Cath Ober Ch 01

The Author, Cath Ober, asserts the moral right to be recognized as the original author of this piece of Consensual Erotic Fiction involving Adults aged 18 or over.

(Ogg-copyright notice 4/12/20)

ONE - Cath's Mom

"In real life I am Catharine, "Cath" is my braver alter-ego, sort of like Catherine Guisewite in riding leathers on a Harley-Davidson." - from my bio here.

I believe that sex is a gift from "unser Gott, der Vater, der Sohn und der Heilige Geist." An eternal parent who wishes for his children to be happy, to play with and care for one another and to work through our emotions with supportive lovers who nurture us and help us grow.

We are all grown-ups here. At times we say things for effect, things that we don't mean literally. Life and love in the modern world can be complex, but it can also be simple if we make the effort to make it so. We learn by observation, repetition and by teaching others. I have been lucky in life to have had great teachers. If any of this intrigues you, check out my bio, maybe the 850 words of non-fiction there explains where my fictional stories come from. Constructive feedback is always welcomed.

I woke up early on Saturday morning and I looked at the FFA, Future Farmers of America, 1989 calendar hanging on my closet door. It was October 7th, Cath's eighteenth birthday had finally arrived. I looked at myself in the long mirror inside the closet door and combed my long light brown hair. I thought about, but rejected, the idea of changing from my ankle length red flannel nightgown before I turned off my alarm clock and walked out the door into the hallway. I was planning on making everyone breakfast.

It was nippy at five am, a mile from the Missouri River, half-way between its mouth and the State Capitol's dome. I was surprised when I heard the voices coming from my parent's bedroom. With my brother Hansel, he goes by "John" among the 'English,' away doing his military service it normally takes the three of us till 5:30 to get all the cows milked. Mom and dad had told me to sleep-in because it was my birthday.But once you get in the habit of waking at four am each morning, six o'clock - the time my alarm was set for - seems like noon.

At first I couldn't make out what they were saying, the door was pulled to. But it was an old wooden door in a house built in 1902. Things here worked - just not necessarily in the way that they had been designed to. The cast iron, flat plate, door latches didn't meet with one another anymore. But the wood was warped and it wore ten coats of paint. So, while the door remainined in place. It was far more effective at shutting off light from the room than the sound. A garbled conversation could be heard in the hallway. As I got closer I could clearly make out my father's deep voice.

He was commanding my mother to get on her knees and suck his penis.

I did not know what to think, so at first I didn't, I just continued to listen as he said to her...

"Ja, genau so." Yes, like that.

"Oh, ah... Sehr gut..." Very good...

I heard wet sounds and gurgling sounds, sighs and moans. This continued for a time, sounds that were interspersed with my father's comments to my mother.

"Das ist ein guter Sklavin." That's a good slave girl.

"Böse schmutzige Dame..." (You) nasty dirty woman...

"Du bist so eine dreckige Hure." You are such a dirty whore.

I looked through the space between the door and its frame into the room. My mother was in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel still wet from the shower. She was on her knees in the center of a predominantly red and grey rag rug. Facing to my right I could see her bare near thigh. She had her right hand lodged between her legs as her right hand held my father's naked ass. His hips were moving and his penis appeared and it disappeared from between my mother's lips in a hypnotising rhythm.

He was wearing his robe, it was wide open and mostly bunched up behind him as he fucked my mother's face. His hair was also damp from the shower but unlike moms uncovered. He rested his left hand on my mother's towel covered head and his right on her left shoulder as he said...

"Lutsch es." Suck it.

"Schwerer..." Harder, he said, as his hip movement increased.

"Schneller..." Faster...

"Schlucken Sie das nicht." Don't swallow, he said.

He was slowly stroking her head.

"Hier ist es." Here it is.

He grabbed her as he became very stiff.

"Lass mich den sehen." Let me see it.

He stepped back and she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out.

"Gut..." Good, he said.

He stepped back and used his hands to hold her robe open affording himself a good view of her as he blocked mine.

"Mach dich selbst, Hure." Do yourself, whore, he said, as he watched.

"Schneller..." Faster...

"Schwerer..." Harder...

"Ja..." Yes...

"Ja..." Yes...

"Jetzt..." Now, he said very very firmly.

On his command she arched her back and stiffened. Then she moaned a long, low moan.

"Schluck das..." Swallow it, he said.

She did, but it totally blew me away when my mother said...

"Vielen Danke, mein Meister." Thank you very much, my master.

"Ba dada dada da don don, ba dada dada da don don," my ringing cell-phone alarm woke me from my daydream with its rendition of Tchaikovsky's '1812 overture'.

It was a daydream. But, then of course it was.

I had never really witnessed my parents having sex. They kept their bedroom door closed. When I was small mom said to avoid making the bed like I was required to do until I became old enough to rise and help with the morning milking. I would never have dreamed of being so presumptuous as to open it, or even to stand outside of it and listen. But I could certainly see the whole scene unfolding in my mind. I was watching them the same way that I watched Fred and Maria repeat the scene thirty years after the fact just last night.

Ah! So, that is where the explicit dialog in my daydream came from.

The US State Department, who issued our passports, knows Fred as Gottfried Ober, my husband. They know Maria and Gertrude as a married couple as well. The Commerce Department of this beautiful Caribbean nation knows the four of us as legal residents who reside at the same address. They know our residence is the address of record for a Chartered Corporation that each of us own 25% of. God, who knows everything, knows that these things are true and so is much, much more. Fred is our husband and the three of us are his wives.

While I never watched mom and dad having sex, mom described most of the scene in my dream to me. The part about her on her knees fellating her master was quite detailed. I then described it to Fred and to Gert and to Maria. It's fun being the source of Fred's strength in an uncertain world. Just as it was fun for my mom. She was literally following Jesus' teachings while naked and on her knees before her master. Literally being the source of dad's great strength and considerable comfort. She also took the Apostle Paul's words, to always be available for our "other," to heart.

She told me this at lunch one day back in the early Summer of 1991, right after Fred came back from Iraq and we got engaged. It was her version of couples counseling, she told me about her relationship with dad. Sharing with me her experience, what worked and what didn't. So that I might learn from her experience in the bedroom just as I had learned from her experience in the kitchen and from her experience in the milking room and in the vegetable garden.

After giving me some time to digest everything and getting my feedback from our discussion, she invited both Fred and me together to a nice luncheon in town where she gave him the executive summary from our previous discussion and added her expectations for him. Basically that it was an extra Christmas just for him, that he was getting the greatest gift that ever existed and that he needed to cherish me and keep me warm, fed and in orgasmic bliss. Then we had Bavarian Schweinebraten, a tender pork shoulder roast cooked with onions and carrots. We enjoyed it with kartoffelpuffern, the light fluffy potato pancakes served with applesauce.

Meteorologists will tell you that the 118 degrees recorded in Union, a town downriver on the Missouri, back in July of '54 set a record. That may have been the hottest afternoon ever, but it was plenty hot and humid that afternoon after lunch with mom. Then it got even hotter when Fred and I were alone together afterward.

"What do you think about what your mom said today?"

"You know, they have been together 25 years and they are still happy and truly in love with one another, that speaks volumes." I replied.

"Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," I said almost before he finished asking me.

"You will be my slave?"

I tried to be all sultry and sing him the words of the song 'Sex,' penned by David Diamond, John Crawford and Terri Nunn, of 'Berlin.' But in my excitement I forgot most of the words and mutilated a few others.

"I Feel the fire, I want to feel your love inside of me, it's so right, the sound and the smell of love in my mind. I'm your toy, come and play with me, say the word now. I'm a bitch, I'm a geisha, let's make love together. Slip and slide in your wet delight, feel your blood flow, I'm your mother, I'm a one night stand, I'm a slave...

"I'm a virgin, I'm a one night stand, I'm a drug, I'm a dream divine, I'm your slave...

"I'm a goddess, I'm a whore, I'm a blue movie, I'm a slut, I'm your babe, I'm your dream divine, I'm your slut, your whore, we'll make love together, we'll make love forever and I will be your slave forever."

He responded by holding me tight and kissing me so very deeply.

I responded to his kiss with my hands and my mouth as well, but not on his mouth. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. I was so just happy.

Then later that week we talked to Gertrude and Maria. We recounted the story that my mother had told us. They were intrigued by what we said, but it seemed too simple and too idyllic. Could it possibly work in real life with real people?

"Should I show them my Master?" I said to Fred.

"Yes, slave," Fred said in a low voice. "Strip."

"Gert," I said, "could you assist me?"

She stepped over and unbuttoned my dress.

I untied the belt and my dress dropped to the floor around my feet as Maria and Gert watched me offer myself to Fred.

I was standing there in my underwear, my head was bowed and I was looking directly at his feet.

"Strip," Fred repeated.

I unhooked my bra while Maria in one swift stroke removed my panties.

"On your knees." Fred said with firm authority without raising his voice.

I knelt using my dress as my knee pads.

"Unbuckle me."

I did.

"Pull my pants down."

I unbuttoned him and dropped both his trousers and his underwear.

Fred's beautiful uncut penis stood out from his body, it was already mostly-erect.

"Roll it back."

I spit on my fingers and gently massaged the head of his penis, rolling his foreskin around. Then I used my lips and my tongue to distribute my saliva and get everything in the perfect position as I rolled it back. Kissing his extremely sensitive head as I exposed it.

"Suck it."

I did.

"Nice..."

I pushed my mouth down onto his shaft.

"Faster..."

I moved up and down on the shaft.

"Very nice..."

I licked his head on each outstroke.

"Harder..."

I pushed down hard onto him.

"Ah, yes..."

I swallowed his shaft whole, with his head poking into my throat.

"That's it..."

I came up for air then went back down.

"Harder," he said as he gripped my head.

I was working it.

"Harder," he said.

His movements into me increased.

"Faster..."

He was pushing me hard, fucking my face.

"I'm going to come," he said.

"No kidding, really?" I thought.

He held my head hard, grinding my face into him. Not permitting me to move. Not allowing me to break free. Not that I would have if I could.

"Don't swallow it," he said, as he loosened his grip.

He began stroking my head.

"I want you..."

He got stiff.

"To..."

He came.

"Let me see it," he said.

Fred stepped back just as my mother had described my father doing and I opened my mouth and I stuck my tongue out just as she had. I showed him his cum mixed with my saliva on my tongue and in my mouth. The circle of life and love was making another generational cycle.

"Very good," he said as he stepped back and looked at me.

I smiled as I closed my mouth.

"Masturbate yourself, whore, so that we may watch you." He said, as the three of them watched me

I sat on the floor and spread my legs wide so that they could watch me.

"You cannot swallow until you come," he said.

I shook my head acknowledging his order.

"Faster..."

My fingers played on my puffy, greasy labia.

"Harder..."

I was pushing on a really sensitive spot just inside of me, enjoying the intense stares of my friends as I made myself hotter and wetter as my Master had ordered me to.

"Yes," he said.

I was rolling my hand around in my pussy varying the pressure and the spot that I was applying the pressure to.

"Yes..."

I was panting, enjoying-

"Now," he said firmly.

On Fred's command I arched my back. Then like an archer, I released the grip that I had been holding on the string. I gasped, relaxed, released and I came.

"Swallow it," he said.

"Vielen Danke, mein Meister." Thank you very much, my master, I said, right after I did.

Cath 4/12/20