Sex Stories by Letter ] [ Sex Story of the Week ] [ Story Forums ] [ Adult Personals ]
Sex Toys & Videos ] [ More Sex Stories ] [ Submit Stories ] [ Links ] [ Webmasters ]
Archived Sex Stories



Title: Anything To Help Him
Keywords: mF, fF, mdom, nc, bond, humil, inc, mom, son, sister Author: Caesar
There was a young man from Dallas
Who had an exceptional phallus.
He couldn't find room
In any girl's womb
Without rubbing it first with Vitalis.

Anything To Help Him

by Caesar, copyright 2000-2002

$Revision: 1.4 $ $Date: 2002/04/15 14:07:21 $

I silently thanked whatever god looked out for teenage boys - thanking
that higher power from taking my son in that accident that stole half
a dozen other parents children. A school skiing trip - four days of
fun away from parents, with friends and only two teachers as chaperons
- it had turned into a nightmare. Dozens had been hurt, half of the
teens that had went on the trip had been of the fourteen found dead at
the scene. Their car having taken the brunt of the train crash.

Over a month ago and it still stunned me how close we had all come to
loosing my oldest child.

Greg, my husband had responded with rage - his lawyer filling suits
against every company involved in the trip and more specifically the

I couldn't care - my son was alive. That's all that matters!

Though I had to admit that he was certainly not the 'old' Steve that I
had sent on that fateful trip. More introspective... quiet, his eyes
missing nothing... somber - he had always been an emotional boy. Yet
he claimed he remembered nothing of the crash - I hoped it was true.
The pictures of the rescue workers pulling bodies out of that wreck
froze my heart and prayed, indeed, that my only son would never
remember that tragic time.

In the initial weeks after the accident at night I would hear him call
out in fear and would quickly come to his bedside - as any caring
parent should - I would lay in his bed stroking his brow till the
sweat and tremors subsided, his arms holding me fiercely with his face
against my bosom.

Then there was Carol, my daughter, two years younger than her brother Steve. And at first she seemed as sympathetic toward her older siblings anguish as I had hoped she would - but lately the young girl had to practically be forced to do anything for her brother. It
troubled me - but I had enough to worry about with Steve to attempt to
help the young woman with her problems. Whatever it was, she would
have to work it out on her own, it could not possibly be as enormous a
burden as my oldest child was going through?

The doctor had said he should stay home for the rest of this semester,
and the summer session following, so I resolved myself to care for
Steve during the next several months. I am his mother, the woman that
gave birth to him, I am the best chance he has for a full recovery.
It was not the scratches and mild concussion which were healed in a
matter of weeks but he seemed to have a darkness within him and he was
distant from everyone.

Everyone, that is, except me. He was different with me than with
anyone else - not the same little boy I had helped develop into a
young man though.

Steven wanted to be near me most of the day; helping me in the
kitchen, reading as I watched television, sitting and simply watching
me as I tidied the house. I took it as a great compliment actually,
that my mothering skills could somehow draw him out of whatever black
hole his mind had fallen into.

I knew I was the key to saving my son's soul - his black mood and
sullen heart was mine to save. Contrary to how much work and patience
was involved, I savoured our time together - reminiscent when my boy was but a toddler and still he looked at me as the most important
person in his world. That's was it felt like - and in truth I enjoyed

But Steve wasn't a little boy any more - I am embarrassed to admit
that my son often sported a bulge within his pants, especially when we
cuddled at night or when he watched me about the house.

Teenage boys will be boys right?

Hell - he hasn't even left the house for nearly two months, there was
only Carol and I that were the only female species in his life. Don't
think I haven't tried to get him out of the house - at first tiny
requests to go to the store with me, to having some of his friends
call and ask him out. Nothing got him out of the house. The closest
he got was going to the room above our garage - accessible only
through a tiny flight of stairs from our kitchen - and I gave him his
privacy there. Thankful that he was able to find some respite in his
troubled life.

Since the accident Steve rarely spoke - it came to the point that when
he did we all became quiet and hung upon his words. And he never
wasted phrases on mundane or irrelevant conversation. Rather, when he
spoke, it was for a purpose - even if that purpose was as simple as,
"pass the salt". Greg and I never even tried to correct his manners
or his almost-ordering phrase of speech - so thankful that he spoke at

I'm a good mother - never doubt that!

I do, I'm embarrassed to say. Two months and my son would not even
talk on the phone yet. I try with all my heart, doing everything my
son ordered/asks - knowing my patience and love will triumph.

When he told me to wear skirts 'only', it troubled me and I told him a
firm 'no' - what I wore was none of his business. For one, it was
still winter - I would rather wear long underwear beneath cotton pants
than skirts or dresses. Though I told him that I could not comply to
this request, I wore a long wool skirt with black leggings and a huge
hand knit sweater the next day. Nothing was said and he just looked
me up and down slowly and returned to his breakfast - that was three
weeks ago and I haven't worn pants since.

Its a small price to pay isn't it?

I mean my son is very disturbed, and for whatever reason he wanted his
mother to only wear skirts. Big deal right? I wore the skirts,
having to go out and purchase more leggings so I don't freeze, trying
not to wonder why he asked me to do this for him. I knew though, I
saw it in his eyes - you see, I have shapely firm legs that I was
quite proud of. Evidently Steven enjoyed them as well. What else
could it be?

Then, a few days after I started to wear skirts and dresses for my
son, he told me to stop wearing a bra!

Just like that, as we stood next to each other drying the dishes from
lunch. I was so stunned I didn't say anything - I could have ignored
the reasoning behind him telling me to wear skirts but how could I
ignore this request? After we finished our chore, I sat in the
bathroom and just stared at the floor not knowing what to do - I had
felt so guilty at being stern with his last request, something I had
ended up doing anyway. Yet when I came back down stairs that
afternoon my 'C' cup breasts swayed beneath my sweater as my son's
eyes were glued to my chest.

I ignored his undecipherable gaze for the rest of that day. And do
you want to know something else, I haven't worn a bra since.

Its unhealthy for a teenage boy to be couped up in the house with only
his mother and sister to look at. Yet, how could I deny him such a
small request - after all I'm a middle-aged woman... as soon as Steve
starts getting out of the house, there are much perkier breasts to
gaze at to be sure. I know the more frequent hugs I got from him now
were mostly selfishness on his part to feel my unbound boobs pressed
against his strong chest, but I gave them freely and willingly.

I loved my son and would do anything to help him.

Correction, I was doing 'anything'.

Wasn't I?

Over time Carol was becoming very introverted and irritable - I
guessed it to be jealously at my attention toward her brother. She
even started to get into trouble at school - but I let Greg discipline
her, my attention focused upon Steve. That girl was grounded more
than not these last weeks!

When Steve and I were alone I would attend to his every need; waiting
on him like some servant of old. Yet I was a devoted and loving
servant that understood that my patience and closeness would bring my
son back to us.

I actually was pleased when I discovered my son was masturbating. His
sheets and underwear would be infrequently crusty with old dried spots
that could only be his erotic emissions. That stopped after the
accident. A week after I stopped wearing a bra, I started to find the
familiar spots again. Perhaps I'm the crazy one - as I held up the
sheet with the tell-tale spot and laughed with happiness. My patience
was being rewarded, slowly my son was returning to a normal fifteen
year old.

But it wasn't like before - when I overheard him masturbating in his
room one afternoon, only a couple days after finding the sheet, it
took forever I'm embarrassed to admit. Yes, I stood outside his
closed door and listened, at first pleased and then worried when it
had to have been twenty minutes since I discovered him.

Then it was daily - and he was none too private about it either. He
would watch me with those brown wide eyes - my shapely legs revealed
and my swaying breasts beneath my clothing adding to his viewing
pleasure - he would then give me a long firm hug and finally simply
walk away. If I followed I would hear those tell-tale sounds from his

When he was finished, and would again descend to the main floor of our
home, he would order me to clean his bed. I kid you not - "Mom, my
bed needs cleaning." He would follow me up the stairs and I would
bundle up his soiled bed sheets and take them to the basement to wash.
You know what they were soiled with don't you? I was always
non-chalant with the whole thing though - a pleasant smile plastered
to my face. I did not want to startle him with my embarrassment or my
uneasy with the familiarity with my son's sexuality.


"Mom, clean that." I stole away from my thoughts and looked down to
see that he had dropped several spoonfuls of baked beans upon the
floor. Steve had done it purposely I knew, but I smiled that pleasant
patient smile and retrieved a towel, then got on hands and knees.

I didn't realize my bottom was facing him until after the floor was
clean - when I returned to the table to find him stroking his cock
above the bulge in his jeans. He wasn't wearing a smile, he hasn't
smiled since before the accident. As I sat stunned, he lifted up his
half eaten bun and dropped it on the floor and just glared at me.

Daring me.

I squatted down to get the bun, thankful that my son wouldn't get the
view had had earlier. Then he ordered, "Do it on your knees mom."
Never harshly said, never firm or threatening - his orders always
calmly spoken, but always strangely forceful.

He was my son - and I would do anything to help him. If giving
himself a thrill by looking at his mothers wide bottom - then so be

I got down on my hands and knees and searched out the crumbs, really
just something to do so as to say in that kneeling position longer,
knowing why I was really down here, and then stood back up to throw
away the refuse.

"Come here." I did, standing between his spread knees, my heart
pounding hard and fast - fear really. Bending over to give my son a
thrill was one thing but what if he...? Steve pressed his head
between my breasts and wrapped his arms about me in a firm hug. I
knew what was coming - and he simply released me and retreated to his
room. I cleaned up the kitchen anticipating his voice from behind me,
"Mom, go clean my bed."

This all sounds incredible to you doesn't it?

Well it does to me - I'm not so clueless that I didn't see it all in a
very sober light. Its only that I had no idea how to stop it without
harming my son's chances for rehabilitation - not knowing where to
draw the line with his requests. I do know that things were on the
threshold of going out of my control... yet isn't it worth it to save
your child?


Today, when I came out of my rooms private bathroom wearing my old ratty cloth robe and fuzzy slippers, I found Steven going through my
underwear drawer. He didn't even acknowledge that I had discovered
him, as he seemed to be sorting through my panties. I watched open
mouthed surprised as I realized my son was retrieving most of my
undergarments and throwing them on the top of the dresser. When my
drawer was mostly empty, he bundled the large pile up and turned to me
saying, "Only buy more of what I have left", he calmly walked out of
my room.

When I looked into my open drawer I found all of the bras had
disappeared and only the panties that were cut not for style but for
some erotic purpose. Mostly that meant high in the thigh lace
panties, and one thong. Not even enough for a weeks worth of wearing
- no wonder he told me I would need to go shopping.

I almost cried right then - not knowing what to do. The snowball was
rolling down that mountain and I knew it would soon be an avalanche.

Want to know something else? I didn't cry... and I did wear the
panties that my son had picked out for me. Most of which I haven't
worn in years and were at least two sizes too smile for my older wider
hips and ass.

When I came down stairs that same morning, I saw that there was a new
garbage bag near the back door with what could only be assumed to be
my undergarments. Steven ignored my questioning look and strode the
few feet to me and stuck both his hands behind me - and on my ass.

It wasn't an erotic touch, at least I don't think so, but a firm
exploration as my son confirmed that I wore what he had ordered. I
had. Even when he pulled his hands from me I could still feel them
against my body - the first hands to touch me like that since before I
married Greg. My son returned to the family room and ordered me to
make him a hot chocolate - I was thankful for the change of the thick mood that had prevailed since I had found him going through my drawers
and so, rushed to comply.


That very night I noticed something in Carol; the change in her
appearance. Sluttier I was stunned to realize! Though don't imagine
that this just happened today - as she has been dressing like this for
weeks, only her mother was too preoccupied to notice. After supper
when Steve went to his room to read and Greg was watching the news I
followed my daughter to her room.

That's when the shouting started. You know, how mothers and their
teenage daughters scrape - loud and vicious. When Greg came to
half-drag me from the room and then going into Carol's room and
slamming the door - it wasn't shouts I heard but crying as he spanked
her. The first time in years I assume.

I went to my room and cried.


In only a few days things were becoming even more serious; you see
Steve stopped closing his door when he masturbated each afternoon.
The first couple of times, after I realized he had left it open and
the obvious sounds drifted to the kitchen, I would steal down to the
basement to hide. Yet he soon was calling me to his room before he
even started, "Come here mother", or "Follow me mom".

Yes, I stood in his doorway and watched as my soon slowly masturbated.

I can't say it didn't affect me - never actually seeing a man jerk off
before - but I was scared more than excited. Or so I thought.

Steve would hold his dick in one hand and pour his sperm out into a
handful of a sheet before rolling off the bed and ordering, "Clean my
bed mom."

Don't think that lasted long though - within a week of that he was
jerking off in any room in the house, always with me standing watching
him. As there was rarely something to deposit his sperm into I had to
retrieve a towel to wash off his come wherever that life-giving liquid
ended up.

His eyes watching me the whole time.

"You forgot something mom." He nodded at the head of his dick and
after swallowing loudly I leaned over and brushed the towel over it
until his circumcised penis was again clean and dry. His hand groping
my ass above my clothing the whole time.


I was going crazy - both at these intimate demands upon me and by the
lack of release. What I mean is that Greg barely came to bed at
night, working long hours in his study - and when he did, would not
even touch me. While daily, I watched our son masturbate, cleaning
his ejaculate, and when I got to my own room I found I had to do
something I haven't done in years. I masturbated.

Steve knew this somehow - as one day, after I finished cleaning up his
come off the leather couch, he went to the kitchen and returned to
hand me a big fat carrot. I gave him a questioning look, too afraid
to breath since I could guess the answer. "Use this instead of your

I took it between thumb and forefinger like it was dirty, looking up
at him my smile long gone replaced with astonishment. I masturbated
at night, every night now, when Greg worked in the study.

My son wanted me to use the carrot? He saw my confusion, maybe my
fear. Did he care? "Go to your room and use it now." Steve picked
up the remote for the television and ignored me standing comically
above him.

Like a robot I strode to my room, disrobed, lay spread on my bed and
started to fuck myself with that long fat carrot. I orgasmed in less
than a minute.

When I returned to the room he sat in, he didn't even look up but
simply stated, "I'd like steak with mash potatoes and a big carrot for
supper tonight mom."

I did it - I did it all.

I was being humiliated. Somehow my motherly intentions were being
warped and the passion to help my son away from his troubles was
clouded by the fear of his next request. I have never acted this way
before - submitting silently to acts that I do not even do for my
husband - yet I found myself powerless to alter the course Steve

The next day he handed me a long fat cucumber after I finished
cleaning his sperm off the dining room table. "Return with it when
you are done." Less then ten minutes later I did and held it
embarrassed between us. He didn't even look up from reading the paper
but ordered, "Now lick it clean."

Do you know what is more troubling that realizing your being
humiliated - the knowledge that your enjoying it.

Each day he picked out some item for me to use as a phallus - always
after I watch him jerk off, and always having to clean it with my
tongue after I was done - till there were few long detachable objects
in the house that hadn't been inside my vagina. It rarely took three
minutes for me to orgasm - and god help me, I loved it. I was
orgasming more often than any other time in my life. My cunt was
getting stuffed by a different sized and shaped object every day - as
I pretended it was a different faceless man that my son had ordered me
to fuck as I frantically moved that object in and out of my body.

You read correctly, in a matter of weeks I had gone from a prim and
proper middle-aged mother of two to a submissive orgasm-hungry slut.

Then one day he handed me two small green bananas and never said a
word, but I stood over him a few minutes later and licked my cunt juices from one and the light anal grease from the other. That was
the first time I ever used my ass hole for pleasure - it would not be
the last.

The hugs between us continued - his wanting to be around me, or did I
now what to be around him - and his constant demands. His hands found
their way to my bottom whenever we were alone and near him.


The three feet of snow melted slowly and we found ourselves in a early
spring - Steven told me not to wear more leggings. Nervously, in case
Greg should notice, I was bare legged and wearing skirts each and
every day. Steven seemed pleased at my shapely firm legs but a
package arrived in the mail and my son simply handed it to me. It was
an exercise video - and each mid-morning after that I spent fifty
minutes bouncing and shaking and moving. Steven watched soberly every
time, surely admiring me in the outfit he had chosen, a skin-tight
leotard top and bottom and hid nothing to his eye.

My life is now very confusing - as an example. When I discovered that
my husband was having an affair I didn't even seem to care. Oh surely
I cried that first moment I found out - but after that I returned to
attending to my eldest child's every wish. I jerked off with a
vegetable, candle, pencil or whatever each day thinking only of some
invisible lover that my darling son had picked out for me. Steve
loved me it was obvious, though I cared less if Greg did during that
time, as he gave me more pleasure by allowing me to help him in the
last weeks than my husband has in the last several years.

Another example was Carol - she had gotten expelled from school twice
in the last couple of months and continued to wear revealing and
slutty clothing but she had calmed down somewhat at home. I attribute
the change to her and Steven spending private time together in the
loft above the garage each weekend. I cared not why or what they were
doing only what my son would order me next to do. Nothing else seemed
to matter.


The mid night dreams had stopped, I lay awake at night, my husband
snoring next to me, awaiting my child to cry out in the night in fear
so as his mother I could comfort him. Yes, I missed that closeness
with him. So I asked him one day and he just frowns at me and then
ordered, "Come to me tonight." And I do - where I find my naked son
waiting me. I curl up with him, his head upon my breast and one hand
grasping low down on my hip and slept with him for hours.

A couple of times a week he would order me to come to him, always to
lay in some position where I can feel his flaccid long penis pressing
against the cotton fabric of my nightgown and against my sensitive

Its about then I begin to wonder what I would do if my darling son
ordered me to do some sexual act on one of my nightly visits - to date
we have only cuddled and slept? What would I do if he orders me to
lift my nightgown and spread my legs for him? And I have heard of
people using their mouths - what if he wanted me to do that for him?

I was getting so obsessive that when I masturbated each afternoon I
began to think of these things as I plunged some object in and out of
my cunt. Imagining Steve ordering me to use my tongue to clean his
cock and not a cloth - or perhaps him telling me to strip and instead
of depositing a load of sperm on some object in our house, he using my
face and body as his deposit.

I was becoming obsessive, all for my desire to help him.

When I lay at night, him often positioning me on my side so he could
spoon our bodies behind me, I listened to his breathing knowing he had
fallen asleep. Knowing that on this evening I wasn't asked to do some
taboo object for my child - but in my deepest of hearts wondering....!


The summer came and our lives would never be the same.

I came down the black hall toward my son's room late one night, as
ordered, and stopped when I heard a noise from Carol's room. The
unmistakable sounds of sex - and I listened surprised at that sound
from my thirteen year old daughters room. But the voice I heard next
drove a stake into my soul, "Fucking slut... god yes... faster you
little bitch...!" It was Greg, my loving caring husband.

My descent into hell had started - that snowball had become an

Like a zombie I stroke to my sons room and let him position me away
from him, his body spooning my own, in what I now knew to be his
favourite position. But I couldn't stay quiet after discovering my
husbands incest relationship with our young teenage daughter - "Your
dad is in with Carol."

Steve didn't say anything so I continued, "I think they are having
sex." It hit me then that the affair I had discovered some time ago
was probably our daughter - I felt sick. How long has this been going

My son was pressed behind me, our bodies fitting perfectly together as
we have done numerous times before. Then I felt his penis, it was
hardening and pressing upwards into the crack of my ass until it
wedged between my fleshy cheeks.

"They fuck at least once per day." Another twist of that stake in my
soul at his somber words..

I began to sob while pressing my ass back against that half-hard cock
- confused, hurt, scared and horny at all the same time. This piece
of news didn't help - and it also showed that Steve knew about it.

Then it came - what I had imagined in my darkest of fantasies, what I
feared, what I hoped for, "Lift your gown mom." His prick pressing
rhythmically between my cheeks told me all I needed to know.

The tears stopped suddenly and my breathing did as well.

"Pardon honey?"

He didn't repeat it but began to gather up my skirt himself - roughly
- till it was bundled above my waist. Now his hard cock pressed into
the groove of bottom, the first intimate touch of his sex with my own
I was startled to realize.

His hands pushed my knees together and higher, almost to my chest as I
mumbled, "No Steven... no...?" Though it did not sound very
believable even to my ears.

Roughly his hand slipped down and he shoved two fingers into my, yes
I'm embarrassed to admit, wet cunt. It had begun when I had slipped
out of bed and was making my way to my sons - and really began to flow
when I felt his familiar penis press against me. A long sigh as I
breathed and gasped both with pleasure and fear.

He had used me for anything these last months, mostly as some type of
servant, but in my heart I wondered what it would be like to be used
sexually. Would this draw him out of his blackness? Would he return
to being the same teenager that had happily pilled into that bus to go
to the ski trip so many moons before if only I succumbed to this one
more thing? incest is a terrible thing right?

I was really wet, and his fingers made sloppy liquid sounds of my cunt as he frigged me. Then they disappeared and I felt him fumbling with
his cock, moving it so it was aimed perfectly toward my hungry wet

Now it was a strange time to think about it - but I felt extreme guilt. Years of marriage can not be eroded so quickly. Yes, my
husband was the worst type of slim - fucking his own daughter - but I
remembered how I honoured the vows I had taken with him so many years
before. They were about to be shattered by a long hard cock in my
very willing cunt - isn't that what Greg was doing to Carol a few feet
away in the other room?

"No! I can't do this to your dad!"

I felt the head of his penis at my quivering ready outer labia, I felt
them press in till the head of his fat cock had to be inside me and
god help me I forgot all the argument that I had mentally contested to
myself. I wanted to be used like this for my son... to help him!

Yet Steve stopped... and then withdrew that lovely strong hard teenage
prick from the entrance to my sexual valley. I sobbed loudly at the
loss - hating my weakness and my earlier words. But I knew it was
right - it was incest, it was cheating on my bastard husband... it was

I sobbed into a pillow, "Oh god ... no! I want to help you so much
darling... but I can' do this to your father, I can't cheat on

Then the two fingers returned to my sex and they began to pump in and
out of me - my anguish was forgotten in seconds as my passion built.
I came flooding my son's fingers with my spend - too exhausted and
pleased with my release to care about anything else and fell fast
asleep with my naked bottom pressed against my sons. Thankful that my
caring son had the decency to help diminish his mothers erotic energy
- I loved him so much then.


For some reason Steve wanted me to plant flowers beneath the northwest
corner of our house - a place that got little light. I did of course.
Just as the first stems broke the surface Steven found me in the
kitchen after supper one night and told me to go check on those same
flowers. He ignored my questions - it was night out, the sky nearly
black, the neighbourhood quiet. And he told me to leave the outside
lights off - for the same reason I followed everything else he
ordered, I did this, as ludicrous as it seemed at the time.

When I got outside it was not so crazy sounding - when standing before
my flower bed I could see perfectly into the lighted study where my
husband and daughter were.

Yes, you read correctly. I stood there in the dark and watched the
two of them in there. I've never witnessed two others in sexual
contact - and this first time had to be my husband and daughter. I
stood there watching Carol do something that I had never done for
Greg, namely suck his penis, but the young teen seemed rather expert
at doing it. They were both clothed, but she knelt before him on the
hardwood floor, and her head bobbed up and down on his white long
shaft. The glistening of her saliva bright in the room as I coldly
watched this intimate incestuous affair that I'm humiliated to admit,
was going on for months beneath my very eyes.

When I returned to the kitchen and Steve, I walked up to him and
coldly stated, "My marriage is a lie - I'll do anything you want
darling." I meant I was willing to fuck and suck for him - even
before my prick of husband if Steve so wanted. I would have dropped
right there and let my son fuck me in the kitchen if he wanted. Done
any humiliating disgusting thing that he may desire. Hadn't I enjoyed
everything I've had to do for Steve to date - I prayed I would enjoy
any outrageous thing he asked forever more.

I could not have been more surprised - as Steve nodded negatively and
left the room - nor more humiliated.

Twice more in that week I went out of the house to stand before my
flower bed when my daughter went in my husbands study - once for her
to suck him off yet again, and the last time she sat naked upon his
lap and rode him for a long sweaty fuck. Bastard.


Life couldn't get lower right?


That next Saturday afternoon, Carol came out of the door from the
stairs to the room above the garage, and my heart turned cold. Steve
came down a few minutes later and gave me a long cold gaze.

Somehow I knew they had been having sex. Perhaps it was the glow upon
my daughters skin, or that I never received the customary visual
disrobing from my own son when he came out of that room. Regardless,
they were fucking.

If I had been humiliated in acting out my son's every command, mostly
subservient with a few bordering on incest, it was worse now, after I
had practically begged for him to fuck me. Yes, after watching my
daughter fuck my husband the other day, I had gone to Steve and told
him coldly that I loved him and that I could think of nothing else but
having his cock inside my cunt. When he ordered me to go back to my
room and read the novel I had been working on, my voice had risen and
I actually dropped to my knees. That's when the begging started - I
promised anything, denying him nothing - only I wanted, no I needed to
fuck him.

He refused me - and of course he did, he had my slut daughter Carol to
fuck. Why fuck the old heifer if you got the young cow!

Had I been a fool? Have I fantasized about things that simply could
never be?

Of course I have.

I have somehow combined my motherly instincts to help my son with this
strange pleasure derived from doing what he has asked. Though I have
done all that I've asked, I do not actually remember him giving an
indication of his pleasure as a response. A smile would be wonderful,
as he hasn't sported one since before the accident - but even a simple
word or nod of satisfaction.

Carol was an attractive, though young, girl. breasts that had just
started to sprout a year before, but an innocent and pretty face that
had to be the most compelling reason the men in my family were 'doing
her'. Had she seduced them somehow? No, I deduced. In fact I
wondered if her participation in these taboo things were against her
will! Had she not screamed out in her rebellion at home and at school
- could that signify the time when she started an incestuous
relationship with either her father or brother? Had one of them raped
her - hurt my little girl?


Steve was in his room reading when I opened that old door to the
stairwell in the kitchen - the light dim and the stairs creaking as I
ascended. I found the small room above the garage in a disarray - but
one that I knew was how a teenage boy would leave his refuge if not
nagged to keep it tidy. There was an old fold out ratty bed here, a
stand with an old television and video recorder, books, torn blankets,
discarded junk food containers, old piled up boxes in the corner.

This is where Steve 'does' his sister I knew - on that dirty messy


I turned about and stared in fear at my son who stood merely a foot
behind me. His cold gaze impossible to read.

"The second box in the corner." He nodded with his chin toward the
far end of the room, beneath the only window in the loft.

It had a torn lid but I ripped it open and looked down in horror.
There within the cardboard box was Polaroid photographs, hundreds of
them. The top one was of my daughter with a dick in her mouth,
looking up at the camera.

"My god!"

My hands tore through the cardboard and the photos tumbled to the
dirty carpet half hidden by the refuse in the room. I knelt down and
started to look at dozens and dozens of photos of my little girl in
some very graphic sexual situations - the tears streaming down my

"Mother... look up here."

I looked toward my sons voice and was blinded when a flash went off -
he had used the Polaroid camera to catch this moment. The still
undeveloped photo was thrown on my lap, amongst the other pictures.

He left me there - sobbing loudly amongst evidence to my daughters own
humiliation - and returned downstairs. The photo of me kneeling in
the messy room holding a large handful of pictures slowly appearing.


Greg bolted up at the crash and I grasped his arm in fear - my
loathing of him quickly returning and I let him go nearly as quickly
as I had reached for him.

"There is someone downstairs."

It sounded like a window crashing near the back of the house

He stared to roll off the bed, "Close the door and if I'm not back in
five minutes call the police."

Normally I would have cried out for him to stay and we would call the
police together - but I could, yes even now, not gather enough resolve
to put my fear of a noise in the night above my disgust at my own
humiliations. Let him go downstairs - I will do as he asks, nothing

The five minutes passed and nothing. I waited five more before
calling the police.

In our suburb, crime was rare but the police took less than three
minutes before I saw the red and blue lights rotating through my
bedroom window. Someone was knocking downstairs but I was too scared
to go down - my husband could get it, he was down there.

Then firm voices, male and female... then another male. Static and
talking, as if on a radio. Then feet coming up the stairs... a knock.
"Hello - is anyone in there?"

I opened it to come face to face with a female officer holding a
flashlight next to her ear the light blinding me. Though I had enough
sight to notice that her hand gun was out of its holster. "Is there
anyone else in the house madam?"

"My son and daughter." I nodded to the two doors down the hallways.
She nodded and spoke something about 'civilians' into her microphone
on the opposite shoulder than the one with the flashlight.

Steve and Carol were lead into my room and the officer closed the door
and I heard several people searching through the house. Carol was
scared and I forgot our past differences and held her as Steve stood
coldly by the window and watched the commotion out the front of our


The funeral was less than a week from the break in - my husband was
buried with much pomp and circumstance. As I said, it was a small
community and we were friendly with many of our neighbours. Greg was
successful and well liked in his business affairs as well - and many
of those people come out in the rain to pay their respects.

There had to be nearly two hundred people out on that blustery summer

I sat silently wiping away the random tear - but inside I was just

Carol sat next to me sobbing into her tissues.

Steven was absent - even now refusing to leave the house.

I didn't even hear a word the priest spoke.


Steve stepped into the void left over in our home - taking over his
fathers study and more specifically his desk with a passion. Money
was not a problem, and Greg had a large insurance policy, but the
bills still needed to be paid. I had no care to deal with anything -
Steve merely assumed this role immediately after the funeral.

In some way its good to see him passionate about something - though
his heart was still heavy and he refuses to leave the house.

The weeks after the funeral I simply lay in bed and stared off into

These last months were too much for me to talk - too incredible to
seem real. Steve and Carol left me alone, with Carol bringing me food

They were lovers for that was proven beyond a doubt - and Steve has
stilled his orders to me since I had found the photos. As the hours
turned to days and then weeks I stilled my jealously, hiding it away
in some deep dark hole in my heart. Yes 'jealousy', for that is what
I realized was my largest grievance against discovering Carol and her
father... and then her brother. There was a passionate woman inside
me that wanted, no needed, to get out - for some reason I could not
just allow it out, but it had to be forced out. And I was afraid of
that ever happening, what it entailed. I was jealous of not being a
good enough mother to help my son, I was jealous of his attentions
focused toward his sister and not I.

Then there was the fact that with his attentions focused on his
sister, I could not help him out of his own black hole as I knew only
I could do.


Four weeks after the funeral Steve and Carol both came into my room,
Carol opening the curtains to let the afternoon sunlight in, and my
son simply standing at the foot of my bed. They both stood there
looking down at me with somber expressions that I could not read.

Steve then through an object down upon the bed just near my hip. I
look down and felt a horror grip my heart, it was a six inch black
dildo. I have been left alone these long painful weeks - why is he
doing this... now?

"Get naked mother."

I look to Carol for help but she only stared between her older brother and I, her face impossible to read.

I was the most surprised, to be sure, when my trembling hands pushed
the dirty duvet cover down to my feet. "Please no honey... not
here... not like this...?" My hands had trouble undoing the buttons
of my dirty cotton nightgown, but somehow, reluctantly it was

Both of my children watched silently as I pushed the fabric off my
shoulders and then wiggled it down my hips. I was naked of course,
laying there mere feet from my son and daughter.

Carol was licking her lips frequently and leaned against the foot
board, as if to get closer. Steve simply stood there and waited - as
if knowing I could never deny him.

Could I?

The object was firm and heavy in my hand, and I was surprised at how
wide it felt. Fatter than my husbands penis, though certainly smaller
than some of the objects I had been ordered to use in the past.

My ankles come up as my knees widen and raise - so that my heels
almost hit the back of my thighs. I'm already wet, the cool air
tickling my excited labia, expectant.

The long hard fake cock was dry and I bring it to my lips and force it
into my mouth. Carol gasps when I slide several inches of it into
past my lips and then I taste it - this phallus was not newly
purchased and had a strange taste upon it. I knew with a chill down
my spin that my daughter had used this within her body recently, and
though dried, still tasted of her erotic spend. Regardless I sucked and then licked generously, cleaning her from its slippery surface
while leaving an abundant amount of saliva upon it.

The head of the fake cock pressed against my vagina and both eyes
watched from a very intimate angle as it slipped into my body. Lord
help me but it filled me up deliciously and a loud lingering sigh
escaped from my lips.

It was like these last dreadful weeks had disappeared and I was back
to the scared submissive woman that hoped and feared a sexual request
from her son. When the base of that cock hit my outer hairy lips and
I left it sitting inside me like that - I knew a pleasure that I had
missed these last weeks. All my pain and worry had dissolved even as
I pulled that long thick cock from my body and started to plunge it in
and out rapidly.

My eyes closed and my body tensed as the seconds ticked away and I
felt the train of my orgasm fast approaching. When it exploded -
nothing else mattered, and I was truly happy. I screamed freely and
rolled about upon the bed, indifferent to anything but the pleasure
exploding from between my legs.

Minutes later when I opened my eyes and looked for my children, they
were gone.


Much of the darkness inside me was gone after that orgasm - Steve
began his orders for my servitude. I cleaned the house, washed the
dishes and made supper. I tended to his needs.

Though I silently wished for his more intimate needs, he never called
upon me. Rather it was no secret that his sister was used constantly.
Like months before when it was masturbating behind closed doors - he
was fucking his sister behind those same doors. In a few days the
door was open and I as hiding, doing the laundry in the basement
normally, as they fucked loudly in one of the bedrooms.

Then I was ordered to move all my belongings from my room, moving
Steve's in. We swapped bedrooms, all three of use taking a summer
afternoon to move the furniture and clothing. I never said a word -
it wasn't my place.

I began to see Carol in the act with her brother - a blow job usually,
or unplanned fuck - any wheres in the house. As had been the case
months before, I had to clean up after then.

The uniform of choice that my son had chosen for me was either
lingerie or nothing. That's right, I went about my home wearing
nothing most days.

Though, sometimes I got to wear lace panties, stockings or a chemise -
not like Carol. Her young firm body never wore a stitch within our


Our house had become Steve's home. Carol and I were mere objects
within it.

The best example for this was weeks before school was scheduled to
start. Carol was ordered to dismantle her bed and to dispose of
it... her clothing and other furniture had to come into my room.

My son's old room was pretty full with my queen-sized bed, and with
Carol's chest of drawers and our other items, it was getting downright
cramped in there.

A second decree soon followed that one - Carol and I were to sleep
together, nude. Sounds nasty right - but since then Carol has not
spent one night in my bed - as she sleeps with her brother every
night. Though we are now much more intimate with our persons - no
secrets could be hidden when you shared such a confining space with

For instance, Steve had returned to ordering me to use some object as
a tool for my masturbation sessions. Well my daughter always seemed
to be in proximity when this happened, often sitting at the foot of
our bed watching me fuck myself to an orgasm. While, other than the
initial order, Steve didn't seem to care less. Though one thing did
change - Carol now how to lick the objects I used, clean rather than
I. I took perverted pleasure in coating the phallus objects with as
much of my juice as I could.

Carol and I were not so different actually - we were mere pawns in my
son's life. I now understood that we had both gotten to where the
same destinations by different paths. Carol didn't want to be some
sexual plaything for her older brother - and it not been consensual.
The photos and threats enough, in the beginning, now it was the life
she knew.

My excuse was different - a part of me liked it. I liked it when I
saw my son's eyes look at my naked body up and down with a hungry gaze
- silently wishing he would bend me over a chair and fuck me hard and
fast as he did with Carol. Yet he never touched me.

The accident so many months before was to blame - this young man was
not the teenager that had gone to that school trip. Somewhere deep in
my heart I still wanted to help him, to get him to smile that sweet
heart-breaking smile as I could only remember in my imagination.


Somehow Steve had gotten the doctor to agree that he was not ready to
reenter his life yet - and thus he could stay home for the next
semester from school. Carol was heartbroken, I think she silently
thought things would return back to normal when Steve had to go out of
the house and be forced back to his school.

And if that was not enough, he had ordered me to pull Carol from her
school. The three of us were left in our own world in that house.
The only one of us going out was I - mostly for odds and ends, as the
food was now being delivered to our house. If it could be purchased
online, then I didn't leave the house, but there are small necessary
things I had to leave the home for.


"Steve are you busy darling?" He was in the study working on the
computer doing something. He nodded without looking at me. I strode
over to kneel upon the floor next to his chair. "Darling?"

Sighing he turned and looked down at me with those cold brown eyes.

"I... wanted to ask you something honey?" He simply starred and
waited - redundant words were not his way. "Why you never... why you
and I don't... sleep together?"

He sighed again and I felt strangely like a small child interrupting
her father, "Do you need to get fucked mother?"

I was kneeling on the floor wearing lace panties with stockings and
garters - all white. I felt rather sexy and rather than shove another
object into my cunt this afternoon, I wanted to feel a man-cock inside
me. I wanted Steve to fuck me.

"Yes darling, I do." A wide expectant smile spread on my face -
hoping for what I've never had before.

"Living room, on your hands and knees." I rushed out of the study to
comply. I was so happy right then, Steve was going to fuck me. And
in my state, what a better way to say you love and care for someone?
My fragile mind wondering if I could cure him simply with his body
inside my own.

There I knelt on the thick carpet, my ass high in the air and my
juices running past my panties to soil my inner thighs to collect at
the top of my stocking. My nipples hard and aching, rubbing along the
carpet and I knew it would not take much for my son to pleasure me.

Then Carol came in and my happiness disappeared when I saw what she
wore about her waist.

My son, with his travels on the Internet and with my credit card, had
been buying plenty of things these last weeks. Well my daughter came
into the room wearing nothing but a wide leather belt with an obscene
eight inch cock sticking out of it. It appeared that my daughter had
sported a long hard cock and I knew with dread its destination.

There wasn't any preliminaries, she simply came and knelt behind me,
her hand squeezing the beast between her legs. Then it was against my
cunt and then moving inwards.

Carol grasped my soft hips in her tiny hands and began to move her
body in an aggressive manner, much like her brother did with her. My
daughter fucked me hard and fast. And though disappointed and
disgusted, I found the pleasure vastly superior to fucking myself with
some fake dick.

Steve came in the room just then, drinking a beer, and sat to watch
the show. The only thing he said was, "Pinch her nipples." Those
tiny hands came around and slipped beneath me to find the fat hard
nipple - she squeezed them roughly.

I loved it.


My masturbation sessions disappeared and it became a torrid hour of
incestuous coupling with my daughter. At first her plunging some
dildo or vibrator in my cunt or ass while I wiggled about in orgasm.
Then she started to lick me - and let me tell you, when a forty
year-old woman feels a tongue in her cunt for the first time, its not
small thing. I loved it. Carol loved it.

Steve stopped watching us after the second week, but things got even
more passionate between Carol and I. I ate a woman out for the first
time, enjoying the taste upon my lips greatly. I rimmed a tiny hard
ass hole and was pleased when Carol orgasmed clenching my tongue
within her. We sixty-nined whenever we could. She loved my large fat
breasts, I loved her tight little ass.

I tasted my son's spend very often within or upon my daughter -
savouring that new experience. Wishing to taste it from the source.

Days turned to weeks and winter was already back.


Carol and I were a pair of humiliated subjugated toys for Steve's
pleasure. I took it in stride better than Carol I learnt. She began
to take me into her confidence - our incestuous couple having helped
our relationship greatly.

It seems that days after Steve's accident that he had come to her room
and ordered her to disrobe for him - taking pictures of the scene. A
couple days later, to masturbate for him - which she had to fake an
orgasm. It seems my daughter never had an orgasm of her own until I
first licked her clitoris - much to my surprise. Then came the oral
sex, as she was ordered to suck her brother - then when the inevitable
seemed to come, Steve surprised her and ordered her to seduce her
father. It wasn't difficult, be bad, get a spanking and then show her
daddy her red naked ass and then suck the old mans hard cock. Her
father had taken her virginity soon after that.

Carol did anything her brother told her too - but she didn't enjoy it
as I did. There was jealously and anger from her toward me until she
and I started... well started to have sex. As well she felt Steve
cared more for me than he did her - though I doubted this.

Then she said something that chilled me to the bone - "I think Steve
killed dad."


It all made a weird sort of sense. Greg was an obstacle for Steve to
dominant this household. Things could never be as they were now if
not for the death of my husband. And besides, the police never solved
the murder - claiming Greg had interrupted the early stages of a

I looked at my son differently after that - and thought it even
possible that this young man who was so different than my son of a
year ago could have killed his father.


The daily working out the frequent sexual encounters with my daughter were taking their toll - my body was hardening. And with my frequent
orgasms, by my loving daughter, I was sexually sated for the first and
only time in my life. It left me to contemplate other things in my
life - like submitting to Steve and seeing how he truly treated us.

Carol was an object - he barely acknowledged her existence, if you did
not count the frequent use of her body for his sexual release. It was
me that his eyes watched, that he only gave evidence of my existence
not his sisters. Its as Carol had whispered, that Steve only noticed

Then one day after Carol was finished giving her brother a blow job
just before supper, she licking her lips and looking at the floor as
so not to anger her brother. I came up to him and asked pointedly, "I
think it is time that you and I fuck Steve."

He looked up with an arched eyebrow and asked, "Are you sure mother?"

"Yes." But I wasn't - in fact the opposite. I was sure I didn't want
too. It was wrong it was incest. I have seen his cock and seen its
used in many ways this last year - I felt disgust at the thought of it
being inside me. Yet it wasn't fair that my daughter was the outlet
for his desire of me - I loved her greatly and knew she detested her
brothers advances. In essence, inside, I was changing. My daughters
tongue had seen to that.

Steve looked at me for a long minute then he nodded. I wasn't to
assume anything this time - like he had tricked me with having Carol
fuck me with that strap-on dildo months before. "What about dad?"

What about him? "Your father has passed away." And then I knew what
he wanted me to say, "I don't belong to him any more."

Then something happened that I used to pray for, something that I knew
would be the proof that my son was on the road to emotional freedom
from that terrible accident so long ago... Steve smiled.

Instead of pleasure I only felt dread.


The day was set a week after I asked him, and it was the first time
that Carol was not her brothers companion at night and we enjoyed a
bawdy nighttime together.

My son purchased lingerie for the occasion, lace and white. Then he
purchased several scarfs, also white and silk, but their use puzzling.
Carol was ordered to clean out the loft - removing everything and
putting her old bed up there. White silk curtains hung over
everything. I was told to only pamper myself, baths and massages by
my daughter. I was forbidden housework. I was forbidden my daughters
cunt, though she spent hours with her tongue in mine that week.

With his attentions driven away from Carol, she had become happier
about her immediate surroundings but fearful for me. Though I have no
idea what she feared, I don't think she did either - my daughter had a
heightened sixth sense I have learnt.

The day did come and my day was well laid out by my son.

I woke that morning and Carol bathed me in the bathtub for a full
hour, scrubbing every inch of my body clean. Then she spent a long
time drying me carefully before applying moisturizing lotion. I was
then allowed some amount of food and then lead up to the loft.

There I was left alone for hours - with an order to dress. The
lingerie laid out upon the bed.

The loft had been transformed by my daughter into some kind of harem
dream of old - with large pillows and hanging curtains, a mattress
upon the floor hidden by several duvet's - all white. I lay anxious
and nervous for my son to arrive.

Hours went by until I heard the creak of the stairs and my son was
suddenly there. He stood naked and powerful looking, his gaze staring
down at his near-naked mother with a famished hunger.

"Come to me mother."

Steve had some strange idea how this should all play out and he was
acting like this loft was where he could act as a Pasha with a slave
girl. So I played along - I stood up and giggled as I ran across the
tiny room upon my stocking covered toes.

I slammed into his chest and we wrapped our arms about the other - his
hands grasping my wide buttocks as his lips found my own. His tongue
found mine for the first time and his lips smashed into mine - the
skill of the kiss lacking.

Gone was my longing for this young man, those incestuous fantasies
driven away by the reality of our lives. If my son had kissed me this
way ten months before I would have swooned and my sex would have
flowed - but now the trembling in my knees was nothing but disgust.

He pushed me away from him to stand there looking me over. "Sexy

"Thank you darling." Though I could care less for his compliment.

"Turn around."

I did slowly, pausing with my back to him to give him a view of my
ass. It was the same ass that his sister loved to paw, kiss, lick,
spank and fondle. It was the ass that his father never even noticed,
except to brag to his buddies about. It was the ass that was one of
my prime erogenous zones and possibly my best asset after my legs.

When I again faced him, I found his penis was hard and thrust out from
his body. I put on a tiny surprised look and dropped to my knees
before him, "For me lover?" I didn't wait for an answer, even if he
had one, and licked the drop of pre-come from its down. A shiver ran
through my son's body - he was enjoying this.

As my lips wrapped about the first cock that I've ever held between my
lips, it began to jerk and spit out its contents. Come shot into my
mouth and though I tried to hold it into my lips, it slipped out and I
felt the splats upon the skin on my lower face.

Steve was looking down, gasping for air, his lips smiling though his
eyes cold.

It wasn't so long ago that all I wished for was for him to smile, that
everything would be better if my son smiled as he did so long ago.
But now it only scared me, and I hated that look upon him.

"Over on the cushions mom." I crawled to the mattress, pilled high
with cushions and lay back with legs spread wide and began to use a
finger to clean my face, the come eventually finding its way to my
mouth. Though it was the first cock in my mouth, as short as it had
been, it was not the first time I've tasted my son's ejaculate - Carol
had sported litres of it upon and in her body.

When my face was relatively clean, though felt slick with my saliva,
Steve ordered, "Play with yourself mom."

"I would love too honey." I would too - anything to stay him from
touching me.

One hand grasped my large breast and gently fondled the wide nipple,
while the other hand slipped past my soft stomach to slip into the
forest of my pussy. I was not wet, and pretended I was highly aroused
when I found my clit. I began a slow masturbation session which was
quickly interrupted when my son ordered, "Play with your ass hole slut." I didn't care for his new term of endearment but I removed the
hand from my breast and slipped it over a hip and across my buttocks,
the index finger finding my anus. I began to finger both holes
rapidly, my sex finally getting wet enough so as the motion did not

Steve stood before me holding his newly hard cock and watching his
mother follow his directions.

"On your knees woman." I rolled over, gasping for breath and had to
dig my head onto a pillow so as to continue with both hands between my
legs. I was vicious with both holes - isn't that what Steve wanted,
what he liked?

Then I felt him roughly pull both hands from my body and fling them
behind me - he quickly bound my wrists together with a white silk
scarf. "Darling?"

Steve knelt behind me and I felt the head of his cock touch my anus
and fear rolled through me. "I know how much you want this slut! I
saw you looking at me... wanting me... wishing dad was gone so you
could have me!" The most words all at once than he has spoken in

It pressed against my sphincter slowly entering into my rectum. Though
I was a virgin back there, that part of my anatomy was a pleasurable
focus point for toys that my daughter or I may use, so that my body
was accustomed to a long hard object pressing into it.

When he was seated fully, his five inch cock began to move back and
forth as he began to roughly fuck his mothers ass hole. He started to
gasp, "bitch", over and over. Then he began to spank me and the sting
stole what little physical pleasure I was receiving and all that was
left was a painful intrusion into my person - though I had little
doubt he would last long.

I could not contain myself and cried out in pain, hoping he took the
screams as pleasure. He did. "You like that huh bitch?" He roughly
grabbed the back of my head by the hair and yanked it backwards, I
screamed out in pain yet again. I wondered if he was tearing my ass
hole with his assault.

Deep inside me I felt it before I realized what it was, the warm
spurts of his ejaculate. He came a second time within ten minutes,
his penis jerking against my anal ring painfully even as he started to
deflate quickly.

Soon he lay next to my still-kneeling form, "There you go mom - I've
properly fucked you. Did you like that?"

I had to turn my head toward him and saw that he sported a wide
pleased smile, I wondered if my disgust was hidden from my own.

"Unbind my hands lover and I'll show you how much I enjoyed it?" I
forced a soft sexy smile toward my only son.

I could see him contemplating my request and patiently held my breath.
The binding was too tight and I could no longer feel my hands, I would
do anything this little prick wanted if only he saved my hands from
further torture.

But some hidden agenda was to be played out and he nodded negatively,
his smile wide.


I lay for endless hours, wrists bound together, ankles together - and
then another scarf attaching the two behind my back. My knees were
bent fully, so that my calves with against my thighs, another silk
scarf was wrapped about holding each leg in that position. A scarf
was wrapped about my head, so that I was blinded. I could no longer
feel most of my legs or my lower arms.

I had cried out pleading to be let go at first, probably for the first
hour or two, but nothing.

Then Steve had returned, the only words, "Having fun slut?" A fat
vibrator was forced into my dry vagina another into my ass - both were
turned on and then he left. The batteries, thankfully, died out
within an hour of that visit.

Then both my son and my daughter had come to the loft and my daughter had spoon-feed me some gruel, not saying a word but I could hear her

It had to be dark, nighttime when Steve and Carol finally returned.
"Clean up my wife and have her come to my room." He disappeared.


Carol was crying, her face puffy by her grief, as she unbound me. I
could not move my arms or legs and she lay next to me and massaged
them slowly. I had soiled myself several times in the last hours and
Carol gave me a sponge-bath silently. She as too afraid to speak but
I wasn't - I was angry. "Steve is fucking nuts."

She only nodded.

"What... what has he done to you darling?"

She sniffed as she cleaned my dead legs.

"Tell me!" I wasn't angry but stared for her, though it must
certainly have come out with a parental sound.

"I'm being auctioned off." It was barely a whisper.

What? "Pardon?"

"I have to perform for the camera as people auction me."

I didn't understand, what camera? "On the Internet?" She nodded
affirmatively. "Auctioned for what? What did you have to perform

"Steve told me I'm no longer needed, that since you were now his wife I was a wasteful 'cunt'. I have been doing things in front of the
camera for hours.

I looked my daughters naked body over, I saw the welts and bruises I
could also smell the scent of her skin and of rubber.

"There were hundreds of people placing bets at first; but now there
are only two. Tomorrow Steve says I'm going to leave here and go to
my new 'master'."

The bastard.


He was naked and hard in his bedroom, watching television. A porn
movie actually - older voluptuous babe getting her ass fucked by some
young thin hunk. He put it on mute when I came in, but the images
continued to scroll by in my peripheral vision.

"How do you want me darling?"

Steve was smiling.

"Come and sit on my cock mother... while I watch the show." I climbed
up the bed and squatted over his lap, my sex was dry but I could care
less at that moment, I wanted the pain to remind me of how wrong this
was that I had desired this months before and this was what my desires
had amounted too. I sunk down painfully on his pole.

"Give me a good ride mom." He was pinching a nipple painfully with
one hand and fondling the remote control with the other. I bounced
rapidly up and down his cock. While my son only had eyes for the


He slept behind me, his soft tired cock wedged between the cheeks of
my ass and one hand over my torso grasping one of my breasts.

I couldn't sleep - hating myself, hating my life, hating what I had
been and now what I had become. I had found pleasure and sanity in
the incestuous arms of my daughter but found insanity with my son
inside me. He seemed to find pleasure in his inexperienced and rough
movements with me, and with his sister I soberly remembered. He
wanted to leave bruises and scrapes upon my skin. He wanted to hear
me hiss in pain. He cared less for my pleasure.

He woke up in the middle of the night and he simply shoved my head
down his body and while he half-slept, I sucked him to hardness and
then to orgasm. Not missing a drop this time. He slept soundly even
before his soft member left my mouth. I looked up in the dimly light
room and hated the sight of my son.

At the moment the door to the room silently opened and a small breeze
told me of my daughters entrance. Gently she guided me from the room
and back to our own - where she lay me down and brought me to
pleasurable orgasm with only her tongue. Then she inverted herself
and be munched on each other till we exploded in unison.

In each others arms she put her lips to my ears and whispered, "Will
you stay here in bed till morning mommy?"

Steve wanted me in his bed tonight, told me he wanted to wake up with
his cock in my cunt or mouth when the sun rose. In truth, I may hate
him but I was scared of him.

I mistook the reason for her question, "I'll go back just before the
sun comes up." She kissed me long and passionately.

The third orgasm took a long while but it helped me finally to drift


I did wake up before the sun - but found that my limbs were tied to
the posts of the bed. Carol was no where to be seen.

A sound downstairs caused me to start - then I saw the familiar red and blue lights rotating through the room.


The house finally sold - it held too many memories.

Carol had bound me after giving me exquisite pleasure that evening,
her way of saying goodbye, much gentler bounds than her brother had
used, and then stole to her brothers room and stabbed him repeatedly.
She called the police and then lay next to her brother and ripped open
her wrists.

The police report stated that there was so much blood that it had been
a ghastly scene.

It all came out with the investigation - my son's strange dominating
behaviour after the accident, killing his own father was easy to prove
when you knew what evidence to look for, my subjugation by my own son.

It was all over and I wept long and hard for my children - mostly for

I had failed.

In the end, it had been Carol who had the strength to help her
brother, to do anything to help him.



Sex stories by alphabet: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z


© 2003 Sex Stories Archive. All rights reserved.