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Title: Easy Catch Almost Too Easy
Keywords: mF, inc, mom, son, mdom, sm
Author: Caesar

I'd rather have fingers than toes,
I'd rather have ears than a nose,
And a happy erection
Brought just to perfection
Makes me terribly sad when it goes.

Easy Catch

by Caesar, copyright 2003

$Revision: 1.1 $ $Date: 2003/01/13 06:08:50 $

The reason James did it was not for profit or for fame - he did it out
of laziness and power. Besides it had worked in the past, with other
girls that he had seen a weakness, a potential, within. James had
used this ability of his, to ensnare and then enslave a woman until he
tired of her.

It started, strangely enough, by witnessing his father's treatment of
his mother in his earliest memories. In his verbal, and often
physical, abuse of her - of her complete submission and even anxious

Years later, James had fallen in lust over an attractive girl in his
class and had the inevitable humiliating rejection that many teens
face. Yet this taught him another lesson and the next girl he
approached was the quiet one - befriending and learning some of that
she feared and some of what she loved, he used this against her to
great success, breaking down her defences with his emotional attacks.

Though not a popular boy, he was one of the first of his peers to
loose his virginity - though none even knew it. By the time that
James graduated he had a stable of girls that he used at his
discretion - sexually or otherwise. They, having been truly
manipulated by a proved expert, practically worshipped the tall
plain-looking young man.

Up to this point in James' life, I could have written several stories about his conquests but it was one particular that stands out from the
others. One that truly states how cold a person James can be, how
much he craved the power of holding a weaker person at his whim. Yet
this story also reveals how the manipulator can also become trapped -
so beware!

Strangely enough it was a torn nylon that caused Jame's to take a
brief second and truly look at his mother.

Taking the shop truck, he had rushed home to find his father - he
having come home from the garage, which he owned and operated, for
lunch - seated in the living room wearing his traditional sneering
smirk and a half-drained beer in one hand. His greasy trousers
though, was open at the top so that his old man's underwear was
plainly seen.

Just at that second his mother enters the room, silently, carrying a
plate with a fat sandwich upon it. Both parents look at there son
surprised before the old man chuckles, "A few seconds earlier James
and you'd have seen your skanky old mom in action!" He laughed hugely
at his own joke, while Jame's mother, Teresa, did not even seem to
hear him.

After that comment, James did, indeed, notice that his mothers hair
was looking rather messy and her skirt rather wrinkled. She handed
her husband his sandwich and then started to retreat from the room.
Her husbands parting words, "Ugly old bitch!"

Nothing out of sorts - at least for this household.

It was at this point in time that James noticed that his mothers
tanned nylons had a very wide split up the back of her leg, from her
ankle to the hem of her skirt. Perhaps it was the white of her pale
flesh or the way she ignored the gash in her nylon and continued to
move through her day as if it did not exist - but he felt the rush of
adrenaline that comes when he finds a 'mark', a target for his evil

What could be better than a nice juicy cunt right here at home?


So it was the next Friday night that Jame's stayed home - something he
had not done for a very long while. You see, the old man was out
bowling with some buddies and his mother was alone. It was the only
night that his father never failed to not come home before midnight.

Normally, this was Teresa's night alone - usually curled up on the
couch reading romance novels. Which she hid from her husband, else he
would throw the books into the trash and yell at her for being a
flighty whore - one of his latest terms of endearment for his wife of
21 years. Yet she found that her son was staying home, sitting next
to her on the couch watching television. She was finding it hard to
read her novel and was nervous that James may tell her husband of this
Friday night activity.

There was something else that caused her to be a little nervous - her
son kept looking at her, his eyes lingering upon her for seconds at a
time. It was downright discerning, since he had barely even noticed
her since he was out of diapers.

Finally, James muted the television and turned toward his mother whom
was trying hard to ignore him. "Mom? Is it true you and dad had sex
the other day?"

Hiding behind the pages of her book, the question stunned the woman
and she was not sure how to answer.

But James was not waiting for an answer, that humiliation that was her
marriage quickly thrusting a dagger into her heart, "I mean, the way
he treats you I would think he doesn't even want to touch you?"

Her hands, with the book, fell to her lap and she looked upon her son
in silence as she searched for an answer. He was no longer a
teenager, just three years from high school and Teresa knew her son
was knowledgeable in the ways of girls. Finally words came to her, "We
are married James." To her, that answered everything - it was the
Holy Grail of responses.

Yet he was not to be deterred, "But you guys don't fuck very often do

She barked out loudly, "James!" Mostly at the use of the word 'fuck',
which she tried to keep some type of propriety in her home - at least
with her son. Yet, she also did it to hide her embarrassment, as her
son's words rang true.

Teresa's husband rarely ever touched her - the lunchtime coupling
earlier in the week had been the first time in nearly seven months.
And do you want to know the reason that Teresa had been so 'blessed'
by her husband, as he liked to call it, was that she had received a
monetary grant from her family and had made the mistake of telling her
husband that fateful morning. He had rushed home, dropped into his
favourite leather chair and told his wife to act like the whore she is
and suck him. When he was hard, after a lengthy amount of work on her
part actually, he had ordered her to get her old fat ass up and fuck
him properly. As she started to straddle her husbands lap, facing
him, he had made a disgusted look and told his wife to turn the other
way while he fucked her so that her ugly face won't scare his hard-on
away. He fucked her while drinking his beer, shot a load up inside
her and then grunted something about making a sandwich. When he went
back to work with their son that day, he had her grant check in his
back pocket with her authorization signature upon it. That was the
last she had seen of it.

James softened his voice - "Sorry mom... its just that I don't
understand him!"

That stilled her anger and she could not disconcert what her son did
not understand about his father. Finally she had to ask, "What don't
you understand James?" She had tried to use a maternal stern voice,
as it seemed appropriate, but was unsuccessful. Teresa had never been
a good mother, never been able to take control of her son, let alone
of her own home.

"Its nothing mom." He turned the sound back on the television
effectively ending the conversation. After contemplating her son's
words for several minutes brought her book back up but for the life of
her could not concentrate enough to read a single sentence.

Though she wanted to ask James what he did not understand about his
father, again, she could not find the words as she felt a spark within
her at what she unconsciously hoped was the answer. Instead she
dropped her book and asked loudly, over the sound of the television
program, "Why are you not out on a date honey?" Her son had a
constant flow of women in his life, often disappearing for most of the
weekend with one of a half dozen that she knew by name.

James muted the television and turned to his mother again, "Because I
wanted to spend more time with you."

The answer took Teresa by surprise and she starred into her son's eyes
for a lengthy amount of time - trying to see if he was attempting to
be malicious, as she knew he had some of his father in him. Yet she
could not read him.

Finally, she echoed, "You wanted to spend more time with me?"

He laughed lightly, "Yea, is that a crime or something?"

Teresa frowned, trying to consider what her son was trying to get.
"No, its not a crime. It is just that you were never interested in
what went on in this house?"

Her son turned serious for a second and hung his head, as if he was
ashamed, "Your right mom - but that is going to change starting

Now she was truly confused, "Change how?"

James caught his mothers eye yet again, "You just don't understand do
you mom?"

She nodded her head negatively.

His hand reached out, and Teresa flinched when she mistook her son's
intentions, and gently took one of her own in his grasp. It was an
alien touch to her - gentle and understanding. "I love you mom and I
can not stand how he treats you as he does."

She felt as if she was drunk and heard herself ask, "Treats me?"
Teresa kept her son's gaze even though her eyes started to water up.

James shrugged and withdrew his hand, "I may not be able to stop how
he treats you mom, only you can do that, but I can treat you the way
you should be."

Again that small voice, "Should be?" Only through great will power
did she not break down and sob - she had suppressed her emotions for
so many years that the admission that someone else may sympathize with
her predicament caused a small rift in her hard inner shell.

He smiled softly, "Like the beautiful woman that you are mother."

James could see the battle within his mother and though he may not
understand it he knew it was how his wars are won.

He turned of the television and then suddenly stood, "I'm going up to
my room to read mom. But first, I'll draw you a hot bath and light a
candle - why don't you read your book up there?"

Without even waiting for an answer James withdrew into the darkness of
the night, a triumphant smile upon his face and he knew this round
went to him.


Over the next weeks Friday's were their time, mother and son's. They
would sit at the table or curled up at either end of the large couch
and simply talk. Well, Teresa talked and James asked the questions.
He asked questions that may surprise some people - what is your
favourite colour, white, what is your favourite time of year, the fall,
as examples. After weeks of this, the questions went onto his mothers
childhood - asking all sorts of questions until Teresa anxiously
awaited each Friday night and felt a desire to open up completely with
her son, to tell him everything as best she could.

The fact that he was interested in her was amazing in itself, the fact
that he openly told her he loved her now was simply heart-altering.
Throughout her life Teresa had neither shown nor received any kind of
affection - this was true, most assuredly days after her marriage.
That is not to say that she did not crave love, but that it had never
been shown her and she felt she was not deserving nor privileged
enough to have any. Her son had grown up ignoring her and her
husband... well, her husband treated her better in the last years,
since he no longer forced her to have sex and stopped, for the most
part, hitting her. He said she was not worth the effort.

Don't mistake her resentment to have sex, Teresa was a very sexual
person. It was just that when with her husband, even on their
marriage night, he used her like a slab of meat. Her pleasure did not
matter and he loudly voiced his disgust at her performance, her
body... everything. The only sexual pleasure Teresa has found in her
life, was with her own hands and mind - and only in the last years as
the burning desire between her legs has heated up considerably
compared to her teen or twenties.

Teresa had a lot of questions for her son, but could not find the
courage to ask. Rather she glowed with a strange-unknown pleasure at
Jame's attentions toward her.

Then, one Friday long after they had sat down on the couch, James
gently asked, "Why do you always wear skirts mom?"

The question embarrassed her but she had long since resolved to be
honest and open with her son, wanting to please him and to keep these
very precious moments between them. "Your father told me long ago to
only ever wear dresses or skirts."

Strangely, at least to the parent, James nodded in agreement. "You do
have great legs mom."

She felt her face turning crimson with embarrassment, a feeling that
was rare in her emotionally-submissive life. "I do?" Teresa never
received any sort of compliments - especially about her body.

Still nodding, "Definitely!" Then he frowned lightly, "Maybe you
should wear jeans next week mom."

Rather weakly she found herself echoing her son's words yet again,

"Yea. After dad leaves, put on jeans for our talk - he will never

Teresa felt horrified in doing such a blatantly rebellious thing when
her son added, "But make sure they are just tight enough to show off
your great legs and waist mom!"

James broke out laughing while Teresa sat stunned by her son's
comments. After a short while she felt the bubble of her humour
escape from her lips and she laughed with her son though she had no
idea why.


"Turn around slowly mom."

Teresa had her eyes closed as she slowly turned about, feeling her
son's admiring gaze upon her.

James looked at the old, out of style, jeans that his mother wore and
suppressed a smirk. It was too easy he thought, she was like putty in
his experienced hands.

When she completed the turn, Teresa opened her eyes and asked, "May I
sit down now James?"

Without hesitation, "Of course mom! I'm sorry if I embarrassed you?"

She quickly slide into the hard wood chair across from her son, at the
kitchen table, thankful that her denim clad legs were hidden from her
son's eyes. Teresa tried to hide her embarrassment, "I think the
jeans are too tight?" They were - it had take some great effort to
get them buttoned up and she could still feel her son's eyes upon her
thighs and bottom.

James reached across the table and took one of his mothers hands in
his own and softly said, "They look fabulous on you mom." He withdrew
his hand and offhandedly stated, "If you want to change back into that
old skirt I don't mind mom?"

Teresa could hear the disappointment and coldness in her son's final
words and it scared her - she could not bare loosing their Friday
nights together. Rather hastily she replied, "No! I mean not if you
don't want me too honey?"

He caught her nervous and fearful eye, reading her to perfection and
paused just long enough until she felt as if she was loosing him.
"That would be great mom!" Her son's wide smile returned and he
changed tack, "Now tell me...", he looked up at the ceiling as if
thinking, "... what was the best Christmas gift you ever received?"

A small smile came to her face, genuinely happy to talk to her son
about anything he wanted. The fact that he wanted to know of her more
pleasant of memories only seemed to heighten her pleasure. She drew a
evergreen tree upon the table top with her index finger as she thought
back to her pre-teen years... then she started to tell it all.


The photo binders were covered in dust and for the fifth time since
she had brought out the box, she apologized. An ancient black binder
sat upon her denim covered thighs, open to pictures of a cute little
girl and a small dog.

"What was the dog's name mom?"

Teresa laughed lightly, her eyes glazed over as she thought back to
happier times. "Benji!"

James laughed with her, more so about the way things were proceeding
than about some mutt over thirty years ago.

At first the mother felt uncomfortable with the side of one full leg
pressed against her son - or seated so close. Yet, he seemed not to
even notice - indeed, but seemed to enjoy the closeness. In truth,
after being reassured of its innocence, the closeness felt good as
well, alien, but good.


"Its your favourite song mom!"

It was. It had been revealed weeks ago - a song from a different
life. Teresa did not feel comforted though, only saddened.

But then her son held out his arms and nodded for his mom to come to

She could not believe what James was proposing, it caused her face to
redden and her knees to weaken. She hadn't danced since her wedding -
and then it was with her new and very drunk husband. And she had
never danced to this song, a lengthy mushy song that was her private
romantic waltz in her later teen years and even into the early married years.

Teresa found herself walking into her sons arms and she felt him wrap
her arms about her torso. She suddenly felt relaxed and allowed her
body to melt into her son's taller hard chest, her face pressed
against his hard bosom so that she could hear the pounding of his

James smiled widely, feeling his mom almost collapse in his arms -
feeling her sigh deeply into his chest. His feet barely moved but his
arms soothed his mothers back slowly, almost in time to the music that
he could barely stand.

Women, he knew were so mushy - favourite song's, tales of teenage
heartache and happy memories of stupid family outings. True his
mother had fewer pleasant thoughts than his other conquests - those
few memories were only made stronger and sweeter to her consciousness.

Yet, the ease that she had opened herself to her son, as if she were
desperate for some affection, attention - reinforced his resolve to do
enslave his own mother to his whim.

Of the women and girls that James had controlled over the years, he
had found himself enjoying the most mature of his ladies. He had many
theories about this, part of their being familiar and unafraid of
their own bodies or even sex, as well as the pleasure of their
enjoying a younger man whom found them attractive and even the threat
of his leaving for a younger and prettier girl. Show a old girl some
attention and they seemed to fawn over you - James laughed to himself.

Abruptly the song ended and mother and son found themselves embraced in
the middle of the silent living room.

James was the first to break the embrace, but holding his mother at
arms length from him. While Teresa was looking up, doe-like, at her
only son.

"I love you mom."

"Thank you for this James." Her eyes started to water up and her chin

"Can I kiss you?"

Teresa felt nothing, stunned perhaps, and no answer was forthcoming
before her son leaned forward and down. She watched her son as his
lips pressed against her own and she became aware that her heart was
thumping so violently that it was almost painful.

Then he pulled back again, his hands dropping to his side, and
laughed lightly.

She watched him turn to the stereo still shocked, replaying that kiss
over and over in her head. Teresa told herself that it was only her
son's love that instigated the kiss, a kiss of a son for his ageing
mother. She convinced herself that she was acting stupid - they had
been having many weeks of pleasure, talking to each other - there was
nothing wrong with what had just happened.

What may puzzle even her son was that she had not been kissed in
years, her husband always said her lips were only good for one thing -
blowing dicks. That this first kiss in many years felt good - very
good. After she convinced herself that it was innocent she allowed the
pleasure to flow through her body like a warm wave of love.

James turned after removing the old forty-five from the rarely-used
record player and looked upon his mother - seeing a transformation
come over her. He had let his chaste kiss linger just a few second
longer than propriety would allow a mother and son and he saw her
pleasure written upon her face after the moments hesitation.

This was just too easy, he thought.


His mother held the gift wrapped box as if it was a bomb, "Honey?"

"Just open it mom!"

Teresa was not used to getting gifts of any kind, let alone when there
was no occasion. She allowed her years-long learnt trepidation
submerge beneath her child-like pleasure. A wide smile appeared upon
her face and her hands shook the box.

She laughed as she set it down on the kitchen counter and ripped it
rapidly open - seeing the clothing inside. "James!"

Teresa yanked it from the box and she saw that it was a stylish blue
denim. Her laugh was loud and happy.

"Though I like how sexy you look in your old jeans mom, I thought you
would like something newer?"

"Oh honey... its perfect!" Teresa noticed that it was one size too
small, but it would still fit better than her old denims that she
had been wearing for her son these last weeks. She even noticed, not
for the first time, that her son told her how sexy he thought she was
and it made her feel lightheaded, as it always does.

"Theres more mom, look in the box?"

Teresa paused and peered into the bottom of the box and saw a small
tissue covered garment. She retrieved it and pulled the wrapping
and then held it frozen - her laughter forgotten.

It was a white lace thong.

James laughed and explained, "No more panty lines mom!"

Awkwardly, "Thank you honey."

In all her years, Teresa had never owned a single item of lingerie -
never wore anything so skimpy or transparent. Was it proper for a son
to buy his mother skimpy underwear?

His laughter died away and she turned to look at her only son and saw
that he looked almost angry.

"If you don't like it mom, I'll take it back?"

Teresa saw his anger, his displeasure, and perhaps his impatience and
it scared her more than anything in her life. To have lived her life
for so many years submerging her emotions, accepting the physical and
emotional abuse without a word and then to find someone that loved her
for herself... she felt horror of her blunder. Of course it was OK
that he should give her clothing, yes even underwear, that he thought
would only heighten her attraction. While she doubted her own
attractiveness, she found a certain adolescent pleasure in her son's
obvious interest in her.

Teresa told herself, yet again, that his interest was only innocent -
that she had seen some of his girlfriends and knew she would never
compete physically with any of them.

So, her initial reaction at seeing the thong was quickly overpowered
by her resolve that she loved her son and that she was acting like
some over-the-hill prude.

"No honey... its just... well, I have never worn anything so..."


She nodded her head up and down, "...yes, sexy. Thank you James."
Teresa forced a smile to her face and stepped up to her son, letting
her head drop back and puckering her lips to thank him with a kiss.

It had turned into something mother and son did each Friday night -
just as he told her he loved her, they kissed. Closed mouth, hot
lingering kisses that caused Teresa to feel lightheaded and, if
standing, knock-kneed.

James head his mother against him, looking down into her face after
the kiss. "Why don't you run up and put on my gifts mom?"

Teresa could see the anxious pleasure in her son's gaze and though she
felt nervous she forced a smile and nodded her acceptance.

On uncertain knees, she turned and walked to her room where she tried
not too think too much as she put on the alien-feeling white lace
thong - instantly feeling cheap and ridiculous in the skimpy lingerie.
The jeans, though, were something different - they were a little snug
of course, being a size too small, but they felt much better than her
old denim. Quickly, before returning to her son in the kitchen, she
checked herself out in the mirror and was surprised at how attractive
her legs, hips and ass looked in her new garments.

James whistled playfully as his mother reappeared, an embarrassed happy
smile appearing on her face. But it was obvious to her son that his
mom was very pleased.

Taking hold of his mothers shoulders in each hand, James held her
steady as he openly appraised his gifts.

Teresa allowed herself to be spun and held so that her back was facing
her son. She could barely contain her pride as she knew her son was
happy, that she did indeed look good in his gift. She only paused,
mentally, when she felt a light touch upon the curve of her bottom,
feeling it slowly move down to the top of one thigh before
disengaging. Then, before she could think about this new 'thing',
James spun her again and wrapped his arms about her for a firm loving

Still holding his mother, James whispered into his mom's ear, "I was
wrong mom... I thought your legs were your best feature, but I think
its your bottom!"

The comment paused her thoughts until he pushed her back to arms
length before him and laughed with pleasure. Teresa allowed her
pleasure to resurface after the moments respite.

"Lets go into the living room and sit down and talk mom!" James
rushed, as she turned about and guided his mom by holding one of her

She felt like the luckiest woman alive, to be so loved, as she looked
forward to the rest of their Friday evening together.

Already that lingering touch upon her ass, earlier, was forgotten.


The old truck's engine cut out leaving a thick silence that seemed to
fill her ears. Rarely did Teresa go out except to go grocery shopping
or to do chores that she felt positively naughty. They had driven
through a take-out place and ate the ice cream in silence - her son
barely talking this evening. Teresa did not talk either, she just sat
silently feeling like a kid again - and happy.

Then there was her son's second gift - an expensive pair of high heels
that, when she put them on, along with her first gifts, her son had asked
her to walk about the room so as to watch her intently. She had done
it, of course - feeling brave and loved.

"Why don't you scoot over here mom?"

The truck was one of her husbands, or more correctly one of the
garages - but her son always had the use of one of the vehicles from
the office any time he wanted. It had wide, worn through leather,
bucket seats that squeaked when she slide into the middle position.

"Closer mom - I don't bite."

That nervous feeling was returning but Teresa immediately did as her
son asked - until her whole side was pressed to his own.

James brought his arm up and wrapped it about his mothers shoulders
and leaned down to kiss the side of her face, upon her cheek. "Great
view huh mom?"

"Its gorgeous honey." It was. This spot overlooked their home town -
and the lights of the night, along with the silence, was calming.

He whispered into her ear, "Not as gorgeous as you mom."

Though she knew it was wrong and alarm bells were going off in her
head, she felt herself swoon at her son's words.

James could feel his mom tense beneath his arm and he smiled to
himself - she was so predictable.

They sat in silence for a very long while and though Teresa watched
the sights outside the trucks window, she had to fight from looking
up at her son's handsome but rugged face. Loving him like her heart
had not loved before.

She was again feeling uncertain about Jame's intentions, when she felt
his arm stretch upon her shoulder and his hand grasp her breast gently. Stunned, her unspoken questions seemed to have been answered
and she could not find the words to stop the descent of her heart. As
she had to order her feelings down, that it was wrong what her son was


"Hush mom, just enjoy the sights!"

Surprising, even to James, she became quiet. She had not even removed
his hand from her breast. That was not his plan at all - so he gentle
started to stroke his mothers breast in his large hand. Soon her
nipple was pressing into his palm and her breathing was becoming

After nearly thirty minutes of mauling her single covered breast,
James removed his hand and arm from his mother and started the old beat up truck. Silently he drove down the dark bumpy hill, while his
mother still sat with her body still pressed against him - but her
arms had folded over her chest almost protectively.

Some time later they returned back home - his fathers truck still not
back from his night out with his buddies.

Mother and son entered the darkened house and before she could retreat
to the sanctuary of her room her son called gently, "Mom come here

Her heels clicked on the hard wood floor as she returned to the mud
room and her son and for some reason she felt very vulnerable.

James wrapped an arm about his mothers waist and pulled her to him,
pressing his strong moist lips to her own. His free hand, though, had
come up and grasped his mothers breast so that his hand was trapped
between the two bodies. When she did not pull away but seemed to melt
in her sons arms, James slipped his hand from her waist down to her
well rounded ass to give it a possessive squeeze.

After a very long kiss that left Teresa feeling almost faint but with
a warm glow within her body, James pulled his lips from his mothers,
but keeping his hands upon her, her mature body still pressed against
his own. "I'm so proud of you mom!"

It took a few seconds for her sons words to reach her fuzzy mind and
Teresa could not remember anyone ever being proud of her.

"You know I love you don't you mom?" His hand slipped from her full
covered breast and slipped behind her, so that a hand cupped each butt

Her heart was a whirlwind of emotions and her mind felt dull and
witless, but her body felt vibrant. All that Teresa could do was nod
that her knew her son did indeed love her - that she did not doubt.

What Teresa knew without a doubt now, was that her son loved her in a
way that terrified her and well as excited her.

James descended his lips once again and Teresa anxiously awaited the
kiss and when it came felt her knees giving out. Luckily much of her
weight was suspended in her son's groping hands, where they cupped
her ass.

Then James' tongue slipped past her submissive lips and she groaned as
he explored her mouth feeling all the world like a virginal teenager.


The old man found the new high heels and confronted his wife in a loud
and violent manner.

James had a date with one of his regular sluts that he was not home
when the fight occurred. And when he did reach home, the house was
dark and silent. That next morning he went to work where his old man was already hard at it in the office - when they crossed paths just
before noon the old man grumbled about his 'cunt of a wife' and having
found her 'come-fuck-me-heels' and then bragged having 'knocked some
sense into the old skank'.

All the while, James stood fearful that his old man would learn who
had bought his wife those high heels. It had been years since the old man had took a fist to his son, he knew his anger could be terrible.
Yet his father said nothing, which James knew that his mother had not
revealed where the shoes can come from.

James finished his day and then watched his father depart to spend
time with his buddies.

It was Friday night and James cautiously drove home. In truth he was
not sure how to think about what had just happened. It certainly was
not the first time his mother had been knocked around by her husband -
it was not even the first time that she took a beating because of
something her son had done. Yet in the weeks, months, that James had
been preparing his mother, seducing her with attention and affection,
he had come to enjoy her company - the way her eye lashes batted when
he took their relationship further. Sure he had done this over a
dozen times with other women, this time was different - he actually
gave a fuck about the woman he was manipulating.

Strangely, in the drive home, he started to thing about turning his
mother into his slave not only for his greedy lust but also to protect
her, to give her the love that she lacked in her life. Though he
would never admit it, James thought of himself as his mothers knight
in white armour - her protector and saviour.

The house was silent but James knew to find her laying painfully in
her bed. Her eyes were open and watching when he opened the door and
saw her laying in her cotton nightie with the bed-covers pressed to her
waist. Her face was viciously bruised and one eye was swollen almost


James rushed to her side and Teresa turned her head away, "I am fine
James - please... just go?"

"Oh mom! How bad is it mom?"

She did not turn her head toward her son nor did she say a word.
Teresa was a veteran when it came to physical and emotional abuse by
her husband. James, she thought, should know this by now.

"Dad told me he found the heels mom... god mom, I'm so sorry!" He was
and his own guilt and pain was heard in his voice. It was enough for
the mother to turn her head so that her son could see her.

This was her reality, Teresa, told herself. Having thought about this
most of last night and all of today - she had come to be disgusted at
the pleasure she had been feeling when with her son. It simply was
not real, the pain of her body now was real - years of pain was proof

Taking James gifts and parading around in front of him, letting his
hands touch her so commonly, his lips hungry against her own. She
forced any pleasant thought about those moments together with her son
to submerge into the darkness of her heart - a place that she could
not allow to rise to the surface else it will only bring more pain and

Then there was the final reason for these thoughts, if her husband
ever discovered what she had been doing with her son - as innocent as
she wished to think them - she knew her husbands anger may just kill
her and James. And that scared her more than any other thought.

Teresa could see the anger in her son rising, his fathers son, "Tell
me what he did to you mom?"

"Its OK James, please." She brought one hand up and tenderly
stroked his cheek - but immediately pulled it as if his scratchy two
day beard was fire. The truth was that that single touch started to
draw out the emotions that she was trying very hard to suppress - for
both their sakes.

James yanked the bedspread down so that he saw his mother laying with
her long nightie bundled about her knees and her feet a meter apart.
He also saw an ice pack placed directly over her groin, on top of
her nightie. "Mom?" His anguish obvious in his pained voice.

"I'll be fine tomorrow James."

Yet that anger and hurt was still in James' soul and he pulled the
cold pack from his mothers body and then pulled up her white cotton
nightie up to her waist. What he saw was his parents soft white
thighs bruised and then darker bruising about the brown hair of her

"James, stop this right this moment!" She quickly pushed her nightie
down past her bruising, and then looked back at her son.

"Tell me what he did?" His anger was frightening.

Just like the gifts, his hands, his kisses, Teresa could not contest
her son anything. Taking a long deep breath Teresa blurted out what
had happened in a rush, "Before your father threw out the high heels -
he... he used one on me."

"'He used one'?" His eyes were huge.

This time when he pulled her nightie back up she did not resist,
fighting back the flood of emotions that threated to overwhelm her.

"James...?" She wanted to tell her son to leave her alone for the
night - that she would be back up and things could return to normal
tomorrow. It was how it was done in this family, since it had been
formed. Yet, nothing else came from her lips.

Tenderly, James spread his mothers legs even more before leaning down
to inspect the bruising. "Its OK James... please...?"

Then he leaned further and placed his moist lips against the side of
her thigh, where a purple and black bruise marred her skin. His touch
not only surprised Teresa but it caused her to gasp loudly and tense
her body while her hand jerked up and grasped her son's messy greasy
hair. "James...!"

She sat frozen so that she even held her breath when she felt her son
move upward and then reach down yet again. This time his lips
pressed at the top of her naturally sparse pubic hair, directly over
one of the worst of the bruises. His lips lingered and Teresa did not
even realize that she was exhaling so loudly.

This was beyond her experiences, even her fantasies and Teresa had no
idea what to do, how to handle this. Her son's lips were upon her
nether region - a place that had never had another person so close

James felt his mothers hands hold his hair roughly, but he was
surprised that she was not attempting to pull him from between her
legs. Rather, the way she was breathing and gasping, it was obvious
that the reaction was positive. So he kissed again and then again.

Rarely with his women did he get so close to their cunt's - those were
for fingers or cocks he thought - but he was no stranger to a woman's

His anger dissipated when he realized the pleasure his mother was
enduring because of his actions and it fuelled further responses within
him. Yet right there, lower down upon his mothers outer labia was
the obvious scratches and bruises of his fathers abuse of her vagina.
He had used the shoe to fuck her with, raping her cunt with the heel
so that she screamed out while he laughed maliciously in triumph. She
would have to learn that what lay between her legs was not only for
the abuse that she had endured since before he was born, but it could
be used for exquisite pleasure as well.

When his lips kissed directly over her hidden clitoris his mother jerked beneath him, her legs widening even further. She whispered,
"James stop this!" But without any resolve so that he ignored her
half-hearted plea.

Then he slipped his tongue daintily from his lips and between his
mothers folds, and she gasped out, "Oh my god!"

This was a thing from one of her novels and she had never thought how
exquisite it could possibly feel. The pain of her body was forgotten
as the pleasure quickly rose - faster than she had ever thought

James was careful to be very tender and to not go lower than his
mothers clitoris - as it was obviously well abused and no amount of
kisses would cause that area to feel better. No, he used his lips to
hold her outer labia wide enough so that his tongue had free reign
with her rapidly enlarging hard clitoris. All the while both his
mothers hand held her son's head and pulled it toward her sex while
her body trembled and twitched beneath her son's face.

With his tongue, Teresa did not even realize it while he was doing it,
that that dark place that she forced her emotions to hide was torn
asunder and all her love and pleasure was freely flowing through her

Her orgasm quickly approached and Teresa thought she could see it like
a cloud of pleasure fast approaching her consciousness. It would have
scared her if she had been cognisant enough to think clearly - rather
she simply enjoyed, feeling and watching that pleasure like a

Her life was gone, her son was gone - all that was left was pleasure
that raped through her body directly through the new sensations in her
clitoris. Nothing else mattered and Teresa actually screamed as the
orgasm even took hold of her inner voyeur eye and she buckled and
thrashed upon the bed as the tongue continued to draw out every ounce
of pleasure from her body until she faded into pleasant blackness.

James sat back, whipping the back of his hand across his wet lips and
cheeks. He saw that his mother had passed out. For a few minutes he
only sat and looked upon her bruised face and relived the sounds,
feelings and even the taste of his mothers obvious pleasure. It had
been the most violent orgasm that he had ever witness, had ever
delivered to a woman and it wowed him.

Tenderly he drew the nightie back down to her knees and the blanket
back up to her chin before withdrawing.

Even though he was feeling powerful and dominant in giving such
pleasure, he realized that the prey had been captured. There was
nothing she would not do for him now.


Mother and son danced slowly, almost with no movement, to more modern
music than the last time they danced. James had his hands full of his
mothers denim covered buttocks and was mauling them to the same tempo
of the slow music. Teresa was pressing herself against the front of
her son, her face hidden in his chest while her eyes were closed and
she enjoyed every second that they were together.

That terrible and wonderful Friday, only a week before, had been a
turning point for the middle aged woman. She lived and endured
through her week for this night, alone with her son, and knew there
was nothing she would not do for him now. The orgasm that he had
given her a week before had been enough to change her life.

The bruises were almost gone - the pain in her face and between her
legs only another chapter in the book of her life. And though Teresa
tried very hard to only think of the 'now' she hopped her son would
want more, sexually speaking, from her. For the first time in her
life, Teresa wanted to give pleasure and rather than fear it, looked
forward to any intimate moments her son would allow her.

James knew she was his, had seen in it her normally-dead gaze through
the week and then, now, felt it in the body that she pressed against
him. His mother was his for the taking.

It had been an easy catch - almost too easy. She was responding to
his every touch like she was addicted to him, gasping with pleasure
wherever his hands may touch, her eyes submissively looking at him as
if... waiting.

But it was worrying him - his father was not stupid, unfortunately,
and he would notice a change in his wife. A new spark of life, and
may even notice how she looked at their son with wide-eyed devotion.
James had started this seduction to enslave his mother as he had
turned other ladies to his whim, some went more willingly than others.
For his mother, he expected her to submit begrudgingly - unable to deny
him. Rather, he was finding that the woman pressed against him was
more than willing - he could almost feel the need radiating from her.


Teresa's head lifted and tilted back to look into her son's eyes. "Yes
honey?" She wore this dreamy half-smile that was pure love.

He spoke as firm as he could, under the intimate circumstances - "We
have to be careful around dad."

She nodded, still smiling, "Of course honey." In truth, Teresa could
care less what the future held for her - in fact if she had spent time
considering everything she fully expected her husband found out about
James and herself, but could care less and wanted only to live for the
moment. To have this one moment in her life where she found true
happiness, pleasure and yes, even love.

"When he is around you can't even look at me OK?"

She nodded her acceptance, though only half-heartedly. "I love you

James sighed, "I love you too mom."

"Can I do anything for you?" Her eye lashes fluttered and she could
barely keep her eye.

To her son, Teresa looked for all the world like a virgin anxious to
learn all the secrets of sex that were previously denied to her.

James knew what she meant of course but for the first time in his life
was not sure what to do next.

Teresa saw her son's hesitation and thought it fear of his father, but
she had felt his kiss earlier that evening, remembered the glory of
his tongue upon her clitoris the week before and knew he wanted her,
loved her, as much as she now loved and wanted him.

Since waking from her orgasm the week before she had thought of many
ways to reciprocate the pleasure that her son had given her. Teresa
had played out scenarios where she used the only thing at her
disposal, her body, to attempt to please him as much as he did her.
Though there were no boundaries to these fantasies and all thoroughly
exciting to consider - she knew there was only one thing she could
honestly say she was proficient at when it came to sex. One thing
that she knew he would enjoy without any doubt in her mind.

Even before she was married, with several guys including her two
brothers and even her uncle, she had used her mouth to pleasure men.
Early in her marriage, her husband had admitted it was his wife's
talented blowjobs that cornered him into the wedding. While they
rarely had intercourse - it was almost amazing that they had James -
her husband had been very liberal about having his wife use her mouth
to pleasure him. Later, even his demands for oral sex diminished so
that her rarely, if ever, ordered sexual favours from his wife.

What all this amounted too was that Teresa considered her
mouth, lips and tongue to be the best way to give pleasure to her only
child. She wanted to take the years of cocks plunging in and out past
her lips, the different men pounding away at her face - learning what
they liked what they did not, how to perform to give the greatest
pleasure to the cock in her mouth and thus end each encounter as fast
as possible - and use that to give her son a languorous and expert
orgasm using her mouth.

Yet, Teresa could not find the words to ask her son if he wanted her
to suck his cock. Instead she allowed her unsteady knees to buckle
and lowered herself to the carpeted floor before her son.


Her hands came up and unzipped James' pants, looking up into her son's
surprised eyes, "Please James, let me do this for you?"

A half hard penis hung from his pants, and waved before his mothers
face. James viewed the sight before him - his cock waving in the
foreground with his mothers face as the background.

Teresa did not hesitate though, but immediately opened her mouth and
leaned forward and up to take her son's prick deep into her mouth.

James' immediate thought was how warm and tight the interior of his
mothers mother felt and then he simply looked down in pleasure at the
sight of his cock already enlarging and stretching his mothers red lips.

His mother was overjoyed at what was happening, what he had allowed
her to do for him. Oral sex, for her, had always been something else
- something that a guy had ordered her to do, often sneaking into her
bed late at night and it was never to be enjoyed, only endured. For
the first time in her life she wanted to do this... for her son, to
give him pleasure with the best instrument that she had. So, Teresa
closed her eyes and enjoyed every second of this blow job, ensuring
that her son's pleasure would be drawn out.

Within a minute of his dick kissing the air, James knew his mother had
the most talented mouth of any other woman that he had been with.
Just watching her perform her masterpiece upon his pale hard shaft was
a thing of beauty and he now knew why the old man often joked about
his wife's 'whore mouth' being her only noticeable feature.

As her son's hips moved back and forth, Teresa swivelled her head back
and forth as well as alternating an up and down movement with her
son's. All the while her lips were clamped tight about the shaft
while her tongue danced upon the naturally ribbed surface. Her ears
caught her son mumbling, "Oh god mom! That feels so fucking good!"
It caused a flutter of pleasure to strum inside her sex - he was
enjoying her work.

She was experienced enough to know all the signs, foretelling the
impending climax to the nearest second. Teresa timed it so the head
of her son's circumcised cock lay inside her mouth as soon as it
started to spurt out its life-giving fluids upon her ready tongue.

James heard his mother swallow loudly over his grunts of pleasure and
was amazed at how hungry for his seed she appeared to be. It was a
new experience to him - this very talented and hungry woman kneeling
before him. Simply the fact that she willingly did this - rather than
being 'persuaded' as most of his other 'girls' also spoke volume's to
the young man.

After the last of his sperm had evicted from the head of his prick -
James stepped back two steps and collapsed onto the couch. His
mother, forced to let the shrinking cock out of her mouth, watched him
almost demurely. Of course he was sexually pleased - but what about
what he may think of a mother that willingly did that to her only

In truth, Teresa had known that she would have submitted, perhaps not
completely willingly, to her child that first night that he had stayed
home with her on their first Friday together. If he forced her head
between her legs, to tossed her over the back of the couch and yanked
her skirt up to her waist - she would have taken his abuse as she did
all others. Teresa would have endured and silently accepted it. Yet
he had not done that - she knew he was genuinely in love with her,
though he was conflicted with his incestuous lust as well. She now
accepted all that and found nothing but excitement that she could be
loved and lusted after by the only man in her life that she felt she
could return the same attention.

James saw that his mother had not moved, her wet lips and scared eyes,
having been left on the floor where he had left her. From experience,
he knew this moment to be important to their relationship that she had
given him a gift and she so wanted him to be happy with it upon
opening it!

"Mom come sit beside me?"

Her face quickly changed to pure happiness, as she hustled to sit next
to her son. James placed his arm about his mother shoulder and
brought her close to him. Then mother and son kissed, passionately
and for a very long while until Teresa was swooning with pleasure -
her body on nearly on fire.

Her son dispelled some of that heat when he asked, "Where did you
learn to suck cock like that mom?" Teresa felt rather common right
then - her sons question, in her mind, the same as calling her a whore
or a slut.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked before her. "My
brothers taught me." It was not completely true - they had never
taught her anything, but she did not want to admit that they had raped
her mouth again and again through many of her teenage years.

There was one aspect that those hateful memories helped with - the
ease at which she accept this sexual relationship with her son
regardless of it being incestuous. As a teenager she had lain in
anguish, afterwards, or in fear, before, for any visit and prayed to
god that her brothers would be struck by lightening for committing
their incestuous acts - but no divine justice ever happened. A part
of her soul died way back then - only to be rekindled now, with her

"Your the best that I've ever experienced mom - damn that felt good!"

Teresa could not help herself, and her happiness at the proof of her
actions result quickly showing on her face. Something else was
revealed to her closely-watching son, that his mother was getting a
little embarrassed.

Soberly, James asked his mother, "How you feeling... down there mom?"
He had nodded toward her lap and Teresa knew exactly what he was
referring too.

For the first time in her memory, Teresa felt her face turn red in
embarrassment - knowing what her son's question could lead too. And
the embarrassing thing was, she wanted it to lead to that as well.

"It is still a little sore." It was but it certainly felt hot and wet
down there regardless of the lingering pain of her beating a week

James playfully pushed out his lip - pouting until his mother suddenly
laughed. "Honey!"

He laughed with her, "Give me a break mom - since last week I can't
think of anything else but that sexy cunt between your legs!"

Teresa's laughter died at his common words - reminding her how awful
a thing it is for a son and his mother to do the things they had
already done.

James saw it as well and saw that it was another opportunity to mold
his mother to him. "You don't like me using that word do you mom?"

She suddenly felt guilty but admitted, "No honey. I'm sorry."

"I love you mom - do you think I would treat you like some slut from
the neighbourhood?" She did not have time to answer, but felt it in
her heart that he would never treat her so commonly. "I use those
words because being able to use them with you, 'cunt', 'cock',
'blow job', make me feel closer to you in some way. Intimate."

James was laying it on thick and his triumphant smile had to be forced
into a soft, almost sweet, smile. "Only when we are alone could I use
those words with you," he allowed his hand to slip down between his
mothers thighs to cup her denim covered crotch, "its like our little

Teresa felt her sadness disappear and only her earlier happiness
remain. She playfully blurted out, "I loved sucking your cock

Mother and son shared a lengthy laugh before simultaneously diving
forward into a very passionate kiss that would last Teresa the rest
of her life.


Teresa sat above her son, straddling his hip as she moved slowly up
and down.

It had never been like this - James wanted to make fucking his mother last, he wanted to watch her while he did it. His endurance was
amazing to the middle-aged woman, his powers of recuperation exciting
- never before had a man made her feel so alive, so sexy, so loved.

"Lean over mom - feed me those titties!"

Teresa dropped down so that her hands straddled her son's head and
moved her torso so that one of her nipples came directly to her son's
open mouth. An involuntary groan escaped her lips and she felt
another twitch of pleasure inside her vagina.

Her 'cunt', as James liked her to call it, had never been so pleasured. In
fact, Teresa had never known how electrified sex could be - how
orgasmic she could be. The only orgasms she had ever known, before
James, was by her own hand. Yet her son seemed to be able to give her
one at a whim, it amazed her.

There was something else that helped in their relationship - Teresa
found that when she gave up all pretence at 'choice', at having a will
- that her loving son took care of her completely. She consciously
realized that, sexual speaking, she found the most pleasure when she
allowed her son to 'own' that part of her. In essence, she was his
slave - his slut - and it gave her only joy.

James moved his mouth to the other teat and sucked that nipple into
his mouth while both his hands fondled his mothers generous soft ass.
The old slut had come to him willingly, had allowed herself to be his
toy with nothing but pleasure. It surprised him at how passionate she
was for him, how easy it was for her to be pleasured by any command he
gave her. Just last week, after he lay sated, he jokingly told his
mom he wanted her to orgasm one more time - eagerly she awaited his
instructions, then using his big toe, moving his foot back and forth
between her sweaty thighs, in her cunt like a stubby little cock with
her hands until she orgasmed yet again.

They only fucked in his room - his father never invading that area of
the house. Yet it was how his mother now treated him when his father was around that he feared would cause their discovery. She looked at
her only child with something akin to awe as if he were a god and she
only awaited his instruction. When alone, this was a rather agreeable
reaction from his mother but even his distant father was not blind.

Every week, her son brought her gifts which he gave her at the
beginning of their Friday nights together. Last week it had been
white thigh-high stockings, which she now wore as she fucked her son.
This week, it had been a small vibrator, which she had read about but
had never seen much less used but after opening his gift she eagerly
spread her legs and masturbated before her son with her new
battery-operated toy. That look of love mixed with lust was like
nourishment to her now and Teresa could not imagine life without it.

When James slide his middle finger of one hand into his mothers rectum
she groaned loudly, which he soon echoed. Teresa knew her son
intimately now - knew the signals that foretold the inevitable orgasm.
Knowing too that her rear passage was something, when enjoyed, her
son's orgasm would not be far behind. Only once had a man been 'back
there' when her husband had half-raped her very-pregnant body, leaving
her ass torn and bleeding so that she had feared another such
encounter. With her son, though, Teresa found that she was empathetic
to her son's anxious pleasure 'back there' so that she found herself
greatly enjoying his anal attentions.

It was more proof to the middle aged woman that she was made for him -
that there was no one else alive that should be simpatico, happy. It
was like the vibrator - she would never consider masturbating before
anyone else, even the thought of it put disgust and fear in her heart.
But when her son asked she eagerly found herself slipping two of her
fingers in and out of her 'cunt' while the vibrator was used to tickle
her clitoris. There was a god and he had brought her son to her -
nothing else mattered.

Teresa felt it - the head of her son's cock enlarge a second before
every muscle in his body froze. Perhaps two seconds later James
groaned like an animal in pain about the same time that his mother felt his seed shoot into her womb. It brought about another of her
own orgasms and her squeals of pleasure was mixed with her son's


His father confided in his son that he knew that Teresa was getting
'boned by another dick' while at the office one afternoon. James
stood silently, to see if his father knew it was him. He didn't.

"How do you know that dad?"

Furious, the old man faced his son so vehemently that James
involuntarily took a step back. "A husband knows these things boy!"

He knew enough not to argue with his father - and he could see that
beneath the surface a barely contained raged boiled within him.

"I am going to keep an eye on her and when I find out who is sticking
it to the skank I'll do them both!"

The son was wise enough not to ask what 'do' interpreted to mean.


As it was, it was not until the next Friday evening that James had a
chance to talk to his mother alone. She listened silently, soberly,
her face very pale. He sat across from his mother, scared even know
that his father was watching.

When James was finished talking his mother coldly stated, "I don't

What? James felt his anger rising - did not care that her husband,
his father, was so mad that he may end up killing one or both of them?
If she was not scared for herself, which made no sense to him, why was
his mom not scared for him - whom she professed to love so

"Your father can't hurt me any more James."

"What?" He could not hide his astonishment from his face.

"He is powerless now - don't you see that my love for you has
diminished him in my eyes?"

"But mom...?" James was so astonished that he could not find the
words? What had he created?

She nodded her head stubbornly, "He can hurt my body honey - but he
can never hurt my heart or soul every again. They belong to you!"

For the first time in his life, James realized how manipulative and
monstrous he had been. His playing with emotions and weak minds of
other ladies had been nothing to the subjugation of his own parent.
She had coupled love and trust in with her lust so that her submission
was not a thing to so easily be given up. Here was the first woman
that, he know knew, to be fully his slave - she would do anything for
him. And it scared him at what he had created.


On the next Tuesday Teresa called her son at work and told him not to
worry - that she loved him and that it would be all over soon. She
explained that she had left his father some fabricated 'evidence' to
find. Seconds after he hung up the phone his father stormed passed
him, jumping into his truck and tearing down the road.

James sat at his desk for nearly an hour before jumping into his own
truck, to race home.

Before his home was a multitude of red and blue rotating lights. It
was a nightmare of official faces and names, a police officer leading
him to the back of an open ambulance. There lay his mother, with
plenty of blood across her cheeks and jaw, but with only one swollen
blackened eye.

When Teresa saw her son standing almost in stock above her, she smiled
and then whispered, "Its not my blood James."

James looked around at the other faces, most trying hard to not look
in his direction before he saw a second ambulance gurney coming out of
his home, a shrouded body on the top of it.

Teresa saw his look as well and she soberly spoke, "Its over James -
we are free!" She reached out and took her son's limp hand.

The shrouded body had blood soaked through the white sheets, but all
about one area. There was a large round almost-black spot on the
circle directly over the hidden bodies crotch.

Somewhere in the crowd James picked up a male voice, "Do that to a guy
when he is hard and he bleeds out like a fountain!" James felt sick
and light-headed.

In terror his gazed returned to his mothers and he felt his soul
freeze - he had made her and now he could never hurt her by letting
her go. Did he not tell her weeks before that only she could stop the
abuse - well it appears that did an effective job.

James realized that he was as much his mothers prisoner as she was his



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