those panties off her now, Russ,” Red demanded. “There’s been enough teasing tonight for ten lifetimes, it’s time for her to show us the goods.”

Margaret smiled down at her son, trying to send him a mental image of safety and reassurance. In addition, she stood up straighter and drew her feet together. Finally, she nodded and raised her eyebrows.

Russell smiled back and gripped both sides of his mother’s flimsy panties. With a gentle tug, he pulled down on first one side and then the other. Soon the first of her pubic hairs were peeking over the thin waistband. More appeared as gravity took over and her wispy covering began to slide towards the ground.

Russell leaned back to watch them fall as Red blurted out another immature non sequitur.

“Look at this whore wearing her panties over her garter straps, Mr. Blue. What a slut, eh? Easier access for the old farts at the country club, Maggie? Or is it for your dykey friends’ questing fingers?”

Margaret gave him a withering look before replying. “It’s because it’s easier to pee this way, little boy. Have you ever been in a public restroom? Ever seen the queue for the ladies? Imagine what it would be like if we needed to dismantle half the rigging each time. Idiot.”

She laughed and reached down to tousle Russell’s hair. But her hand froze at his rapt expression. He was staring at the juncture of her thighs.

Poor boy, he’s gone pussy blind.

But that wasn’t it at all. Russell had been watching his mom’s panties as they fell away from her waist. And he’d been watching as their fall was interrupted and then stopped suddenly. The flimsy gusset was glued to her crotch, stuck fast to her dripping pussy juices.

He hadn’t realized that his mom was actually turned on until now. He had assumed that she was playing a role, striving to win an Oscar. But here was definitive evidence, indeed proof, that she was into it. That she was into him.

He gaped at her gossamer panties, plastered as they were against her gooey opening. With all the delicacy of a surgeon, he reached out to tug them clear. There was a delicious initial resistance, but they did begin to move. A long string of clear, thick grool stretched from his mom’s treasure box to the silky cloth.

Russell was mesmerized by the sight… and by the smell!

No, that’s not a smell, Russell. It’s an exquisite… bouquet. Mom’s heavenly aroma. How have I not noticed it before? I’ve lived with her my entire life, night, and day. And it takes this horrible, disastrous fuckup of a night for me to finally appreciate her? I am but evil scum, unworthy and undeserving of the love I crave from her. How have I let things get so far out of control? More to the point… why?

The panties finally dropped away to the floor, puddling around Margaret’s ankles. But for Russ, they were long forgotten. The gooey string of her liquid lust had snapped back and looped around onto his mother’s pubic mound. Before it could melt away into the undergrowth, Russell’s tongue struck like a ravenous viper.

Margaret squealed like a startled virgin, which was exactly how she felt. Her son had plastered his lips to her pubes and was licking like an excited puppy. It was a delightful sensation, full of the sort of youthful enthusiasm she hadn’t felt for decades.

Of course, Red stepped in to ruin it.

“Stop that, Russell. Right now. I want to see what you’re doing,” he growled before pulling Russ back by the hair.

Russell just took it, not even bothering to look up or complain. He was too busy trying to burn his mom’s image onto his retinas forever.

He looked at her closely, like a forensic examiner. Her secret hair looked downy and fine, a texture he had confirmed with his tongue. His tastebuds still burned with the ineffable flavor he had found on her skin. And he was desperate for more.

Below her puffy mound, he could see the pink, crinkly flesh of her pussy lips. She didn’t have one of those baby smooth slits, so beloved of teenage porn starlets. No, these were the gates of heaven, experienced and practiced. They were redolent with character and history… and they called to him.

Below her pussy was a heart-shaped gap between her legs. Unfortunately, all he could see through it was the bastard Mr. Blue, so his gaze moved lower. The smooth flesh of her shapely thighs kissed each other further down, just below her stocking tops. His adoring gaze continued down towards her toned calves and beyond.

At her sculpted ankles, he could see the crumpled panties lying forgotten on the floor. Unbidden, and as if by magic, his mother stepped out of them, releasing them to his fervent grasp. In a moment they were in his hands, in another they were under his nose. With her incredible scent searing his mind clean it was only a moment more before they were in his mouth.

Margaret groaned at his coarse display, astonished by how sexy she found it. As if to underline the fact, another pulse of liquid desire rippled through her cunt.

Russell ignored it all — he was in heaven. The panties that their tormentors had stuffed in his mouth before had been clean and fresh. They might as well have been a dish towel.

But these were… nasty. They were wet and musky. They were soaked in his mother’s precious essence, dripping with her liquid love.

And he was tasting it, absorbing it, swallowing it. It was glorious, a delight beyond imagining. He chewed and licked and sucked on them, desperate to extract every delicious morsel of her flavor. He was moaning too, like a parched man stumbling upon a desert oasis.

Margaret did get to ruffle his hair now, as she watched him devour her panties. They had cost over a hundred dollars, and he was ruining them. She would have paid any price at the time if she had known that they would end up like this.

Finally, Russell pulled the dripping rag from his mouth and tossed it aside. Looking up at her he stretched out a finger towards her crotch. She flinched before relaxing and spreading her legs a little more or him.

Like a docking maneuver from 2001, the tip of his index finger inched towards her pussy. What seemed like hours later, it finally made contact. The wrinkled labial lip was soft and warm to his touch. And it was about the slipperiest thing that Russell had ever encountered.

WD40? Pah. Slippy Tin lube? That shit might as well be superglue.

“That’s your fault you know,” purred Margaret as he explored. “Even after I had June, I was still nice and smooth down there. Your dad called it my perfect peach. And then you busted out mister and left me looking like a landmine victim!”

Well, you and the World’s Fastest Fucker I mean. It was his goddamn friction burns that did most of the damage.

She giggled, letting him know she wasn’t mad about it though.

“I think they’re beautiful, Mom,” Russell breathed, his sense of awe obvious in his voice. He massaged her lips with his fingers, touching them, exploring them… claiming them.

And then she was ripped from his grasp as Blue pulled his mom backward and out of reach.

“I told you we want to see,” screamed an apoplectic Red. “Let us fucking see or I swear I’ll bust a cap in the back of your dumbass head, Russell.”

Russ and Margaret stifled giggles at the ludicrous outburst. It should have been terrifying, the guy was totally unstable. But the Armstrongs were already too far down their own personal rabbit hole to care.

Blue manhandled Margaret onto the bed, throwing her onto her back. Her feet remained on the floor, and she lay there staring at the ceiling, her breath rasping in her ears.

“OK, Russell,” Red said, his voice more under control. “Now you can explore her… with your tongue.”

Russell thought that his manic laugh was probably meant to be intimidating. But all he heard was someone telling him to advance to Go! and collect $200. He fell to his knees, even as his mother spread her legs for him. He wormed his way under her thighs, before throwing them over his shoulders. As he rose up, her hips rolled backward, and her delicious flower opened before him.

Russell wondered how often he had seen dead-eyed pornstars locked in this position. Hundreds? Thousands even? He had no idea, but there was one thing he did know for sure. This was his mommy and she looked magnificent. Her baby blues sparkled with excitement and delight. Her magnificent breasts sparkled with sweat as her chest heaved. And her exquisite womanhood sparkled with love and lust.

And she was right there, ready, and open for him.

“Get in there and eat her out,” Red hissed. “Bite that beaver, chew that cunny, munch that minge. For fuck’s sake Russ, what are you waiting for? Feast!”

In truth, Russell wasn’t waiting for anything. He was enjoying this chance to look at his mom close up. She had never appeared this vulnerable to him before, she was completely defenseless. Nor had she ever looked so beautiful to him.

Her pussy was pretty, he thought. The small patch of fine down that adorned her mound was all there was. Every other inch of her nethers was completely bald. Whether by blade or wax or some sort of womanly black magic he did not know, nor did he care. He just stared in awe.

Her lips weren’t huge, they were purple, plump, and… used, he thought. They had lived, they had given her pleasure and him life. He had split them once before and left his mark on her. And now he had the chance to split them again.

But how can I? She is all I’ve ever desired. She is everything I could want or need in a friend, a companion, a lover. But she’s still my mom. I owe her everything, my very existence even. I can’t betray her like this, not in this vile situation. I have to stop this, it has gone too far, everything is moving too fast.

“No,” he said, trying to quash the quiver in his voice. “Not like this, I can’t. You’re asking me to defile my mother, the most important person in my life. I love her to the depths of my very soul, I desire her like no other, but this isn’t right. This isn’t fair, on either of us.”

“It’s OK,” came the reply. But it was a small, feminine voice that spoke, not the robotic drone of the tyrannical intruders. “It’s OK, baby,” his mother said. “I want it, I want you. I have for a long time. This is our time to be together the way we both need. Kiss me, son. Love me.”

He felt her soft, insistent hands on his head, pulling him down towards her steaming core. He was beyond rational thought now, beyond any ideas of right and wrong. He was falling in love and now he was going to have his first real chance to savor her. His mother’s pouting pussy lips were right there, and they needed his attention. He would kiss her now and seal their taboo pact forever. He would kiss her with love and lust and furious passion. But first, he would taste her.

Then, as he began to lean down to begin the most important meal of his life, he was brought up short. By another insane interjection by one of their captors. This time it was Blue, but his contribution was as inane as anything Red had come up with.

“Look, you can even see her asshole, Mr. Red. Her actual butthole is right there, man. Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever fuckin’ seen?”

Russell paused, reassessing Blue’s comments. He had been so laser-focused on his mom’s vagina that he had completely ignored everything else. But Blue was right, her super-secret hole was right there. It wasn’t precisely winking at him, but it was… calling to him. The twisted flesh of her swirling pucker pulled at him with its irresistible siren song.

“Later, baby,” his mother whispered, breaking his reverie. She had known exactly what he was thinking and had gently but firmly set him back on mission. Without further ado he… attacked her.

Any ideas of giving her pussy the reverent, loving attention it deserved went out of the window. He devoured her protruding lips with his own. He sucked on them and was rewarded with more of her sweet, tangy nectar. He nibbled on them experimentally, eliciting a delightful squeal from his mom.

He separated them with his tongue, running it the full length of her creamy groove. Scooping up another glorious mouthful of… her, he wondered if he was already addicted.

No matter because he had just discovered her clitoris. He concentrated, thinking back to his favorite porn and erotica.

OK, what am I supposed to do here again? Oh, I remember. I need to spell out something, letter by letter with the tip of my tongue. Where should I start? Oh, I know! “Call me Ishmael…

Margaret flinched when he hit the bullseye, but she soon relaxed and began to enjoy his efforts. Whether by luck or judgment he had zeroed in on her neglected clit pretty quickly. What was he doing now, she wondered? That was interesting, a little one-dimensional perhaps, but very titillating, nonetheless.

Ooh, he’s got some energy, hasn’t he? Woo, he’s like a dog with a bone down there…

Russell’s chin was soaked but he barely noticed. His new favorite toy was demanding all of his attention. He had discovered that it was in fact a miniature joystick. After a bit of practice, he found that he had almost complete control of his mother’s body with it. However, he was having to exert more and more strength to hold her down as she writhed below him. Just as he thought she might break free he was ripped away from her by Blue and Red.

Together they had hauled on his shoulders and pulled him backward to the floor.

“Jesus, man,” cried Red. “Couldn’t you hear her whimpering? She’s losing her mind over here. I think she came four or five times.”

Russell realized that Margaret’s silk encased thighs had been clamped tight against his ears. All he had been able to hear was the rush of blood inside his own head. Now he could discern his mother panting and mewling on the bed. He scrambled up to join her there. Looking down at her sweaty face he could see how her makeup had run. Her hair was matted and tangled, her body swathed in a sheen of pungent sweat. But she was smiling, grinning in fact, although her eyes remained resolutely closed.

Relieved that he hadn’t hurt her, Russell fell back on the bed beside her, letting out a whoop of delight.

“Right, Maggie,” said Red, “it’s your turn now. Time for the climax, as it were. Climb aboard and empty his balls. It’s time to drain him dry, to take your boy’s seed deep within your body.”

There was a pause as no one moved or spoke.

The crackling blue light of the taser was visible even through their closed eyelids. But still, neither Russell nor Margaret stirred. Then Russell’s world exploded in light and pain as Blue tased him once more.

“Motherfucker,” Russell growled. “That fucking hurt, you bastard. If you do that again I’ll rip your fucking face off. Give us a minute here. What’s the hurry? Will your mommy ground you if you’re not home before curfew?”

Margaret laughed and sat up. “Alright children,” she announced, “fun’s over. You know I can’t fuck my son, I shouldn’t have done any of these things with him tonight. But you can’t push me any further. If that’s not good enough, you’ll have to shoot me. If you do that to Russell again, Mr. Blue, I’ll attack you myself. Then we’ll see how brave you are.”

Silence reigned in the humid bedroom as all four people looked from one to another. Finally, it was Russell who spoke first, with a tear in his eye.

“Mom, I don’t think I can take another hit from that thing. Honestly, I’m worried that he’ll do it to you next and I couldn’t bear that. Please can we do as he says? It will be quick, I can almost guarantee that. Guys, will you promise to leave us alone after that?” He looked from Red to Blue who both nodded solemnly.

Margaret had launched her last volley with that little tirade. She had nothing more left now. There was no ammo left in the magazine. In addition, her quisling body was crying out for more anyway. More sex, more cums, more fun. She was little more than a bitch in heat now she knew. Her mind clung to the last vestiges of her sanity and rationality, but her pulsing cunt just wanted cock.

And she knew that it was going to win.

“Fuck me, Russell,” she muttered.

“What was that, Marg?” demanded Red. “What did you say?”

“I said, fuck me, Russell,” Margaret growled. Turning to her son who lay beside her she repeated her demand.

Russell sat up and got onto all fours and peered down at her. At her insistent nod he began his final, inevitable journey. With exaggerated care, he maneuvered himself between his mother’s widespread legs. He dropped low above her, staring down at her heaving breasts, and her beautiful face.

Dropping lower still, he brought his body into contact with hers. Her soft breasts smeared themselves across his chest, even as their groins met. He tried to find his goal by rotating his hips, but it was no good, he was all at sea.

But there was his mom, as she always had been. Ready to support and assist him without fuss or rancor. Her cool hand took hold of his anxious manhood and guided him into paradise. He sank within her body for the first time, inch by glorious inch, until they were joined as one.

Margaret stared up at her son as he defiled her. She didn’t think that her body could experience any more contentment or ecstasy than it already had. But she was wrong, way wrong. There was a whole new level of pleasure awaiting her, and Russell would be right there with her.

His penis wasn’t the longest she had ever had or the thickest, but it was her favorite. It filled her with its delicious rigidity, stretching her without pain or discomfort. His body was trim and fit, so he didn’t squash her as Mark always did. As his bloated balls settled onto her squishy lips she felt at peace, she felt complete. Her boy was home, back where it all began, deep inside her.

And then he exploded into action.

He pummeled her, battering at her cunt with rampant energy. She raised her legs to wrap him up, to try to steer his course and keep him embedded within her. But he was relentless, beyond all reason. He was like a machine, one built solely for pleasure and lust.

Russell knew that he was supposed to take it slow, to grind and pull and pump and press. But once his journey into his mom’s body had ended, he had lost it. His genitals were bathed in her hot, buttery goodness and he could resist no longer. He began to move, going straight to maximum speed with no stops in between.

He pounded into her, their bellies slapping together again and again. His cock felt like it was being caressed by a million tiny tongues, even as it was being squeezed and tugged upon too. His balls splashed in the copious fluids pouring from her overheated cunt. Inside her, his spastic thrusting churned her innards to creamy foam.

On and on he went, pistoning into her. She was tight but soft at the same time. Margaret undulated beneath him, matching her movements to her son’s. Her cultured body steered and coaxed him with its strong thighs and calves. He thought he was in heaven, even as his lungs burned, and his heart pounded. Then he looked down and discovered that there was more.

Margaret was in raptures as her son rutted ferociously atop her. Her body was responding to his youthful ministrations in all her favorite ways. Her pussy was quivering with lust as sparks of joy ran up and down her spine. As his head dropped and he took a distended nipple in his mouth, the intensity of her feelings doubled again.

But her mind resisted. Her doubt was still there even after everything that had happened. It was undiminished, despite all that she had done. She wanted and needed to submit to Russell’s onslaught. To welcome his advances and to be with him like this again… and again.

But her doubt remained resolute, holding her back, no matter how good she felt or how much she yearned for him. It was no good, she would never change she knew; could never change. She was incapable of accepting his love for her or of returning it in the way that he wanted and needed.

Margaret began to cry. She cried for the abject abasement she had suffered at the hands of these criminals. She cried for the useless, feckless lump that her husband had become. She cried for her estranged daughter, June. She missed the girl so much, her absence a terrible punishment for Marg’s unknown crime. She cried for her son whom she loved to the very ends of her soul. For the fact that she could not give him what he was giving her. She cried for herself, for the mess she had made of her life and the consequences that that had had on her family.

As her tears began to flow, Russell knew that this was all nearly over. The building pressure in his balls had reached a level he had never known before. The heat and joy that coursed through his veins felt like liquid fire. He was about to cum, about to end this extraordinary journey in the most perfect way possible.

But there was one more thing he wanted to do. The thing that he had wanted to do for longer than anything else that he could remember. The vilest, most taboo thing that it was possible to conceive of. And here as he fucked his mom with furious abandon, the time had come. The moment had arrived for the ultimate defilement of his darling mother. As he opened his eyes to watch it happen, he realized that she was crying. She was looking up at him through blurry eyes, wet with stinging tears. But it was time.

In slow motion, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips…

…and Margaret Armstrong’s life changed forever.

Her last lingering doubt evaporated with the first, electric contact of their lips. It wasn’t a soulful, French kiss, not by a long shot. In fact, it felt strangely chaste given the circumstances. But it stood for something. Something new and powerful and right. It stood for love, between a woman and her son, between Margaret and her precious boy.

Whatever had been holding her back just… vanished. It was gone and she hurtled forward into the future like a hypersonic missile.

She was his, as he was hers. She loved him and would do so until the end of time. She would be his consort, his concubine, his queen… and always his mom.

Russell’s mind turned white with static as he came. He somehow managed to force himself deeper into his mother’s vagina as the first detonation came. Her strong legs gripped him and kept him locked in place as he released himself into her.

Her mouth opened and accepted his tongue, just as her cervix yawned wide and accepted his seed. He poured his noxious essence into the deepest part of his mom’s womb. Blast after blast of his liquid love splashed messily inside her body. Their moans filled the air as they were both wracked with titanic orgasms.

They kissed and groaned and moaned and twitched until neither had a single erg of energy left. They became still, hearts pounding, lungs burning, but still, they kissed. Still, Margaret’s educated muscles milked his tender prick. Her cuntal walls rippled along his length, desperate for even one more drop of sperm. And still, Russell’s tortured balls tried to contract. But it was to no avail, he had nothing left, he was done… he was empty.

As was the bedroom. Their uninvited guests were gone, like the thieves in the night that they were. Margaret and Russell were alone.

01:27 AM, 143 BPM, 523 KCal

Margaret was the first to notice and relief flooded into her at the revelation. She pulled her mouth from her son’s and moved it to his ear.

“That was beautiful, baby,” she whispered. “The most perfect thing ever. They’re gone, the evil bastards who gave us this precious gift. We’re alone… and free. Come, lay down with me and keep me safe. Hold me in your arms forever. I’m yours now, although I guess I always was. It’s official now that you’ve marked me, both inside and out.

“I’m here and I always will be. There will be challenges and tragedies for us in the future, I’m sure. But there will be joy and love and ecstasy too. But that’s for tomorrow. For now, come be with me, be my perfect boy.”

Russell stirred at her words, even as they penetrated his very soul and bound him to her forever. He eased himself from within her clutching hole and lay down beside his mom. He reached around to pull her close, spooning their sticky bodies together.

It was a perfect moment, one born from fear and violence. But it was but the first step on an amazing journey. But that was for the morrow, now they needed sleep.

And like a wave it washed over them, claiming them for its own, for a few hours at least.

++++

Russ awoke with a start, wondering why his room seemed unusually bright and… pink?

Wait, what? I’m in Mom’s bed. Huh?

A ton of bricks landed on him as the lurid, neon memories of the night before exploded into his mind. He sat up with a start to see Margaret perched on the side of the bed in her fluffy, white robe. Her face was flushed and her hair damp. She must have been fresh from the shower he thought, smelling as she did of fresh flowers and green apples.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said brightly. “Bad dream?”

Russ stared at her, agog.

How is she so calm? I pretty much raped her a few hours ago and came inside her. Why isn’t she losing her shit right now?

“Oh, Mom,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. “Last night came back to me in a rush. The terrible memories… it was just so horrible.”

“Oh, I dunno, honey,” Margaret said through a broad smile, “I quite enjoyed it. By the way who’s next, Pam or Cindy?”

Russ froze, his heart skipping a beat.

She knows?! How? We were so careful. Is she bluffing? What do I do? What do I say?

The silence between them stretched on as Russell’s face grew whiter and Margaret’s grin grew wider. He was frantic because this was the only contingency they had not planned for. He ran through one scenario after another but in the 14,000,606 that he tried, only one seemed right. Taking a deep breath, he told her the truth.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said, head bowed, eyes moist. “It was never supposed to go so far, we just wanted to see your boobs and stuff. We’ve all been obsessed since you started walking with the other moms. You know, wearing Lycra and coming home all hot and sweaty and stuff.

“But Steve got carried away and started improvising. I sort of got swept along with the whole thing and couldn’t think how to get out of it. I thought I could stop, but when I was with you it was so amazing that I couldn’t do it. You were so sexy, so perfect that I just couldn’t help myself.

“And now I’ve ruined everything between us. We were always so close, and you’ve always been so good to me. And now I’ve gone and thrown it all away, the most beautiful thing in my life. I hope someday, years from now that you can forgive me, and we can talk together again.”

He rolled off the bed away from her and moved to leave the room. To leave his family home in shame and disgrace, forever.

At the bedroom door, he paused to look back for one final view of his darling mother. To try to take a mental picture that he could carry in his heart forever.

And she smiled at him. A cute, dimpled smile that showed off her dazzling white teeth and beautiful face.

“Where are you going Russell?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should talk? About what we did last night? About where our relationship goes from here? And about how we deal with your father?”

Russell had never even considered that his father would find out. They had assumed his mom would be desperate to keep it a secret. But that needed her to think that the invaders had been strangers, targeting her husband. Not her son and his best friends, targeting her.

Marg’s smile never wavered though and as Russell felt his face turn crimson, she began to giggle.

“Come to me, baby,” she said throatily. Margaret held out a hand to her son, the hand that had been holding her robe closed. As it fell open, it revealed her exquisite naked form below…

… and Russell Armstrong’s life changed forever.

A wave of supreme confidence flooded into him from somewhere. His mother had given him a strong, non-verbal signal that everything was going to be OK. That everything was going to be way better than OK. Awash with the unexpected feelings of joy and relief, Russell let his true feelings show.

“Well, to answer your first question, it’s supposed to be Pam. But how the hell did you know? How did you work it out? I thought that we planned everything so carefully?”

As they fell onto the bed together, kissing and exploring, Margaret gave her side of the story.

“I suppose it’s pretty obvious now, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently, Russell. I mean, in a non-motherly way, in a… naughty, even sexual way.

“It started when you helped me get ready for my first walk with the girls. You complimented me even then and you motivated me to try harder. You were so strong and gentle with my warm downs and stretches. You’ve been so flirty and fun with me recently that I began seeing you as a man. A man I like and enjoy being around.

“I really had convinced myself that you were gay, so I gave myself a pass on my little fantasies. What harm could they do?

“Your father doesn’t look at me that way anymore and I’ve been lonely for a long time. You gave me an outlet for my feelings, and I allowed myself to get swept up in the excitement of it all.

“You boys were very thorough in your planning, but there were a few little things that stood out for me. Things that seemed somehow incongruous. But my mind kept telling me it was just the fear talking as events unfolded. But then Devon racked the slide on the gun, and I knew instantly that it was empty.

“Your father made sure I knew how to use a gun years ago, long before you were born. A Glock makes a very specific sound when you chamber a round, and it simply didn’t happen last night.

“And at that moment all my little doubts crystallized and shattered. The dots joined up and the picture became clear,” Margaret continued. A tiny smirk twisted up the corners of her mouth now, but she carried on.

“Red getting his two Shakespeare quotes exactly right had seemed unusual. Both of the ones he used are often misquoted. There were also the British idioms like “my dear” that he used. I remember Steve being fascinated by those sorts of things when I tutored him last semester. He called me Marg too which felt strange. It’s not the most common contraction and I only use it with close friends and family.

“He was brought up in Canada, remember? Cindy went there to work with that shale oil company after college. He’s the only person I know who says, ‘eh?’ at the end of a sentence.

“And then there was the line about margaritas on the Fourth of July. It’s an unusual drink for that holiday, but we had them at Cindy’s Independence Day party last summer, remember?

“And finally, it did seem a little strange that they went through all that just to steal my old teaching license. I couldn’t quite tell what they took last night but I checked this morning to be sure. I presume I can get it back if I ever need it again?”

“It’s over at Steve’s, Mom,” Russell whimpered. “I’m supposed to go over there later to get it and bring Dad’s gun back.”

“And compare notes too, no doubt,” Margaret sighed, although her lips did twitch, as she suppressed a grin. “I do not want you to tell them that I know, Russell. At some point, I’m going to talk to those boys and set them straight. For now, I am ignoring it all as far as they are concerned. And you are super ashamed and embarrassed. Got it?”

‘Sure, Mom,” Russell said, nodding. “Whatever you say.”

“Anyway, in light of all of those clues, I deduced that we hadn’t been brutalized by psycho burglars at all. No, I had in fact been conned by three naughty, horny teenage boys. One of whom was my own darling son. A nasty, perverted, supposedly gay son who, it turns out, was desperate to get into his mommy’s pants.

“So, I… let you,” she said smiling sweetly. “I decided to make love with my son and not just in my dreams.

“Your little plan hit me at a very vulnerable time, kiddo. My defenses were low because your father is away. But my mood was soaring high because of my night out with the girls. And I had a very close call with you this morning, out on the deck. I almost acted on my feelings for you, almost gave in to them. So on the way home in the car, I decided I would talk with you and tell you how I felt. I planned to tell you the truth about my life and that I would be moving away.

“But when I realized the home invasion was all an act, my plans dissolved, and my attitude changed. I suddenly felt that the situation would allow me to play out my own perverted fantasies. And as a double-whammy, I got to fulfill your dreams too. I had never once considered that you thought of me like that, that you wanted me. Gay, remember?

“But it was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would you have done it? It still took me a while to completely submit to my desires though. In the end, it all came down to the moment when you kissed me. I felt like Snow White waking from her endless sleep. And there I was, my very own Prince Charming kissing me sweetly on the lips… with his big cock buried inside me!

“It was such a perfect, loving, moment that turning away from it was unthinkable. It was the confluence of all of the varied threads of my life. Thousands of thoughts and decisions had culminated in that instant. To deny its truth would have been impossible. And I had no desire to do so anyway.

“But I need to know, Russell. Tell me the truth son, whatever possessed you to do it, honey? The risks were huge, the consequences could have been cataclysmic.

“Have you any idea how serious what you did was? How dangerous? What if I had bailed, knocked one of you down, and taken off running? You’d never have found me outside in the dark. What would have happened if I had called 911 or gotten to the Johnson place?” Her anger cooled as quickly as it had flared up. She wanted to talk with Russell, to understand, and to listen.

“We never really thought about that,” Russell lamented. “I convinced the guys that you would fall for it. I kinda talked myself into believing it too. I mean the taser was just a toy with blue lights and a loudspeaker. And you know the gun wasn’t loaded, I mean we weren’t complete fucking idiots.”

“No, just complete, fucking rapists!” Margaret roared. Her anger returned for one last time as her maternal instincts took charge. But this wasn’t a normal mother/son interaction. This was way more complicated than that. Their relationship had somehow become a highly charged, sexual train wreck. She knew that this was not a moment for raised voices and flaring tempers.

‘Sorry, honey,” she said more quietly, her tone mollified. “I’m glad it all worked out, but it was so risky, so dangerous.”

“We’re teenage boys, Mom. We smoked a little weed, egged each other on, and I guess got carried away,” Russell replied. “From the first moment you touched my naked body, there was no going back. The fuse was lit and my passion and love for you zoomed to the moon. I’m sorry.”

“I understand, baby,” Margaret replied. “I can’t say I’m glad that I raised such a devious, conniving son but I can’t argue with your results. My son, the master manipulator. Who, I’m now beginning to think, somehow managed to set up his father too,” Margaret said.

“What?” cried Russell.

She continued without missing a beat, “Yeah, he called first thing this morning. He’s stuck in a county lockup in southern Idaho. Someone called in an anonymous tip about him breaking state lockdown rules. The local law busted into his motel room where he was entertaining a couple of young ladies. Solicitation is only a misdemeanor there, but he crossed state lines which complicates things. The sheriff said he thought that the girls might have been trafficked from abroad too. Mark could be in a whole heap of trouble.

“The sheriff has confiscated his guns too because he couldn’t produce his license for them. He was sure that it was in the rifle case when he left but it’s not there now. He didn’t even have any ID in his wallet either which seemed strange. To top it off, his vaccination card was nowhere to be found either. Again, he was convinced that it should have been in with his other things.

“Hmm, that is strange, Mom…” mused Russell, his face coloring as he tried desperately not to giggle. He said nothing but his silence spoke volumes. Pausing, Margaret took his hand before continuing.

“I presume that that little trick was meant to ensure that we could have a bit more time together this coming week?”

Russell nodded, unable to speak for fear of breaking the spell and collapsing his house of cards.

“Excellent,” Margaret continued. “That was a brilliant idea, Russ, well done. Based on that assumption, I made an important decision. I told your father that his paperwork was still sitting on the kitchen counter where he left it. I agreed to send it up there as soon as I could. I presume you have it stashed somewhere nearby?”

“It’s under my bed, Mom,” Russell admitted. Nodding, Margaret carried on, a cheeky smile growing on her lips.

“Now, do you think we should help him get out, or should we just tear up this bed together for the next few days?” Margaret giggled, throwing the bedclothes over Russell’s face.

Her son knew that he should be feeling a mixture of abject shame and guilt at his complicity. But he did not, in fact, he felt nothing of the sort. He felt nothing but exultation and joy… as his sexy mother began to deep throat his cock.

She paused what she was doing to look up at him, releasing his prick from her gullet’s warm embrace.

“You little shits really traumatized me last night, Russ. It’s going to take a lot more than a week of rampant fucking to make up for that, my boy. We’ll have to be careful when the jailbird gets back too, especially once you get me pregnant.”

With a smile she engulfed his rod once more, sinking to its base with practiced ease. Russell’s head fell back on the pillow as his mother’s hot lips kissed his belly once more. Then a cool breeze assailed his slobbery prick as Margaret withdrew to speak once more.

“I’ve been thinking about Pam and Cindy,” she said, her voice thoughtful. Between soft licks along his bulging length, his Mom continued to talk. “I called them first thing to cancel our walk this morning. They were relieved, their boys seem to be coming down with something. Empty balls and lack of sleep, I bet!”

Russell snorted, shocked at her crude language, but not really surprised. His mom stuck out her tongue and carried on.

“So, where was I? Oh yes, did you know that they have a standing arrangement at the Motel Six in Erskine every Friday? For a little afternoon delight, you know? They have done since we all moved here. It’s rather sweet, I think. Well anyway, I thought that with a bit of planning that we could use that to work something out. You know, like a twofer? We could get your friends’ dicks wet that much sooner, don’t you think?”

A deep, soulful laugh escaped Russell’s mouth as his dreams began to come true for real.

He lay back on the pillow as he felt his mother’s cultured lips slip over the head of his penis once more. Unlike the night before, now she was taking her time. There was no anxiety, no hurry, no reason to rush. This time they were making love.

He sat up with a start, placing a gentle hand on his mom’s hair to show there was nothing wrong.

We’re not making love, Russ. Mom is making love to you and you’re doing fuck all. Her glorious body is lying there crying out for your attention. What the hell are you waiting for, man?

“Mom, can we sixty-nine, please? I’d love for you to sit on my face,” he asked.

Her answering giggle was muted as her throat rippled around his cock. She nodded her head, sending shivers up and down his spine. Embedded to the hilt as he was, her slimy esophagus was doing wonderful things to his sensitive glans. It was clear to Russell that his mom wanted him to eat her out, she just wasn’t going to help him.

As he moved across her body, the bedroom filled with nasty gurgling sounds. They were the type of noises that only a plumber should hear. But despite her struggles, Margaret kept her mouth on him the whole way. He had managed to roll himself up onto all fours, his knees now astride her head. Reaching forward he pulled her legs up onto the bed. He first spread open her soft, fluffy robe and then her succulent thighs.

Her meaty pussy was crying out for his attention as he dipped his head towards it. Like a burlesque tease however, he avoided her drooling slit. He kissed and nibbled and licked every inch of skin around it. His teeth closed on the meat of her sweet, inner thigh, pulling at the hallowed flesh he found there. Stretching further, his lips closed reverently on the soft mass of her luscious bottom. He trailed kisses from there across her thighs all the way up to her belly button.

All the while his mom squirmed beneath him. She was sucking and gobbling his throbbing penis with feverish intensity. A series of nasty, obscene sounds emanated from her throat as he toyed with her. Sounds of anguish and passion, of need and desire. He got close to her twitching, purple lips several times, but studiously avoided them. Margaret began to shift her hips and bottom, trying to find his face with her pulsating mound.

The guttural, gurgling sounds emanating from her throat became a mewling whine. When she stopped sucking on his cock altogether, Russell’s teasing relented. His lips met her swollen labial petals in a soft, soulful kiss.

Her gooey nectar was hot, but smooth on his lips, like sweet chili. He was more familiar with her tootsie roll now, on the outside at least. But he wanted to delve deeper, he wanted to explore her.

So, he wrapped his arms around her legs, his hands taking a firm grip on her bum. He lifted his mouth from her leaking treasure to announce, “Over we go, mom.” And with that, he rolled them over. Her gurgling squeal was music to his ears as she clung tightly to his back. In a moment he was lying underneath her, his face and neck smothered in hot, moist feminine flesh.

He felt a cool breeze on his dick as his mom’s throat reluctantly expelled his throbbing meat.

“Whoo, baby,” she cried, sitting up straight. “Give a girl a little warning next time. I’m an old woman remember.”

“Mmpf, mmpf, mmpf,” Russell replied as she ground her pulsing twat onto his lips and nose. By way of apology, he opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue, and went spelunking. His mom’s full weight was resting on his face now, and he marveled at how he had ever survived for so long without her there.

Margaret switched to mommy-mode for a moment, busy multitasking. Even as she struggled to shuck off her tangled robe her hips began to bump and grind on Russell’s talented tongue. When she was nude once more, she took hold of his flopping fuck-stick and began to gently stroke it. Deep between her thighs, her boy was buried in her to the tonsils.

You go, baby. Eat your momma, eat her good. Drink me dry, my love. Mmm.

Below her, Russell was becoming delirious. He was struggling to breathe, but more by choice than anything else. He adored the feeling of having his mom’s writhing butt plastered over his face. His tongue was delving deep into her hot, buttery cunt, seeking out the source of her dewy nectar.

He had tasted it the night before but not in the copious quantities she was producing now. Her cream wasn’t dripping into his mouth, it was pouring. His hands were roaming across the silky-smooth skin of her back. Without his conscious bidding, they slipped around her sides and cupped her breasts. His gentle squeeze brought a delighted cooing sound from her mouth.

But Russell wasn’t concerned with those lips at that moment. He was fully invested in her delicious genitalia, desperate to increase her burgeoning pleasure.

Then he was struck by a vivid memory from the night before. An image of his friend Devon, the enigmatic Mr. Blue, burst into his mind. A flashbulb instant when the two of them had stared awestruck at his mother’s secret hole.

It’s right here, kissing the tip of my nose. I have to see it, taste it… worship it.

With a tinge of regret, he released his mom’s supple breasts and coaxed her butt forward a little. She resisted for a moment before understanding blossomed.

“Ooh, baby,” she cried. “Not there. No. That’s too nasty, even for me.”

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Russell’s slippery tongue flashed out to poke and prod at her pristine pucker. There was no taste he thought. No smell. Just her. She was clean and fresh, and her twisted ring was as alluring as anything he could ever remember.

As the tip of his tongue speared her virgin hole, his mother went absolutely wild above him.

“Ooh, Russell,” she screamed. “What are you doing to me? That’s my asshole back there. Oh my god, it feels amazing. How? How are you doing that? Oh, baby, I’m gonna cum. Momma’s gonna cum for her boy. Her nasty butt-licking baby.”

Margaret’s free hand flew to her clit. Like a champion plate spinner, she somehow managed to keep it all together. She tugged on Russell’s prick, rubbed her clitoris, and squirmed all over his flailing tongue. Her efforts were soon rewarded with a howl from her son as a huge rope of greasy sperm erupted from his cock.

Her excitement at seeing his cum burst forth for the first time set off her own shattering orgasm. Boiling girl-cum splashed onto his neck and throat as her anus cinched his tongue. Her quivering quim contracted spastically as the waves of pleasure courses throughout her body. Finally, her head hung low as her breath came in great sucking gasps.

She raised a leg and swung herself from Russell’s shiny face. Pivoting she lay half atop her adoring son as he basked in the afterglow of his epic release.

“Morning, baby,” she whispered. “Welcome to the rest of our lives. I love you.”

Then she relaxed and with that she was asleep, her gentle snores the sexiest sound that Russell had ever heard. With a smile and a contented sigh, he repeated her final words and joined her in dreamland.

++++

He awoke a few hours later to find his mom grinding her hips atop his. She was lazily stirring her steamy insides with his rock-hard cock. Margaret smiled down at him and dropped her head down beside her son’s.

“Tell me, honey,” she began. “When did you first realize that you had the hots for your dear old mom?”

“It took some time,” Russell replied trying to gather his thoughts and concentrate. His mother’s delicious movements weren’t making it easy though. “It started at the gym when I began to coach the older ladies. They weren’t in great shape, but their personalities were such fun. They were confident in a way that younger girls just never are.

“I began to notice little, discrete parts of them first. You know, like the curve of an ear or a dimple here or the heft of a wobbling boob there. Individually I realized that they all still had some attractive features, even though I didn’t fancy any of them as a whole. In my head I started calling you ‘The Wrench.'”

“The Wrench?” Margaret squeaked, her eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t sound very nice. Why did you call me that?”

“Because, mother dearest,” Russell said with a broad smile, “every time I see you, my nuts tighten.”

With a delighted giggle, Margaret threw back her head and began to properly bump and grind upon her son in earnest. With a groan, Russell continued his explanation.

“Then Steve and Devon introduced me to MILF porn, and I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole.”

“MILF porn?” Margaret asked, “what’s that?”

“It stands for Mom I’d Like to… well you know,” Russell told her, suddenly shy.

“You mean I’m a MILF?” his mom demanded.

“You’re the MILF, Mom. My MILF,” Russell confirmed. “But it took some time for me to realize it. I started noticing that you had all the little bits that I like. Then I found a pornstar that looks a lot like you. She’s really pretty but nasty too, and her videos are all about her and her son. Her daughter too sometimes.”

“What’s her name, baby?” Margaret asked, intrigued.

“Djenni Djerkov, Mom. She pretends to be Russian, but it’s obvious that she’s from the States,” Russell admitted. He took a little breather as his mom was really starting to work his cock now. He used those seconds to gather his thoughts and to feel up his mom’s sweet ass a bit too.

“Anyway, I watched every one of her movies, over and over. Then, one day it hit me. That you were hotter, sexier, and prettier than she could ever be. I joined all the dots together, all the little pieces of you that turn me on. And I just knew that you were my perfect woman.”

“But still, baby, your mommy?’ Margaret asked. “I mean, a healthy young stud like you and a big ol’ tub of lard like me? It’s not right, it’s not natural, never mind the nasty, incestuous subtext.” At that last she ground onto him extra deep for a few strokes, grinning from ear to ear.

Russell swatted her playfully on the rump before replying. “I will not hear that word from your lips ever again, mother,” he said, his voice stern. “You’re my MILF, my perfect lady. If I do hear you describe yourself like that again I shall have to discipline you more strenuously.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun,” Margaret giggled. In a singsong voice she continued, “I’m fat, so fat, so very very very very fat. Yes, I’m fat fat fat fat fat.”

Russell laughed, shaking his head. Rather than slapping her again, he caressed her bottom sensuously. “In all seriousness Mom, I do want you to see someone about this. I’ll go with you, and we’ll get you well. You’re a stunning, beautiful woman, healthy and vital. You look ten years younger than you really are. I want you to see yourself the way I do.”

“Impaled on your big, fat cock you mean?” Margaret said with a chuckle. “Let me work on it, baby. Maybe if you keep the compliments coming, I’ll get over it all by myself.”

“OK, Mom,” Russell sighed. “Just promise me that you’ll try. And that you’ll keep… ooh, that you’ll keep doing that!”

“Hehe, that one’s reserved for the very naughtiest little boys,” Margaret cooed, slamming her body onto her son’s now. “Those naughty little boys who want to knock up their mommies. Are you a naughty motherfucker, Russell? Are you gonna cum inside me again? Do you think you might inseminate me? You know how I like my eggs, chef? Fertilized! Now fuck me, baby. Fuck your mommy good.”

Russell took his mother in his arms and rolled them both over until she lay supine below him. He reached down and hooked his arms behind her knees. Pushing forward he rolled her up, raising her butt almost off the bed. At the same time, he clambered to his feet, until he was crouching over her.

He had moved with a methodical grace, taking care not to hurt her. Also, he somehow ensured that his penis always remained embedded deep inside his mother. And now she was very much at his mercy. He could penetrate her balls deep now, his powerful thrusts supercharged by the force of gravity.

His mother squealed in surprise and delight. He had manhandled her like a rag doll and had taken complete control of her. And now he was pounding himself into her like no one ever had before. She was loving it, just as her son was loving her.

It only took a few more seconds of this brutal treatment for both of them to finally climax. Russell stabbed his lurching length as deep into her as he could. Joy, ecstasy, lust, and love were all rolled into one as they came together. Even as their cataclysmic orgasms washed over them, they cried out in unison…

“…I love you.”

++++

11:41 AM, 53 BPM, 2088 Kcal

A little later, as they lay under the covers, entwined in each other’s arms, Margaret spoke up.

“We need to make some plans, Russell. A lot of crazy things have happened, and we need to make sense of them. We need to make sure that we’re on the same page and heading in the same direction.”

“OK, Mom,” Russell replied, “let’s talk. Do you mind if I go first?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “I have fallen in love with you and want us to be together. But I was not honest with you, and we have ended up here because of my chicanery. I want you to know that I have never done anything like that before and I never will again.”

“You might have hurried me along a little, my love. But there were no Jedi mind tricks involved,” Margaret said through a languid smile. “I’d have got you into my bed sooner or later, somehow or other. I don’t know if Steve saw them last night but there are several sets of handcuffs in that safe!”

Russell gulped before a snorting giggle burst from his lips. Margaret joined him in laughter as he pulled her close in a warm cuddle.

“OK,” he said, “so we’re on the same page as far as our relationship goes. Forever?”

“Forever, darling,” Margaret replied.

“Then what are we going to do about Dad?” he asked.

“I had my lawyer draw up divorce papers six months ago,” she replied. “We were just waiting for some definitive proof of Mark’s cheating before serving them. And then my own little Machiavelli delivered it to me on a plate, didn’t you?

“I don’t think I could have him back here in this house with us, not now. I guess I should send the papers up to him with his ID and stuff. I’d almost like to see his face when they arrive at the jail. But I don’t really care enough anymore, truth be told.”

“As long as you’re sure, Mom,” Russell said, squeezing her hand. After a beat he continued, steeling himself to broach the next subject.

“You said a couple of things, Mom,” he began. “Last night and again this morning. About you and me and… a baby. Did you mean that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” Margaret said wistfully. “Your father insisted on getting a vasectomy right after you were born. I didn’t think anything of it as I had two beautiful babies to look after. But recently I have come to the conclusion that that’s when he began to look elsewhere. As you and June kept me busy growing up, I didn’t notice how distant he had become. Or how cold and lonely our bed was at night.

“And I’m getting older every day. June has gone from my life now, maybe forever. And you’re growing up too and I was so afraid of losing you as well. And my body knows the clock is ticking, so if I don’t do it soon, I won’t be able to. You can’t understand the maternal instinct that we females harbor, Russell. It’s imprinted across our DNA, it colors every aspect of our lives. Mine is calling out to me, demanding my attention. So yes, I do want a baby, darling… with you.”

“OK,’ her son replied, “it’s bargain time then. Agree to see a therapist about your body dysmorphia and I’ll do my very best to make a baby with you.”

“Deal,” said Margaret through a beaming grin.

For a few more moments they both lay there basking in a contented glow until Russell spoke up once more.

“Last one, Mom,” he said. “It’s time we talk about the elephant in the room… June. I want her back, I think we both need her back in our lives. Whatever it takes we can never be whole without her. I want to go and look for her, wherever she is. I want to bring her home to us.”