After School

We all think of ourselves as normal. Well, maybe people like Donald Trump and Madonna think they're special. But take away their money and what's left?

Anyway I always thought I was normal. And I thought my family was normal too. I'm not particularly popular at school, but I have some pretty good friends. I'm not a jock, but that's by choice, instead of body type. I like working out, and I like having muscles I'm proud of. But I guess I'm a little lazy too, in terms of not wanting to spend all that extra time in training for football or wrestling or whatever.

I think I look pretty normal. Girls look at me, and I can usually get a date if I want one. Can't afford one, actually. You can't take girls out if you have no money. But it's not like I'm a hunk or anything, and girls fight over me, or will pay for dates just to be seen with me. Don't laugh. A couple of the popular guys at school are in exactly that situation. Sometimes girls can be really stupid.

And that's important - about girls sometimes being stupid - because my sister, Addison, did something stupid that I got sucked into, and my perfectly normal world suddenly got all fucked up.

Well ... I guess it wasn't sudden. But it seemed like it, later on. It's still confusing to me how things ended up like they are.

Maybe I should just start at the beginning, and maybe putting it all down on paper will entertain you and help me figure out how everything happened.

Actually, I'm pretty sure it will entertain you. It entertained the crap out of me while it was happening. I'll admit that. And that's part of the problem. I shouldn't have been entertained. I shouldn't have even done anything. But I did, and now I have to live with it.

But I was supposed to start at the beginning, so here goes.

For our purposes, the beginning was on a September evening, after supper, while we were doing homework. Our parents are funny about homework. I think it has something to do with how they were brought up or something. The rule is that we have to do our homework after supper, and we have to do it at the dining room table. If the computer is required, they got us a laptop, but it still has to be used at the dining room table. If both of us need a computer, Dad loans one of us his. No TV, no video games, no nothing, until homework is finished. Addie - that's what we call Addison for short - was working on biology, which she asked for some help with. That's allowed. We can help each other, but not do each other's work. It was about the difference between DNA, which is deoxyribonucleic acid, and RNA, which is ribonucleic acid. I explained macromolecules, and proteins and carbohydrates and nucleic acids, and how DNA was double stranded, while RNA was usually only single-stranded, and her eyes kind of glazed over. Dad walked through the dining room about then and she stopped listening to me and spoke to him.

"Daddy? Can I get an after school job?"

"What kind of job?" he asked.

That surprised me a little bit. Usually Dad is the one who free wheels and goes along with everything. One of his favorite sayings is "Be an existentialist! Explore life!" He usually says that when one of us has to do something new and is worried about it. Like he said it when I was all worried about going to high school the first day. And then he said it again the first time I went on a date and was all nervous. It was usually my mom who interrogated us and wanted to talk about everything. Her favorite phrase was "Let's examine the options." Maybe Dad adopted her attitude because she was off on an archaeological expedition in Peru and would be gone another six months.

"It's modeling clothes," said Addie.

"Modeling? Really?" He looked surprised. I could understand that, because I was surprised too. Modeling? She was pretty, but she wasn't, like gorgeous or anything. Like me, she had some friends ... okay a bunch of friends ... but I'd never thought of her as a model.

I blinked. I knew guys lusted after her. She was a cheerleader, after all, and all guys lusted after cheerleaders. It was like one of the rules of nature, completely normal. But modeling?

"What kind of clothes?" asked Dad.

She looked at him like he was mentally deficient. That was normal too.

"Clothes, Daddy. You know ... tops? Pants? Outfits? Clothes?" she tugged at the blouse she was wearing.

"What's the name of the agency?" he asked. That word, agency, came out of his mouth funny, like he had just remembered it. Maybe he was trying to restore his station as a non-deficient adult.

She dug into her book bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. She handed it to him.

"Zharkov Photography Associates L.L.C.," he read out loud. "Never heard of them."

"Cindy Jenkins told me about him. She works for him. It's only two or three hours a night, and only a couple of nights a week. And he pays twenty dollars an hour, Daddy. Please? I need to earn some money." Addie was a pro at the puppy dog eyes thing, and she employed them now.

"Why do you need to earn money?" he asked. "If you need something, let's talk about it."

"I can't ask for money to buy you a Christmas present, Daddy!" she complained. "I'm not a little girl any more. And what if I just want to blow a little bit on some luxury? Come on, Daddy. Cindy says it's perfectly safe and Vlad is a nice guy. He employs lots of girls."

Maybe she saw the frown on his face. For whatever reason she rushed to add, "Boys too, Daddy. It's not just girls who model for him. Cindy's boyfriend works for him too, and some other guys."

The way she said that last part was classic Addie for "I think" but she didn't actually say it. I knew her. She couldn't lie to me. But she still pulled it off with the parents now and then.

And Dad had only been half listening, as he read the paper.

"This is a release for a minor to be employed by the company and take pictures which would then be 'sold for public consumption in various advertising and entertainment venues'," he said. "What does that mean? Advertising I get, but public entertainment venues?"

"Cindy says he does some video work for a company that makes video games. I think she called it live action capture, or something like that. She says they turn what she does into the movements a character does in some video game or something. She has to wear all these sensors and wires and stuff."

"I don't know," he said. I reached for the form and he let me have it. I looked it over. It was written in that legal speech that would scare the crap out of anybody ... you know ... with words like "Indemnify" and "shall be held free from all blame" and stuff like that. I would say it looked normal, except I had never seen anything like this, so I had no idea, really, whether it was normal or not.

"Cindy said you get to keep some of the clothes," said Addie. "I wouldn't have to ask for your credit card and go shopping as often."

She knew how to dangle the carrot in front of the plodding mule, I'll give her that.

"Maybe I should call your mother and discuss this with her," he said.

"And he'll hire somebody else and I'll have to flip hamburgers for eight bucks an hour, and work fifteen hours a week and smell like grease and get kicked off the cheer squad," she whined. She was a good whiner, though I had learned how to be impervious to it. Dad? Not so much.

"You can do it under one condition. Your brother has to be with you," he said. "As your chaperone." He folded his arms to show her how serious he was.

She frowned at him, and I saw the thunder clouds building on her face. No girl in high school wants to be chaperoned by her big brother. Even I could imagine the snickers if it got out that she was under my supervision.

"They're not going to pay us both," she complained, unconsciously obviating her argument that this agency hired males too. "Besides, he won't do it. He's a dickhead."

"He'll do it if I tell him to do it," he said, with authority.

He looked over at me as if we had discussed this and I had already agreed that it was a good idea. But I didn't think it was a good idea. Not because I didn't think she should be a model. Somehow I had already gotten used to the idea that she could pull that part off. I just didn't want to be saddled with the whole mess. Even if it was only a couple of hours, that was a couple of hours I could spend doing something fun, instead of babysitting my sister. The problem was that I didn't have an after school job myself, and I wasn't involved in any extracurricular activities. In other words, from my father's perspective, I had nothing better to do with my time than escort my sister to her new job.

And I knew my father. He might be a mild mannered CPA these days, but when he met our mother, he rescued her from a bunch of Taliban who had taken the archaeological team she was working for as hostages. He was Special Forces and she was doing post graduate work, documenting antiquities that the Taliban were destroying. Anyway, she was appreciative of being rescued, and one thing led to another and I was conceived. So, having gotten a hostage pregnant, he got out of the Army and went to college.

One of my father's old buddies, a guy on the same team that rescued my mother, came to visit us a couple years back. He was still in the Army and he looked like he could kill you just by looking at you. He and Dad sat in the living room and slaughtered a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label, which my father had had sitting on a shelf ever since I could remember. Mom was sitting in there with them until the guy looked at her and said, "You know, Buck, I never could understand why you cashed in your chips, but seeing Stephanie, here, I get it now. I really get it, Buck."

And my father, who I had never heard say a mean thing in my entire life, looked at his Army buddy and said, "I know what you're thinking, Chuck ... but is she worth dying for? Because if you make a move on my woman, Chuck, I'm going to have to kill you."

And they all laughed. Except he sounded funny somehow, and there was this look on Chuck's face that said, "And I know you could do it," and my mother suddenly got up and said it was bedtime, even though there was half an hour left before bedtime. And pretty soon we heard the front door open and close and we never saw Chuck again. And my dad opened the good Scotch for him!

So once in a while, when our father said something in that special tone of voice he had used with Chuck that night, we didn't ask questions. We just did whatever he told us to do.

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

"Daddeeeeeee," whined Addie.

"Let me hear you ask if I want fries with that," said Dad. "See if you can make me want fries."

She would have stormed off, except we weren't finished with homework. That gave me an idea.

"What about homework?" I asked.

He didn't bat an eye. "On days when she works, homework gets done as soon as you get home from school. Then supper, and then she can go to work. Two hours on those nights, and no more." He reached for the paper in my hand and looked at it again. "And Mr. Zharkov has to agree to all that."

Now she didn't want to storm off. The negotiations had begun.

In the end, this is the deal she got. Since this Zharkov guy ran a business, and might have set hours because the business demanded it, he agreed to let us do homework before or after she worked, or both, if necessary. She also got dispensation for supper, which was usually a sit down meal where everybody who was in the house had to be there. On work days we could "eat out of the refrigerator", as Dad called it. He made us both promise not to tell Mom about that. She was the one who was big on family meals. He said that by the time she got back, it would either have worked out, or "other arrangements would be made," which I knew meant he'd make her stop working, but which she thought meant he'd let us get fast food on the way home.

And I thought all this was stupid, because she didn't even have the job yet, and had no idea what hours this guy might require her to be there.

So it was possible there might not even be a job for her, the first time we went to the house.

Zharkov Photograph Associates L.L.C. was located in the basement of a really nice house in the fancy part of town. It was in Pine Bough Estates, which was where the rich folks lived. The houses were set on two or three acre plots, and there were lots of swimming pools, and nice cars and all that.

Addie was driving. Dad had fixed us up an old VW Bug. We had to actually help him rebuild the engine, so we'd know now much work went into it, and how it worked and how to fix it if it broke and all that. It was part of his explore life philosophy, I guess. Anyway, there was a regular driveway that led to a two car garage at the front of the house, but the driveway also went off to the side, around and behind the house. Addie had been told to go that way, and when we got to the back yard, there was a parking apron big enough for three cars. There was one parked there, and I recognized it as Jerry Thompson's. He was Cindy Jenkins' boyfriend.

There were garage doors in the back too, on the lower level of the walkout basement. They were both closed, but right beside it was a people door, so we went to that. There was a sign on the door that said, "Come in if you've been invited. Stay out if you haven't." I looked at Addie, who looked at the release Dad had signed. While he was signing it he said, "You take care of your sister and protect her from anything bad. That's your job, and I expect you to take it seriously."

I was about to ask if we had been invited, when she reached for the door knob, turned it, and walked in like she owned the place. I couldn't do anything other than follow her inside.

We found ourselves in what looked like a family room, except there were racks of clothes all over the place. They were the kind with wheels that you sometimes see in a movie set in New York City, where people are moving racks of clothing down a sidewalk, or across the street. That seemed normal. At least until I realized some of the clothing looked odd. Like I saw what was undeniably a pirate's outfit, hanging on a hanger, with the pirate hat balanced on top of a shelf built into the top of the rack. I also saw a long white robe, with angel wings above it.

I realized it looked kind of like the costume room at the high school I went to. I was in all the musicals, because that was the best way to be near all the hot, popular girls, who got all the lead roles in the productions.

There were a couple of windows in the wall that had the door in it we had come through. The far end of the room had a fireplace in it, and the wall to our left had a door in it that obviously went into the garages. A staircase went up into the rest of the house right next to that wall. On the long remaining wall there was only one door. The rest of that wall was taken up by shelving units that were stacked with boxes. It looked like they held more costumes.

I was wondering what to do next, still unsure that we had actually been invited in, when the door flanked by shelves opened and none other than Kerry Watson, a guy in my Trig class, came through it. His upper torso was bare. He didn't see us, going to a rack of clothes, where he started moving hangers around. He finally pulled what could only be called a peasant jerkin from a hanger and shrugged into it. He was heading back to the door when he saw us. He looked startled.

"Hey," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"Is Mr. Zharkov here?" asked Addie.

"Yeah," said Kerry. He looked at the door. "I'll tell him you're here."

"Can we just come with you?" asked my sister.

He shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "He's kind of busy. Stay here. I'll tell him you're here. Okay? Don't come in until he says you can."

I thought that was kind of odd. Kerry wasn't one of my friends, but we knew each other, and he was acting kind of squirrelly. For that reason alone, when he went back through that door, I started to follow him. Addie reached and grabbed my arm.

"He said to wait," she said.

"Something's not right about this," I said.

"Why?"

"I don't know. He's just acting funny."

"They're obviously modeling in there," said Addie. "Don't screw this up for me, Bobby."

"I'm not screwing anything up," I said. "I just want to see what's going on in there."

"I told you, they're modeling."

"Who models an old timey outfit like that?" I asked. "He looked like he belonged in a play about the middle ages."

"That doesn't matter," said my sister. "We wait until Mr. Zharkov comes out here. If he hires us, then we can go in there."

The argument was broken up when the door opened again and a guy who looked like Grizzly Adams came out. He was big, with really wide shoulders. He had on a shirt that looked like it was made of satin or something. It was open to the middle of his chest and he had a bunch of gold chains lying on top of more hair than any guy should have on his chest. He grinned at us with the biggest, whitest teeth I'd ever seen in my life.

"Children!" he brayed, coming toward us. "Welcome to my humble home!"

Addie's hand was still on my arm, and I could tell instantly that she was just as unhappy about him addressing us as children as I was.

"A flower of femininity!" he yelled, looking Addie up and down in a way that made me ball my fists. Then his eyes shifted to me. "And a stout young man. Less handsome than craggy. You look like a surfer boy, yes?" Instead of offering his hand, he stopped, standing on feet spread shoulder's width apart and set his huge hands - also hairy - on his waist. Suddenly he looked like an overgrown, very hairy Peter Pan, getting ready to crow. Except he looked nothing like Peter Pan. But you know what I mean.

"I am Zharkov!" he bellowed. He rolled the R. "And who might you be?"

Addie let go of my arm and shoved the paper towards him.

"I'm Addison Stapleton, and this is my brother, Bobby," she said. "I'd like to be a model. Are you hiring?"

I expected him to snatch the paper out of her hand, crushing it in his paw, but he plucked it, instead, almost daintily from her fingers. He glanced at it, and then turned his eyes back to us. Again, they went to Addie. His eyes fell to her chest and stayed there a long time. I got that. Most guys wanted to stare at her chest. Even I had to admit she had a really decent pair. But she was my sister, and I started getting hot under the collar again because this guy wasn't sneaking peeks at her boobs, like everybody else did. He just stared at them.

"Hmmmmm. Addison. You are maybe the girl Cindy Jenkins told me about?" He looked at me. "She said nothing about a brother."

"He's just here to ..." She stopped. I could imagine what she was thinking. That's because I could imagine what she'd been about to say, that I was just there to babysit her while she put on clothes she couldn't afford and let somebody take pictures of her. But, of course, she didn't want to admit I was her chaperone. That was why she'd stopped.

"I'm here to take care of her," I said, somewhat heavily. I tried to sound dangerous.

Zharkov wasn't intimidated. In fact, he laughed. "You think you can take care of her?" He looked her up and down again. "I have much experience in this business, and I can spot a hellcat when I see one. I think you might fail in the attempt." He grinned. I know both Addie and I looked at him stupidly, because what he said made no sense. Addie had a temper, and she could scream and yell with the best of them, but I could take her over my knee and spank her if I wanted to. In fact, I did that fairly regularly, just to piss her off. But it also showed her who was in charge. She'd only gone whining to dad once about that. He'd looked up from the paper and said, "I suspect you needed it." He had looked past her to me, where I was trying to peek around the corner to find out if I'd gone too far. "Be nice to your sister, Bob," he'd ordered me. She'd tried that line on me after that, saying "Be nice!" whenever I needed to remind her what the pecking order was. Eventually she just gave up and moved to the "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" gambit, trying to make me stop before I left my handprint on her butt. I never actually hit her hard, though. It wasn't about hurting her.

"Never mind," he said. "It is too soon to explore that. Perhaps there are things Cindy has failed to notify me of. A brother and sister. Interesting. You know Kerry Watson and his sister Natalie?"

We both nodded.

"They work for me," he said. "Cindy, of course, knows this. Perhaps this is why she suggested your name." Suddenly he was all business again. "So. What kind of modeling do you wish to do?"

Addie looked confused. "Clothes?"

He smiled. "Outer wear? Casual? Formal wear? Swim wear? Winter wear? Hunting, fishing, and outdoor outfits? Underwear? Are you interested in commercials, or only in clothing sales? Do you want to pose alone, or in a group? When one begins in this business, it is not wise to attempt too many different kinds of work. Each requires a particular look, or attitude, and while you might be very well suited for one, others might not work for the camera. I must admonish you both, if I can't use the photographs I take of you, I cannot pay you for posing."

"Oh," said Addie, a little breathlessly. "I had no idea it was so complicated."

"Let us do this," said Kharkov. "Today is Tuesday, yes? I have a full schedule tonight and tomorrow. Come back Thursday and we will do some test shots. Then, perhaps, we can see what the two of you are good for."

The way he said "good for" made the hackles stand up on the back of my neck. I didn't like this guy too much.

"Okay!" said Addie, blurting it out excitedly.

"Maybe," I said, guardedly.

"We'll be here!" said Addie, more in control of herself. "Thank you. I really need this job."

He grinned again, showing those amazing, white teeth surrounded by all that bristly black hair.

"I look forward to it. I love shooting hellcats. They are always so vibrant and exciting." He abruptly turned, heading back to the door he had come from, and behind which at least Kerry Watson, dressed like a peasant, was waiting for him. I wondered if Natalie, his sister was in there too. This Zarkhov character had said they both worked for him. I knew Cindy Jenkins, of course. She was a sophomore, and was Jerry's girlfriend. Since his car was there, maybe Cindy was too. I didn't have to wonder why Cindy might have mentioned my sister to this Kharkov character. They were both cheerleaders.

Knowing Addison was excited, I made her give me the keys. In the mood she was in, she'd treat traffic signs like they were all elective, rather than compulsory. I, of course, could both drive and talk at the same time safely.

"I don't like that guy," I said.

"You're a boy," she said, dismissively. "Everybody knows boys have brain damage."

"Brain damage has nothing to do with it," I said. "Did you see the way he looked at you?"

"Of course I did," she said. Addie had gotten used to men looking at her within months of becoming a cheerleader. Cheerleaders thought they were in complete control. They teased the crap out of all the men in the stands, and then went to stand in little groups of girls their own age, talking about clothes or Facebook or musicians or whatever the fuck girls talk about. While they did that they apparently believed the men stopped undressing them with their eyes. I knew better, of course. "He looks at women all the time, Bobby. It's his job. He has to figure out how to use their assets to sell the product. He has to look at women like that."

"I'm a guy, Addie," I said. "I know what guys are thinking about when they look at a girl like that. Want me to tell you?"

"You're brain damaged," she sniffed. "And gross. I don't need to know what my brother is thinking when he gawks at my friends."

Then, in that infuriating way girls have, she changed the subject.

"You know, a bunch of my friends think you're hot. I don't get it. Did you know Charlene Sisson actually asked me what you looked like naked?"

Charlene was another cheerleader. She was also a senior and hot as a firecracker. And I didn't have a date for homecoming yet.

"Really!" I said.

"Like I'd want to look at you naked, just so I could tell her," she snorted. "Ewwwww."

"I'll take a picture," I said, smiling. "And you can give it to her."

"Ewwwww!" she squealed again.

We didn't talk about Mr. Zharkov again the rest of the way home.

When we got home Addie preempted me by gushing to Dad about how professional everything looked and how Mr. Zharkov was even interested in taking some test shots of me. I still had these kind of creepy feelings about it all, but I couldn't put my finger on anything. I was pretty sure if I raised doubts, our father would put the kibosh on the whole thing. But I also knew that my sister would be mad at me for maybe ever if I did that.

So I kept my mouth shut.

And that led to ... well ... it led to a lot of things. But I can't tell you about them right up front. If I do you'll think I'm the bad guy. And I'm not. At least I wasn't. And most of the people who actually know what happened insist I'm not. And I had my own doubts.

But just let me tell the rest of the story, and then you can make up your own mind. But please, wait until you know everything before you jump to any conclusions.

The next day, at school, my sister was thick as thieves with Cindy Jenkins and Natalie Watson. And on the way home, she was uncharacteristically quiet.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"Don't lie to me. I can read you like a book."

"A third grade book," she said. "That's the highest grade level you can read."

"Attacking me won't work," I said. "What's wrong?"

We rode on in silence for another block. Finally I said, "Maybe you'll tell Dad what's wrong."

She shot me a look, and then finally spoke. "They won't tell me what it's like to work for Mr. Zharkov," she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"They said they signed something that says they can't talk about it to anybody who hasn't also signed it."

"A non-disclosure agreement," I said.

"Yeah. That was it," she said.

"But they like working for him?"

"They love working for him," said Addie. "They said I will too."

"What did they say about me?" I asked.

"That's the funny thing," she said. "They said you'd love it too, but they wouldn't tell me why."

"They said I'd love working as a model," I said.

"Yes. But they wouldn't tell me why. Because of the non-discrimination clause or whatever."

"Non-disclosure agreement," I reminded her.

"I don't get it," she said. "Cindy was the one who said I should work for him. But now she won't tell me anything about it."

"A non-disclosure agreement protects the company from you giving away secrets," I said.

"What kind of secrets?"

"I don't know. Who his customers are, maybe. Or how much he pays you. Stuff like that."

"He pays twenty dollars an hour," she said. "Cindy told me that."

"Maybe the pictures he takes are of clothes that aren't on the market yet," I said. "So whoever hires him doesn't want any of the designs leaking out before they are on the market. There are knockoffs all over the place. You know that."

"Sure," she said. "That's all I can afford to buy."

"So you know there's a huge market for secrets like I'm talking about."

"Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

"We'll find out Thursday," I suggested.

She looked over at me. "Thank you," she said.

"What for?"

"For not telling Dad you don't like Mr. Zharkov."

"You know Dad wants me to keep an eye on you," I said.

"I don't need a babysitter!" she snapped.

"I know that," I said. "But he worries about you. All fathers worry about their daughters going out into the big, wide, dangerous world."

Her shoulders slumped. "I know."

"And I don't want anything bad to happen to you either," I added.

She reached and put a hand on my leg.

"Thanks," she said. "For such a huge dork, you can be really sweet sometimes."

"Be still my beating heart," I said, theatrically. "Addison just gave me a compliment!"

"You are such an asshole sometimes," she said, taking her hand back.

But she didn't sound actually mad.

Switching

It took me a while to squeeze out of the railway station before making it to the parking space while I kept thinking about what my wife said just before the train started moving.

'You have to be content with your mother's spicy food till I return with your baby.'

I was convinced that her statement was quite straight and meant nothing than what it sounds. But, I somehow began to feel the prick as I kept eschewing her statement again and again. I have been watching Savita, my mother with sexual intentions for quite some time now although I have always ensured that neither she nor my wife get suspicious about it. I never missed a chance to watch my mother's cleavage carelessly revealed once in a while and I have been watching her swaying butts while she walked with heart pumping fast. It is difficult to recall since when I have started having this intention although the initial phase of feeling ashamed about desiring to have my own mother on my bedside has vanished for good.

I had asked myself if I was taking undue advantage of my mother's helplessness, more so after my father died leaving nothing but a few hundred rupees of monthly pension for her. However, I knew that it was only after her sudden interest in some social activities that I began noticing the changes in my mother. What started of a mere curiosity seeing her renewed sense of dressing, soon turned into lust. As I drove back home, it struck to me that it is going to be just me and my mother for at least another three months before my wife returns after delivery.

As my mother opened the door letting me in, I lowered my eyes in a sudden feel of guilt although it was just momentary. My eyes hungrily looked up to watch my mother walking towards the sofa while her ass cheeks swayed.

"Shall I bring a hot cup of coffee?" she asked with her eyes glued on the television.

"No. Thanks," I replied and kept looking at her knowing well that she wasn't in the mood to take her eyes of the TV. She was wearing a stiff cotton saree which kept fluttering in the breeze of the ceiling fan. She had considerably reduced the height of her blouses which just about concealed her reasonably big tits. I could see a reddish curve just below her blouses suggesting that she preferred to leave a little bit of the lower portion of her breasts uncovered. It was already enough for me as my dick had hardened dramatically as I made up my mind to proceed further without wasting any more time. I slowly got up, walked across and reached to the double sofa where she was sitting. I soon rested my head on her lap pretending as if I was very exhausted. I wasn't sure as to how she would react as I kept my eyes closed. Seconds later, I could feel her palm on my forehead as she began massaging it gently.

"You seem to be tired," she said while I simply nodded my head in agreement.

"Why don't you sleep it out? I will get you a nice cup of coffee and some pill."

I thought that it wasn't a bad idea at all. I immediately rose from her laps, got into my room and jumped onto the bed. My mother didn't get up at once as she kept watching her favorite soap making me further anxious. It was after a good ten minutes that she came into my room with a cup of steaming coffee and a head ache pill. I swallowed the pill and began sipping the coffee while my eyes rested on my mother's wonderful tits right above my eyes. I shook my head in disagreement after my mother stretched her right hand to take back the empty cup.

"Sit down," I instructed. "I need to talk to you."

She immediately sat on the bed and looked at me with surprise in her eyes. "Anything serious?"

"I guess so," I quipped. "I wanted to talk about you."

"About me?" She exclaimed. "Go ahead. I am eager to hear."

I paused for a moment before beginning to speak. "Of late I can see that you look different. The sober look on your face has vanished since long and I can see your face glowing with grace."

"Is it so?" She smiled. "What else?"

"Your sense of dressing is getting better day by day," I continued. "Even my wife is somewhat surprised to see the range of sarees you prefer wearing nowadays."

"That's because of my club activities," She intervened abruptly. "I need to look presentable in the company of some big people."

"Presentable?" I queried. "You have started looking gorgeous nowadays. I hope guys are not chasing you while you go out."

She began laughing as she said, "I think that is going too far. I am going to be 45."

"That exactly is the problem," I smiled. "Even I can't believe that you are going to be 45."

For the first time since our conversation began, I could see her face going rigid for a moment. There was no way I could go back having gone so far into engaging my mother into such a conversation. My fingers reached to her lips, held and gave them a gentle press. She took no time in pushing my hands of her and attempted to rise from the bed. My hands flew towards her waist to hold them and pull her towards me. My lips were pressing against her stomach now as I started kissing her soft skin all over. I could feel her body shaking as my lips made contact with her body as her hands came down heavily on my head to push me away.

"Manu. What are you doing?"

"No; this is not correct..and..I am..."

"Ohhh...please..stop this Manu...I am your mother..."

As she kept stammering, I was becoming nervous as I feared that things were getting a bit forceful. My grip on my mother loosened and I reconciled to the fact that if she wasn't interested she can easily get away. But, she wasn't making any extraordinary efforts to get herself relieved although my arms had opened up. I realized that she wasn't resisting me as I had feared as even her evasive action was too slow to say the least. She was trying to get up in slow motion from the bed when I held her by her arms and pulled her back on to the bed.

"Don't say you don't like it," I said looking straight into my mother's eyes.

"We can't do this. Manu," There wasn't even the scarcest shade of protest in her voice.

"Be my wife till she is back," I pleaded as my lips approached her face again. As my lips began exploring her shiny face licking her cheeks, chin and lips, she stayed still with closed eyes as if she was tied up.

"It is now that I have realized how sexy you are," I kept pestering her with my erotic talking. "You have a wonderful pair of boobs; better than my wife and firmer too."

The brief struggle we have had left her saree astray over her breasts as they stood invitingly in front of my eyes. I stretched a hand eagerly to her right breast, cupped it and squeezed it gently.

"Ohhh. Manu."

I knew that she was yielding to me now as I could see a hint of smile on her lips. Her eyes opened soon as she inched her way closer to me.

I asked her looking into her eyes, "I want to kiss your lips." I got bolder and slit my tongue inside her mouth. Immediately, her tongue stuck out and met mine inside my mouth. I was convinced that my mother has begun enjoying and began unwrapping her saree. She sat in front of me with a petticoat and a blouse that just about held her overwhelming tits beneath.

"You look wonderful," I admired. "My hands are itching to have a go at each one of your tits."

"Oh! It is very odd thing to hear from you," She covered her face with her hands as I unclasped her blouse hooks to leave her with just the tight bra holding her beautiful globes.

"Oh Mom, I have watched your cleavage a hundred times in the last few months," I lured her." I can't believe I am seeing them so close today."

It worked as she undid the bra hook and pushed me into the bed. Before I could apprehend what was happening, she gradually got on top of me. I kissed her again and unzipped my jeans and stuck her hand on my huge bulge. I began taking each one of her nipples into my mouth and started sucking them softly making her moan gently. I felt her body trembling as I alternated between her nipples to give them some oral treatment they deserved. Her breath was getting harder and her moans were becoming louder. I couldn't believe my luck as I was getting more and more aroused to be pleasing my mother this way. I soon became naked in front of my mother while she looked at me with utmost amazement.

She glared with a smile as I kissed her again on her lips and eventually began working my way down her neck to in between her huge tits. She kept moaning softly and I started to kiss her fleshy boobs. My hands went around to hold her ass and clutched them firmly. I undid her petticoat and descended enough so that my head was at level with her panties. I could see her panties was soaked and I began kissing her womanhood and thighs. My fingers went around her pussy lips as her moans became louder than ever before.

"I am feeling so odd," my mother hissed. "Should we go to this extent?"

"I bet we should," I asserted. "Stop thinking that I am your son and keep enjoying as if I am your lover."

"You must be a good lover," she admitted. "You wife must be very lucky."

"So you are," I said with a smile and resumed where I had left by licking over her panties. She couldn't hold it any longer as she pulled her panties off to reveal her bare pussy. Almost immediately my tongue popped out and started brushing her pussy lips with hunger. She was rather screaming than moaning as I started tasting drops of her pre-cum with my tongue. I rolled her over and laid her on my bed. Our lips met again as we kissed for quite some time before she grabbed my dick. I threw all caution to the winds as I mounted on her.

"We are going to have sex now," I whispered into my mother's ears.

"If that's what pleases you, go ahead," her words sounded as though resigned but her arms wrapped around me eagerly.

"I am going to slid my cock into your tight pussy and feel you all around. I will keep getting at your tits and may be I will shoot my cum into your womb. She stared at me while I spoke to her as my hands held her firmly. My mom instantly got the clue as she began spreading her legs. I slowly began thrusting my hard, virgin cock into her slogged pussy making her groan. As my motion gathered momentum, her body swayed coping up with the pounding my dick was performing. She occasionally glanced at me to smile as if she was impressed with my fucking. The session lasted for quite sometime before we had a simultaneous explosion as thick loads of my semen found their respite inside my mother's cunt. Once our fluids slurped, I rolled over and laid next to her while the room was filled with our deep breathing. Our naked bodies hugged each other as we remained on the bed staring at the ceiling fan for a long time.

"We did it. Mom," I turned to her and told her as she blushed.

"I am glad that you are pleased now," she replied with a sense of fulfillment.

'I won't be missing my wife anymore' I told myself.

---

Back Seat

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A Mother

I am a twenty year old student of an engineering college in Chennai, India. My story is very strange. The problem is I do not know whether I am a hero or a villain. I think my deeds are pure but the world without second thought would say that I have plumbed the depth of ignominy. This is my story.

My home is on the seventh floor of a high rise block of flats in Purasawalkam, a crowded ancient part of Chennai. My father owns a shop selling electrical goods. My mother is a teacher in a middle school within walking distance of my home. The fourth member of our household is the top servant woman. She comes in the morning at seven and after washing the dishes, sweeping the house, laundering, and helping my mother with cooking leaves at ten for a fast food restaurant where she is the specialist samosa folder. Though only 32 she is a widow having lost her husband to the popular brew called arrack. She and her two children aged 18 and 21 live in a tiny house at the end of our street.

By the time the top servant woman finishes her chores at ten we three would have left for our duties. I leave at eight, my father shortly before nine and my mother shortly after nine. As all four have a house key each that is no problem. One morning I had forgotten to take the exam application form. It was the last day for submission so I rushed home. It was a few minutes past ten. I used my key to get in. I collected the form and was filling it when I heard the door click open. I heard something heavy and soft thud on the divan. It was the maid bringing in the laundry that she had hung to dry on the terrace. She could not have known that I was in the house. As she was folding the clothes she was humming a tune. I have never heard her warbling before. She sang well. I could hear her open the clothes almirah to replace the folded clothes. The singing now emanated from the kitchen. Her work for the day was over but she was in no great hurry to leave. I thought she was taking some rest before leaving for the fast food joint. It was not so. She was waiting for something more sensational. I heard the door open once again. I wondered who it could be. A male voice spoke.

"Taruni," it said. I froze. It was my father's. That was the maid's name. I have never heard my father talking to the maid least of all calling her by name, and here he was calling her most lovingly. I silently moved to the next room and climbed to the loft in that room. At one end of the loft there is a gap in the wall blocked with wooden trellis. It overlooks the kitchen. I crouched comfortably in the darkness and had a ring-side seat to watch the thrilling event that was now to take place. I admit that my action was unworthy of a gentleman.

My father and the maid were in a tight embrace. Soon he was peeling off her clothes. The sari was the first to go and then the blouse and bra and finally the skirt. The woman was naked. Lean and comely she had a shapely pair of breasts that sagged just enough to enhance their beauty; her buttocks were firm and her pubic mound nicely convex. She was not clean shaven but had trimmed the pubic hair short. I could criticize my father's morals but not his taste. His wife, my mother who is just 38 is prettier, but of course wife's good looks never stood in the way of a husband seeking mistresses. The maid now went about preparing soup from a can that she opened. My father sat and watched the naked girl at work. He must have enjoyed the sight. He must also have passed on his taste for seeing naked girls do homely chores to his son for I found that sight most erotic.

My father was now moving stools and chairs about as if he was a ring master in a big cat show in a circus. He placed a large stool against the wall and a chair against it. It was a well practised move. It was of course apparent that this affair has been going on for months. I wondered what this odd arrangement of chair and stool was for. I got the answer soon enough. Taruni sat on the stool with back against the wall. My father sat on the chair facing her. Taruni lifted her feet and placed it on either side of father's thighs. She had her thighs widely apart and her vulva was in grand display. Father who had by now discarded his clothes was holding the soup bowl in one hand and as he sipped his other hand was either kneading her breasts or rubbing her clitoris. From time to time as if to vary the taste he took a sip from one or other nipple. Soon the soup bowl was empty. Incidentally even though my father offered her soup she declined. The maid knew were to draw the line in a master servant relationship!

The time was now ripe for the finale. They had a well practised routine. My father who is strong and well built lifted Taruni in the folded state she was in and planted her on the table used for kitchen work. From my hide I could she her spread thighs and her vulva with lips parted. My father then took his erect and good sized penis towards the vaginal opening and she helpfully took hold of it and inserted it in. Both were in a pumped up state owing to the strange foreplay. Judging from the movements and the moaning they must have had their climaxes in unison. They held on to each other for quite a while and then they parted. Taruni climbed up the sink and washed her vulva. Even in that tense moment I wondered what my mother, a stickler for cleanliness, would say if she knew the unusual use her maid was putting her sink to. They dressed quickly. A brief hug and my father left and after resetting the furniture she left. I did not. I had an urgent task to perform. I went to the bathroom and masturbated. As so often happens in our world it is the innocents who sneak out. I left like a thief, looking this way and that.

The stirring event that I witnessed was not a shock to me. My father was a womaniser. That was no secret. He has been the star of several scandals. My mother must have had it out with him in her earlier years but now she was reconciled to it. She rarely spoke to him and they slept in different rooms. What was disturbing was that the affair should be happening under our roof and involving our maid with a thriving family. It did not look good. I felt deeply for my mother, a gentle and kindly teacher much loved by her pupils. If she comes to know of it even her resilience would not be enough. I thought about it in the days that followed. I decided that my mother needs me.

For the next few days I watched the maid as she went about her duties. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to show that she was carrying on a spectacular affair with the master of the house. My father gave nothing away either. They of course never spoke to each other and my father hardly ever looked in her direction. They were communicating with each other of that there was no doubt. That afternoon the maid was waiting for him with soup bowl and can with opener ready. When and how he sent his messages I know not.

2

A fortnight later on my return from college I noticed my mother's eyes red and swollen. I asked her if she was weeping. She said that she had missed her weekly oil bath and that was the reason her eyes were red. I was not convinced. Eyes can get congested if one does not take oil bath on the day it is due but they do not swell.

"Ma," I said holding her with both hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes, "tell me what's your sorrow."

"Nothing, like I said I missed oil bath," she said. We were in eye contact. She tried to look away but some force impelled her to keep her eyes from turning. I could see tears collecting and then pour down the cheeks. She fell into my open arms and sobbed.

"Mother darling, tell your son your troubles. I will see what can be done." We held tightly to each other. It is not in our culture for grown up sons to hug mothers this way. With daughters it would have been natural. But she was in such distress and so much in need of support from her only friend that spontaneously we hugged. After a while her sobbing subsided. Then she spoke.

"Your father," she said between sobs, "is carrying on with Taruni."

"Your maid?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"I saw with my own eyes."

"How?"

"I came home early this afternoon because the school closed. I opened the door. I saw your father's shoes in the rack and also Taruni's slippers. I got suspicious. There has never been anything in their behaviour for me to suspect anything but one can never say with a man like your father. Silently I went to his bedroom. There was nothing there. I went to the kitchen and peeped in. And there I saw them united in sex." She broke down once again.

"You know what I did Visu?" she said amidst sobbing, "Like a thief escaping from a house I silently sneaked back to school. Your father has reduced me to that state." I held her and spoke endearing words into her ear as she wept. It was a while before she calmed down.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing." Suddenly her eyes went dry and glinted with determination. "I have thought about it and I have decided what my course of action should be. I will pretend that I know nothing. I cannot mend your father. That's for sure, and I can't lose the best servant maid I have ever had. I will accept the situation and move on." Psychologists have so far not written about the Indian mistress and her top servant woman. When they do, as they doubtless would, they may find it possible to explain the surprising response of my mother to the satisfaction of the unbelieving readers of this chronicle.

My mother quite spontaneously has found a way out of the impasse. She would need my support to move on.

"Don't worry Ma. I will take father's place. I'll protect you, care for you and see to it that you are happy. She nestled closer to me. We were on the sofa. I was on my back and she to one side of me. We were cheek against cheek and I was kissing on all parts of her face and she was passively but willingly accepting my kisses. She was on the edge of the sofa continually slipping and I had to be pulling her up. I thought it was better to sit up. Still holding her I sat up and then pulled her to me. My hand happened on one of her breasts as I was pulling her up. Even before I could remove the hand she placed her hand on my hand. To me it appeared that she wanted to assure me that she knew it was unintentional. Once again tried to release my hand but mother put pressure on it and would not allow my hand to go. My first assumption was wrong. She was telling me as plainly as if she had spoken that she liked my hand on her breast. I gave her reason to believe that I liked it too. This is what happened. The cuddling and the contact with the breast brought on an erection. My penis was hard and it was pressing the cleft of her buttocks. No way could she not have felt it over her thin sari. It was at that moment that son's love for his mother and mother's love for her son took on an added dimension.

Our hands remained frozen for some time and then mother squeezed my hand which in turn squeezed her breast. Whatever doubt remained was now gone. Shamed by the enormity of her action she got up and without a backward look hurried to the kitchen. I sat still dizzy from what had happened. My mother was demanding a more intimate relationship with her son. She had the need. She had none with her husband and a woman of 38 who was still menstruating is bound to have sexual desires. It was my responsibility to do what my mother wanted. To the world it might appear to be the most heinous of deeds but to me it was a mother's request in her desperation and it thus had the force of a command. I had to obey.

Mother soon came out with a tumbler of coffee. She handed it over but was looking away. She could not bring herself to look at her son after she had expressed sexual love for him. I was amused to see her behave like a teenager. It was tender. I drank the coffee and then went to the kitchen as if to place the used cup in the sink. Mother was busy peeling potatoes. I stood behind her.

"Mother, turn round and look at me." She bent her head and giggled like a school girl. I held her by the shoulder and turned her. She would not lift up her head. I bent down to look up at her. She turned her head the other way.

"Hold my hand," I said. I offered a hand and she held it.

"Now once again do what you did a few minutes ago." She would not. I reached for her cheek and kissed her. "Mother darling you must," I pleaded. I kissed her on the forehead, eyes, cheeks, neck, nape of neck every where except the lips. "Mother darling please." And then slowly and deliberately she lifted up my hand that she was holding all the while. She took my hand behind the pallav of her sari and placed it on her bare breast. I gasped. At what point she had bared her breast I know not. It was so soft and yielding. I could feel the firmness of the nipple. She pressed my hand as if to squeeze. I needed no second invitation. I squeezed on my own and then with two fingers I plucked the nipple. We hugged and kissed passionately on the lips.

"Now like a good boy you get on with your other duties," she said. Other duties, indeed! I left.It was late in the evening. Nothing more was possible till late afternoon of the morrow.

3

I had a busy time in college the next day. My professor, two of my classmates and I were intensely at work preparing for a presentation. I came home a bit late and immediately after had an accident. I slipped in the bathroom. I managed not to fall but in the process sprained the small of my back. I hobbled back to my room. Mother made me lie face down on the bed and rubbed ointment to my back. She said that very hot bath after the ointment had seeped in was a certain cure for back ache. The geyser was not to be trusted to deliver really hot water. She heated up water to near boiling in the oven and carried it to the bathroom. I moved with gingerly steps to the bathroom not savouring the prospect of scalding.

Mother was getting the buckets ready for mixing the water. I had to undress. For a moment I hesitated and then I removed my shirt and then my lungi. Once again I was naked in front of my mother but for the first time after attaining adulthood. I was far from being shy. It was thrilling. I watched for mother's reaction. There was none. For all the effect it produced in her I could have been a three year old.

She tested the water with her fingers before pouring it down my neck. She gave me a bath as I sat on a stool. It a delightful to feel her soft hands applying soap to my face neck and body. It was at this moment that I got an erection. There was no way I could hide it. Even if I could I would not have. I was proud of it and wanted my mother to see her son in all his manly glory. Mother once again took no notice of the change. She did my body and then the thighs and legs. When she was doing my legs my penis often touched her. She did not seem to notice it. Finally she came to the scrotum. She washed it with such delicacy that when she rubbed my testicles I felt no discomfort. The penis meanwhile was erect pointing upwards as it always does. Mother then collected some soap from the pubic hair and rubbed the penis.

"You are tense Visu for quite some time now," said mother, "it is not good to leave you like this. Can I jerk you off?" It was a stunning statement for a young man to hear from his mother. I was speechless. "Why no answer. If you feel shy you can do it after I leave."

"You do it mother," I said. Mother pulled a slightly lower stool and sat on it. Then she collected more soap from the pubic hair and expertly worked her hand up and down my penis. She looked up.

"Am I doing it well," she asked.

"Wonderfully mother," I said. I was working up to ejaculation using my mother as the fantasy object.

"Faster Mom, I am coming." Mother speeded up.

"Closer to the tip mother," I said. I was losing grip altogether. I inserted my hands under her blouse. The press buttons gave way and the blouse opened out. I cupped both bare breasts. Mother was working with speed.

"Your hands would get soiled mother," I said.

"You don't mind me. I want it soiled," she said in an emotion tinged voice. I could feel the semen coming. At that moment one hand of mine almost without my knowledge slid between the sari and abdomen and reached the clitoris. Her vulva was wet all over. She was tense too and as much in need of release as I was. As I rubbed the delicate firm knob that was the clitoris I ejaculated and she climaxed. Mother and son were on each other in one writhing mass.

Semen was all over her. Soon she was in the nude too as we gave each other a bath. I soaped every part of her giving extra attention to her breasts and vulva. Then we wiped each other and then we lay on the bed in a tight skin to skin embrace.

4

When I woke up mother was not by my side and I found a lungi round my waist, apparently my mother's handiwork. I checked the time. I had been asleep for a little less than an hour. I freshened myself and went in search of my mother. She was in the drawing room.

"Ma, what's the matter? Why are you sad? Still thinking of father?"

"She turned towards me and shook her head.

"Then what?"

"My behaviour towards you was totally unworthy of a mother."

"Ma, I don't agree. Your husband has disowned you and has taken your maid as his mistress and is having sex with her in your own kitchen. You are young enough with normal, legitimate urges. To whom can you turn but your son? He has to take over all the duties that your husband has to perform but does not. No, Ma you are right in seeking your son's help and your son will only be performing his duty."

I was not lusting for sex. When my mother squeezed my hand over her breast I could sense how desperate her need must have been for her to make such a gesture. I was duty bound to follow up. I held her hand and drew her towards me. I put my arm round her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. She placed her arm round my neck and rested her head on my chest. We sat for a long time holding each other. Mother nestled into my arms and I kept kissing her repeatedly on the cheeks.

"Darling Ma, come we will move to the bedroom," I said. She turned and looked at me as if to say 'are you sure we will be doing no wrong?'

"Absolutely," I said answering her thoughts.

She was wearing a light blue skirt and white loose top. I removed the top and pulled the knot on the skirt tape. The skirt dropped with no opposition from her. I removed my lungi and we lay down pressing against each other. Gradually mother relaxed and was getting sexually excited. Bare bodies rolling about in total contact is a pleasure that has to be experienced. It was pleasant to feel her breasts against my body and my thighs against her vulva. She must have loved it too for she often pressed her breasts on me and as often put her leg over me and came closer to let her vulva rub my thighs. At times she would leave a little bit of vulval moisture on my skin. One cannot imagine anything more exquisite than that wetness. This went on for quite a while. She then sat up and pulled my head to her lap. She offered a nipple that I first sucked and then bit with lips covered teeth. She held my cheek and mumbled tender baby talk. It was a pure mother-child moment. She now lay back and spread her thighs. I took this as a hint for me to lick.

"Why are you looking at it like that," she said for my eyes were riveted on her vulva.

"I was wondering how so big an object as myself could have come out of that small opening," I said.

"I often wonder too," she said.

"You are very wet," I said. She indeed was for the secretions from her vulva had spread to her inner thighs,"

"It has never happened before," she said. "You must be the reason." The prolonged foreplay had aroused her to a high pitch of excitement. She climaxed almost immediately to my stimulation. I then got on top. We made eye contact as she held my penis and inserted it in. She smiled uncertainly. The feeling that she must be doing wrong still lingered. She was so wet that it slipped in as if sucked. It was not an emotional moment for me. It was as if I was performing something that I have to do.
We had a massive orgasm. Exhausted we snoozed in each other's arms.

This was to become the routine but never more frequently than once every three or four weeks. The rest of the days we were like any mother and son. I suppressed my urges and took no initiative at all. I was doing it for her. That much was clear. She had a curious way of indicating that she wanted me. She would wear the blue skirt and the white top, and of course her body language was very expressive.

Our home is now working to the changed rhythm. My mother and I never return home at odd hours lest we disturb father and Taruni. My father and the maid have a free run of the house in the early afternoon hours.

One unexpected fall out was the disappearance of the background resentment against the husband that was poisoning her mind. That and the wonderful new relationship with son has made her a very happy woman.

5

As I put down my experiences on paper it slowly dawned on me that I have not done anything that I should be ashamed of. I may not be a hero but I certainly deserve credit for doing my filial duty.

Mom and Son Part4

"You really need to get out and find a man," Glenda scoffed.

Sara sighed, as it was the same thing she heard from her mother every time they talked. "Mom, I found a man."

"You did?" Glenda asked, surprised as usually the response by her daughter was negative.

"Yes, he is perfect," Sara replied, holding in a moan as her perfect man licked her pussy. "Actually, I think you would really like him."

"That is great," Glenda said, pleased to hear her daughter was happy. "Where did you meet him?"

Simon listened intently to the conversation between his mother and nana as he licked his mom's cunt. As expected, she was delicious and he imagined this would be a regular snack of his from now on.

"Oh, I have known him for a long tiiiime," Sara answered, Simon's tongue a constant distraction.

"Are you okay, dear?" Glenda asked, sensing her daughter sounded strange.

"Yes, Simon and I are just playing a game of chess," Sara lied, a game that was a staple in their family since she was a child.

"Don't let him get your queen," Glenda stressed, believing it was the key piece to victory.

"Ooooh, he already has it," Sara moaned, unable to hold it in as her orgasm built from Simon's impressive tongue work.

Simon spoke up, "Mom, you're just a pawn to me now."

Sara blushed as Glenda asked, "What did he say?"

"Oh he's talking trash because he is winniiiiing," Sara whimpered, her orgasm about to explode.

Simon, his cock rock hard, moved up and in one hard deep thrust filled his mom's cunt, as he quipped, "Here's my king."

"Aaaaaaah," Sara moaned loudly, into the phone.

Glenda was concerned by her daughter's strange behaviour. The last sound sounded more like a sexual moan than anything else. Yet. That was absurd if she was with Simon. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Simon continued slamming into her, reveling in the ultimate power he had over her. His nana, a former Miss Alabama, was a beautiful woman too and the thought of adding her to his incest slut collection suddenly popped into his head.

Sara tried to speak normally, even as her orgasm grew, "N-n-nothng, just about to lose to Simon."

"Well, he is good at chess," Glenda said, still finding the conversation strange.

"He is a master at the game," Sara quipped, looking directly at Simon who was slamming into her, filling her with all nine inches of his cock.

Simon continued fucking her until he suddenly pulled out, lowered himself slightly, and slammed his cock into her ass without warning.

"Mother fuckeeeeer," Sara screamed, as her ass was filled with cock.

"What the hell?" Glenda gasped, at her daughter's language.

"Checkmate," Simon announced, as he flicked her clit with his finger while all nine inches filled her ass.

"S-s-sorry, Mother," Sara stammered, as Simon pounded her ass. "I just lost the game."

"Well that is terrible language to use in front of your child," Glenda scolded.

Sara said, "Mom, I've got to go. We can chat more tomorrow."

"Okay, honey," Glenda answered, although Sara had already hung up...or so she thought.

"You are a bad, bad booooy," Sara scolded playfully, loving the feeling of a cock in her ass.

"You called me a mother fucker on the phone with nana," Simon pointed out, amused.

Glenda couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her daughter was fucking her grandson. Yet, she didn't hang up, she didn't speak, she listened in voyeuristic awe, her own long neglected cunt getting wet as all the strange sounds Sara had made earlier suddenly made sense.

"You are a mother fuckeeeer," Sara pointed out, the double pleasure of a cock in her ass and the constant flicking on her clit making her delirious.

"Come, my Mommy-slut," Simon ordered. "Come like the ass slut you are."

Glenda's hand went mindlessly to her cunt as she listened to the incestuous act. Her husband dead seven years, her last date over a year ago, her last cock over two years, the taboo act was a surprising turn on.

Permission granted, the invisible barrier that had held Sara's orgasm at bay disappeared and the most intense, pleasure to ever cascade through her hit her in rolling waves.

"Yeeeees, Masteeeer," Sara screamed, "I love your cooooock in my fuck holes."

Glenda flashed back to her husband and his dominant behaviour. He was her master for over thirty years and her his submissive slut. How she longed to be dominated, treated like a slut and used as a fuck toy again.

Simon intensely watched Sara's facial expressions of euphoria as he continued to slam his cock into her amazingly tight ass.

"Oh fucking fuck-fuck, mommy's comiiiiiing," Sara babbled, wave after wave of pleasure flowing through her.

Glenda's fingers furiously rubbed her clit as she imagined her grandson fucking her.

Simon asked, "Where does Mommy-slut want her Master's cum?"

"In my ass," Sara answered, having never felt a man come in her ass.

"Beg for it, slut," Simon ordered.

"Oh God Master, fill Mommy's ass with your cum," Sara begged, a surprising second orgasm beginning to build in her even though the first hadn't completely ended.

Glenda grabbed the rolling pin that was on the kitchen table for the cookies she had just made and slid the small handle inside her cunt. Her husband loved to watch her fuck herself with crazy objects, so this wasn't the first time she was intimate with a rolling pin. Closing her eyes, she relived her days as a submissive slut, imagining it was her being used.

"Or how about I cum all over your pretty face and send a picture of her slut daughter to nana?" Simon asked.

"You'd fuck her too if given the chance wouldn't you?" Sara asked, trying to enhance the naughtiness of their first night of incest.

Glenda's orgasm was close already from fucking herself with the rolling pin, but hearing her daughter and grandson talk about her had her near an orgasmic apocalypse.

"I'd make her my nana-slut and take all three of her fuck holes," Simon answered, the idea suddenly super-hot.

Glenda's orgasm hit her with the hot intensity of a thousand suns as she imagined her grandson making her his nana-slut.

"Does the Oedipus Complex count for nanas too?" Sara smiled.

"I imagine it does," Simon laughed, as his second orgasm of the night got close. He added, "Of course, I would make my two incest sluts eat each other's cunts."

"Hmmmm, you are such a naughty boy," Sara teased, the idea of eating her mother's pussy popping into her head for the first time.

"A mother fucker," Simon corrected.

"A nana fucker," Sara teased.

Glenda continued to be stunned by what she was hearing, the thought of eating out her daughter suddenly a vivid image in her mind. She had many times eaten pussy for master at parties, swinger's clubs or threesomes at their home.

"Here it comes," Simon grunted, as he deposited a load of his cum in his mom's ass.

"Oh yes, baby," Sara moaned, loving the feeling of cum exploding in her, as she moved her hand to her clit and began rubbing frantically.

Glenda pulled the makeshift fuck toy out of her cunt and pondered the shocking revelations as she continued to eavesdrop.

"Master, may I come again?" Sara asked, her second orgasm close

"Will you help me make nana my slut?" Simon asked, still fucking his mom's ass, albeit slower.

"I'll do whatever master orders me to," Sara answered, meaning it. The idea of seeing her overbearing perfect mother getting ass fucked enhancing her rising orgasm.

"So you'll eat nana's cunt?" Simon questioned.

"I'll eat her asshole after you come inside it," Sara answered, trying to make it as dirty as possible.

"Come again, Mommy-slut," Simon ordered. "Come while thinking about making nana your cunt licking slave."

Sara moaned loudly as she rubbed her clit furiously at the idea of her mother as her pet slut.

Glenda, meanwhile, couldn't believe the incestuous act her daughter had committed, or the reality that she herself had just got off intensely listening to it, nor could she believe they both were conspiring to add her to their morally wrong act. Yet...her cunt was still leaking cum as she imagined indeed being her grandson's nana-slut and her daughter's mommy-slut.

"Oh God, oh God, fuuuuck," Sara screamed as her second, although smaller, orgasm hit her.

Simon, pulled out, and said, suddenly tender, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, son," Sara weakly responded, her body drained from the act of ultimate submission.

Glenda clicked end on her cell and then without thinking about it texted:

I'm flying into Boston next weekend to come and visit for a couple of weeks.

Sara's phone buzzed indicating she had a text, and Simon grabbed the phone.

"Holy shit," Simon said amused, amazed at the timing of the text.

"What?" she asked curious.

"Nana is coming to town next weekend," he answered.

"No way," she said, not believing it.

Simon handed her the phone and said, "I think the incest Gods are on my side."

Sara laughed, as she read the text, "It seems they are."

She texted back, putting a lot of innuendo in the text that her mother wouldn't catch on to:

Great to hear you are coming, Mom. You really don't come enough. Simon will be thrilled to know you are coming too. Remember it is the rainy season here so you may get very wet.

After sending it, Sara showed it to Simon who laughed, "You're a very bad girl."

"Maybe you should discipline me," Sara suggested.

Glenda read the text and saw her daughter's naughty innuendo. She went to the fridge, grabbed a nice long thick cucumber and headed to her bedroom for another orgasm.

Simon leaned in and kissed her softly. He then said, "Best Earth Hour ever."

Looking at the clock, she chuckled, "And with a minute to spare."

Simon moved up and offered his cock to his mother, "Well, we can't have that!"

Sara smiled, "How many times can you fire that loaded weapon?"

"A dozen," he shrugged.

Sara said, before taking his cock in her mouth, "You know, Earth Hour is just starting in the Mountain Time Zone."

"And then it will be another Earth Hour in the Pacific time zone," Simon chuckled.

Sara added, before taking her son's cock back in her mouth, not remotely phased that it had last been in her ass, "Plus, you still have one more fuck hole to cum in."

Mom & Son Part 3

Simon, trying to act casual and strong, now that the original shock was now gone, said, "If that is true it is your fault then."

"How so?" Sara asked, with a raised eye brow, while considering just lifting up his sheets and taking his cock in her mouth.

"Well, you always dress so sexy," Simon admitted.

"You find me sexy?" Sara asked, surprised by her son's words.

"Mom, you are the hottest woman I know," Simon answered, which was the truth.

"You need to get out more," Sara said, playfully slapping his shoulder.

"I'd rather stay home with you," Simon smiled, hinting at tomorrow.

"Good," Sara said, "because tomorrow is Earth Day and I was hoping we would spend Earth Hour together."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else Mom," Simon replied.

"Great, it's a date," Sara said, then shook her head slightly at how corny she sounded.

"Are you going to dress up then?" Simon joked.

Sara smiled, as she leaned in and kissed him good night, this time allowing her kiss to last just slightly longer than a normal mother-son kiss, "Oh, I will be all dolled up for my man."

"Cool," Simon said, and then chastised himself in his head for sounding like such a moron after having such a suave line before.

"Good night, sweetie," Sara said, leaning in and kissing him again.

Simon this time kissed back briefly as his cock begged for attention.

Sara broke the kiss, turned on by her son's words and lips, "Sorry, honey, I forgot I already gave you a kiss good night."

"I'll take as many kisses as you want to give, Mom," Simon said, as he watched her stand up.

She giggled like a school girl flirting, "That is good to know." As she walked out of his room, leaned against the wall in the hallway, and began rubbing herself, so horny she couldn't wait to return to her room.

Simon, meanwhile, flipped off his sheets, grabbed his raging hard cock and began jerking off. Closing his eyes, he imagined his mom was still in his room, on his bed, as he moaned, "That's it, Mommy, suck your son's cock."

Sara gasped when she heard him.

Simon, oblivious to the audience just outside his door, continued to role play with himself, as he asked, "Does Mommy love her son's cock?"

Sara whispered to herself, "Yes, baby, Mommy loves your cock."

Simon pumped his cock furiously, a moment later ordering, "That's it slut, deep throat your Master's cock."

Sara moaned louder than she meant to as she heard his naughty words, just the thought of her son being her master getting her close to another orgasm.

"I'm going to fuck that cunt and ass of yours, Mommy-slut," Simon groaned a minute later, as he sprayed cum straight up in the air.

"Fuuuuck," Sara whimpered, biting her lip, as her own orgasm shuddered through her while she imagined becoming exactly that, Simon's Mommy-slut.

Both mother and son, recovered from their orgasms, both excited about making their fantasies a reality...both frustrated that it would have to wait until tomorrow.

.....

Both Simon and Sara were full of both anticipation and trepidation as Earth Hour wasn't until 8:30 pm and being a Saturday, they had all day together.

After breakfast, Sara asked, "So what are your plans today?"

"Write an essay in response to the Oedipus Complex theory," Simon answered, which was actually true.

"And what will your response be?" Sara asked, curious if his paper would be a lot different if tonight went as planned.

"Well, I originally was going to write it from a male point of view only, but after your comments last night, I am going to write it from a new, fresh point of view," Simon answered.

"And what would that be?" Sara asked, genuinely curious.

"The role of mothers either knowingly or unknowingly tempting their sons," Simon revealed.

"It's the mother's fault?" Sara asked with her eyebrow raised, even as she wiggled her stocking-clad feet to entice him.

"I'm not saying that," Simon said. "but if you know your son gets turned on by your beauty, or in my case your legs in nylons, and you continue to flaunt your sexy legs and always wear nylons, like you are doing right now...I think you are definitely to blame for stimulating that theory."

"You think I have sexy legs?" Sara asked smiling.

"God Mom, you are the hottest woman I know. All my friends call you MILF," Simon answered, which was true.

"Really?" Sara asked, flattered by the thought of Simon's teenage friends checking her out.

"Oh Mom, don't pretend you don't know you're hot," Simon accused, thinking they may not make it to the Earth Day hour at this rate.

"Oh, Simon," Sara gushed, squeezing his shoulders as he finished his orange juice. "I can't believe you and your friends think your old hag of a mother is attractive."

"Mom, you are the most beautiful woman I know," Simon said, which again was true.

"You have to say that, you're my son," Sara said, fishing for more compliments.

"No, you are supposed to say I am the handsomest man you know because I am your son and you created me," Simon countered.

"Oh, I love you," Sara said, giving him a big hug from behind.

"I love you too, Mom," Simon replied.

"So do you want to interview me for your essay?" Sara asked, realizing it would be a great opportunity to cross the invisible line once and for all.


"That's a great idea," Simon nodded, unknowingly thinking the exact same thing as his mother. "Let's do that tonight when we are hanging out during Earth hour."

"Great idea," Sara said, "So how about an afternoon movie?"

"Sure," Simon nodded. "Can we do supper out as well?"

"A great idea," Sara nodded.

"And we can dress up," Simon added.

"Should I wear nylons?" Sara asked. Before playfully adding, "I don't want to compound the evidence on your Oedipus Complex theory and my accidental impact on you."

Simon raised an eyebrow, "Is it all accidental?"

Sara shrugged, her smile playful and sexy, "That is for me to know and you to find out."

"Well then you'd better wear nylons, to keep the theory relevant," Simon suggested.

"Yea, sir," Sara agreed, trying to hint at her submissive side.

"Good Mommy," Simon replied, hinting at his dominant side.


An hour later, they were at the mall. Sara was dressed in a blue cocktail dress that barely covered the top of her tan lace thigh high nylons. She was sans bra and panties prepared to seduce him if the opportunity presented itself.


Simon was dressed in black dress pants, a dark blue dress shirt and tie which Sara thought made him extra handsome...a perfect replica of his father.

Simon was hard throughout the movie at the impending prospect of making his mother his pet. Simon pondered whether his mother would go through with it...she had obeyed every task so far and crossed a few inappropriate lines already...but would she cross the final taboo line of no return?

Sara, meanwhile, had problems staying focused on the movie as she imagined the near distant future when she would become her son's slut at last. Could she follow through with the task she was given? Would Simon respond approvingly to her submission? It seemed so, based on their awkward flirting yesterday and again that morning. Yet, once she crossed the line, there was no going back.

At dinner, they chatted about college, work and entertainment. Both of them sensed the tension, as they both avoided the conversations that had dripped with sexuality earlier.

They arrived home at 8:25 and Simon said, "I'll go and get my laptop to save my notes when I interview you."

"Okay, honey," Sara agreed, slipping out of her heels.

Five minutes later, Simon came back down to see his mom, the top of her thigh high stockings in full view, laying on the couch with her eyes closed.

"Is Mom going to sleep during Earth Hour?" Simon teased, the time to cross the final line now at hand.

Opening her eyes, Sara smiled and asked, "Will you give me a foot massage first, sweetheart?" Sara asked, before going all motherly. "Plus, it is Earth Hour...no electronics!"

"Of course," Simon agreed, putting his laptop on the table. He lifted up his mom's stocking-clad legs, sat down and allowed his mom's feet to fall into his lap. As he massaged her feet, he said, "Ready for your interview?"

"Sure, honey," Sara said, loving the feeling of Simon's hands on her feet, as she wondered what it would be like to have him moving his hands up her legs and to her fevered, long ignored pussy.

"Do you believe the Oedipus Complex syndrome is realistic?" Simon asked first.

Sara pondered the question before answering, "Well, the reality is there is no stronger bond than the love between mother and son. Thus, these feelings can naturally feel like more than just platonic love and blur the line."

"What line?" Simon asked.

"Between platonic and romantic love, of course," Sara answered, before adding, "I went online and read about the Oedipus Complex and learned that in many cases the son not only wants to sleep with his mother, but to dominate her sexually."

"Some do believe that," Simon nodded, his already stiff cock flinching in his pants, as he moved his hand to his mom's calf, just the slightest of hints of his interest in being indeed more than platonic.

"Have you ever fantasized of dominating me?" Sara asked, pushing the envelope...knowing this question should answer any last minute doubts she had of her son's interest being more than platonic.

Simon blushed, surprised at the question. Deciding that the risk of the truth being negative was remote after all he had learned, he answered, "Mom, I fantasize about making you my pet every day."

Sara asked, confident he was going to be as willing as she, "And what would that entail?"

Simon replied, "Unconditional obedience."

"Which means?" Sara asked, trying to draw out all his feelings.

"Being my twenty-four seven sexual submissive," Simon answered, putting it all on the table, as his hand slid just under her dress.

"So I would obey you without hesitation?" Sara asked, for clarification, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, you would be my Mommy-pet," Simon added, using the term he had used in his earlier chats.

"And you want that, Simon?" Sara asked, her cunt burning with lust...the answer to this question all that was left to make her willing to cross the line and become exactly that...his Mommy-pet.

"Mom, I have wanted you to be my sexual slave, my plaything, my submissive, my pet mommy, all my life," Simon answered, putting all his cards on the table.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sara smiled, lifting her feet off her son and moving onto her knees between her son's legs.

Simon stared at her, his expression one of disbelief, as his fantasy came to fruition. Wanting to make her work for it, even though he had already made his undeniable sexual lust for her obvious, stammered, "M-m-mommy what are you doing?"

Sara thought to herself, 'the little mother-fucker is trying to make me work for it'. She put her hand directly on his cock and said, "Tonight, son, I am your Mommy-slut, and you're my Master."

Even though Simon was confident that he would have his mother tonight, hearing the words out of her mouth was still shocking, He stammered, this time for real, "Y-y-you're sure."

"Baby, I have never been so sure of anything in my whole life," Sara purred, as she outlined his cock with her fingers. "Just tell your Mommy-slut what to do."

His cock was awkwardly positioned inside his pants and he made his first order to his beautiful mother. "Pull out my cock, Mommy-slut."

"Yes, Master," Sara eagerly agreed, her eyes never leaving her son's as she fished out his cock.

"I've fantasized about this for so long," he moaned, as soon as her hand was wrapped around his stiff member.

"Me too, Master," she admitted, as she stroked and stared, his cock even bigger than she had imagined. It was even bigger than her husband's eight inch cock. She cooed, "It's the biggest cock I have ever seen, Master."

"Too big for you to handle?" he asked, his girlfriend Kim never able to take it all in her mouth.

"Only one way to find out" she smiled playfully up at him as she leaned forward and took his cock in her mouth.

"Oh, God," Simon moaned, the sensation of her lips wrapped around his cock amazing and surreal. Years of fantasy culminating into a shocking reality that was too good to be true.

She couldn't believe she had her son's cock in her mouth. She wanted to be a good slut, even better than his girlfriend Kim. She swirled her tongue around his mushroom top, teasing him like she had her husband.

He moaned in awe while looking down and watching his mother with his cock in her mouth.

Sara slowly took more of Simon's big cock in her mouth, intently determined to take all nine inches in her mouth, even though she had never had more than eight in the past. Hearing the soft moans from her son only enhanced her eagerness as each downward bob took more and more of his cock in her mouth. After a couple of minutes she was bobbing up and down on over six inches, eager to eventually take in all nine inches in her mouth.

Simon moaned, Kim just bobbed back and forth taking only a couple of inches in her mouth before wanting to get fucked. But his mom was treating his cock with focused attention and Simon knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He warned, "I'm going to come soon, Mommy-slut."

Sara wanting to taste his cum, wanting to swallow his full load, and still wanting to devour all nine inches in her mouth, began bobbing faster. She had over seven inches in her mouth when he grunted and unloaded an excessive load of his cum into her mouth.

She continued bobbing, swallowing every drop of his sweet seed.

Simon had his best orgasm ever and couldn't believe how the pleasure continued to course through him as his mom continued servicing his cock.

She finally took his cock out of her mouth and said, wanting to stay in the role of submissive, "Thank you, Master."

"Get undressed, Mommy-slut," Simon ordered, another fantasy of his to see in the flesh those voluptuous tits that she had showcased so well in her tight teasing outfits all these years.

"You want to see Mommy's tits?" Sara asked playfully, as she stood up.

"I want to see all my new playthings," Simon responded, enjoying playing the role of dominant, in charge man.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Sara purred, as she took her dress off, allowing her son to see her erect nipples, big tits and shaved pussy.

Simon smiled, "Delicious, even better than I could have imagined."

Cupping her tits together, she offered, "Well Master, they are yours to play with as you wish."

"And I love that shaved cunt of yours, Mommy-slut," Simon added, wondering what it would taste like.

"It's yours too, Master," she replied, giving, without hesitation, her body, mind and soul to him.

"I want you to fuck yourself Mommy-slut, but be creative, you can't use your fingers or toys," Simon said, wanting to see just how slutty his mother could be.

Sara loved just how naughty her son thought, but decided to outwit him, as she walked over to him, straddled him and lowered herself onto his cock.

"Hey!" Simon protested. "That is cheating."

"It's not a toy or my fingers," the sly mother pointed out, leaning forward so her tits were in his face.

"Fair enough," Simon chuckled, the feeling of his mom riding him another fantasy come true. He sucked and nibbled on his mother's big tits as she slowly rode him.

Sara was in utter euphoria as she enjoyed just slowly riding his cock. A real cock inside her felt amazing and she couldn't fathom how she had allowed herself to have gone so long without it.

After a few minutes of slow riding, Simon quit playing with his mom's tits and ordered, "On the couch and spread your legs, Mommy-slut."

"You don't like your mommy-slut riding you?" Sara pouted teasingly.

"Oh Mother, you will be riding it daily, but I have bigger plans for you tonight," he answered, as she got off his cock.

"How long have you been planning this night?" Sara asked.

"Since I understood I had a cock and you a cunt," he answered truthfully, before adding, "but the plan really took off when I fixed your computer."

"Pardon?" she asked, shocked by his words.

"Mom, I know all about your online activity," he revealed. "I assumed you wanted me to find out when you gave me your computer."

"Oh God!" Sara gasped, suddenly embarrassed, which was rather ludicrous considering she had just swallowed a load of her son's cum.

"Kimlovescunt and MasterJohn," Simon listed off. "Very intriguing reading."

"Y-y-you read those?" Sara asked, stunned.

"They were very hot. But the most interesting one was makingmommymine," Simon revealed.

Sara was shocked, briefly angry that he had violated her privacy, but then it quickly dissipated at the realization that it had led to this. So she responded, "So you took advantage of your mother's sexual secrets to make her your slut?"

"Is that wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Is this wrong?" she asked, grinning, dropping back to her knees and taking his cock back in her mouth.

"Some would say it is sick, twisted, immoral and illegal," he answered, as he grabbed her head and began fucking her face. "But I would say it is the most natural thing in the world."

After a few deep throat thrusts, that she handled with only a slight gag, he pulled out, and looking down at his beautiful, submissive, mother, added, "By the way, I'm makingmommymine."

"No!" Sara gasped again. As the full breadth of how she was played and manipulated came to light.


"And you're submissivemom," Simon added.

"That I am," she smiled, figuring how she was manipulated not really relevant considering she choose to obey.


"It was pretty hot when you kissed me with your pussy juice on your lips," he added. "You are a very bad, bad Mommy."

Sara was somehow even more turned on at the thought that her son had orchestrated all this. She asked, talking all sexy and pouty, looking up at her Master, "Are you going to punish your bad Mommy?"

"On the couch and spread those legs, Mommy-slut," he repeated the order that had been delayed with his revelations.

"Yes, Master," she agreed, getting up, sitting on the couch and spreading her legs as wide as she could.

"I'll be right back," he said, a nasty plan popping into his head.

She watched him walk away, curious what her deviant son had in mind. Her cunt was burning for attention and her mind was spinning with consequence.

He returned with her phone.

She looked at him perplexed as he walked over to her and without a word slid the phone inside her cunt. "Whaaaat are you doing?" Sara asked, surprised again.

"Putting a phone in your cunt," he answered, taking her question literally.

"But why?" she asked, wanting his cock in her badly.

"You'll see," he smiled as he grabbed his phone from the table.

Sara instantly realized what he was about to do. Seconds later her phone started ringing and vibrating inside her. She moaned loudly, "Ohhhhhh."

"Ohhhh what?" he asked.

"Ohhhh you dirty boy," she teased, as the strange pleasure vibrated inside her.

After a couple more rings, he asked, "Are you going to get that?"

Sara moaned, as her orgasm began to rise, "No, I think I'll just let it ring and ring."

Simon watched, knowing his mom was close before hanging up.

"Nooooo," she whimpered, frustrated at how close she was to an orgasm.

He said, his tone suddenly firm, "Mommy-sluts only come when given permission. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," she reluctantly agreed, turned on by her son's dominant persona, but frustrated at his not letting her cum.

Simon put his phone down and was coming to get the phone in Sara's cunt when it began ringing again.

"You tease," she moaned.

"That isn't me," he admitted as he laughed.

"Should I get it?" she asked, the vibrations again building her long needed orgasm.

"I think you should," he answered. "It may be someone important."

"I'm with the most important person in my world," Sara replied, trying to delay answering the phone call.

"Answer it!" he ordered.

She awkwardly pulled the phone out of her cunt. When it was out she couldn't believe how sticky with cum it was. She looked at him and said, "It's wet."

"Answer it!" he repeated.

Looking at the number she gasped, "It's nana."

"Answer it!" Simon demanded.

"Fine," she said, pressing answer. "Hi, Mother."

Simon immediately moved to his mother and buried his face in her very wet cunt.

Glenda, Sara's mother, responded, "Hi, honey. What's new?"

She wanted to answer, 'I just became a Mommy-slut for your grandson', but instead replied, "Not much, just spending a pleasant evening home alone with Simon."