A few words from the author.
This is the second of a multi-part story about my nephew and me. But it's about a lot more than incest as he took control of me and made me his submissive as well as his mistress. I have posted it in the Mind Control section as that was what Neil mostly influenced and controlled, my mind. But I'm not sure that's where it should really be, maybe BDSM, Incest or even Erotic Couplings might be more apt? If, after reading it, you have any suggestions on where it should be posted they would be most welcome as, indeed, would any comments either positive or negative.
Just a little warning. My style is very much slow build up and that's particularly the case with this series and definitely so with this part. So if you're after 'wham bang ma'am' stuff then pass this by,
Enjoy with love from,
Jayne xx
AKA westjayne495
Thankfully, I hardly saw Neil until early the next evening as during the day I was playing golf and I had wangled him a ticket to watch Arsenal the football team he and his dad supports. As we prepared and ate our own breakfasts it was as if nothing had happened the previous evening and he was back to being the charming young man he had been up to then. I could hardly believe it.
I'd woken with a bit of groggy head and considered pulling out of golf but didn't want to let the other three down so I struggled on. The way I played made me wish I had called off but at least the near five hours in the fresh air blew the cobwebs away. Not only had I been suffering from too much wine the night before but also I hadn't had sufficient sleep and I had some weighty things on my mind.
By the time I had finished masturbating after the episode with Neil, it was almost two and I had woken up at four still in my thong and holdups and surprisingly also my heels. That reminded me of a fling I had with the head of our agency in Vienna who had persuaded me into bed on our second assignation wearing my heels. That had seemed fairly sexy at the time, but this morning waking up with one shoe on and the other lost in the bed somewhere, after what had gone on with Neil and what I had fantasised about as I brought myself off, wearing them in bed felt rather sordid and demeaning.
I couldn't get the events of last night out of my mind with possibly the most worrying one being after I had gone to bed. Feeling the need to masturbate was not a very frequent activity and although, of course, I indulged occasionally, that I did last night feeling so aroused from what my nephew and I had got up to earlier and was imagining him and I doing, really knocked me back. Like most golfers I always have an excuse for a poor round but this morning I had a really big one and in spades.
I was quite dreading going home but also was partly looking forward to it. I had convinced myself that his behaviour last night had probably been a one off triggered by drink and that nothing more along those lines would happen. But deep down I wasn't convinced and not only did I suspect more might happen but also a tiny part of me wanted it to. The big dilemma with that part was just what more meant? The grown up, sensible and responsible part of me couldn't really speculate about going any further. However, the other part of me, the rather red-blooded woman that I usually kept under wraps other than at work where I was a confident but nice tyrant and perfectionist, wondered whether anything like what had happened in my imagination last night as I rubbed my clit and squeezed my breasts might take place.
I was wearing a light blue skort, which effectively is a skirt with a gusset so that we don't flash all our lady bits as we bend over when playing golf, with a white, sleeveless tank top and pale blue Ralph sweater draped around my shoulders. Obviously my legs were bare up to about ten inches above my knees where the skort ended but I was wearing low socks that barely reached up to my ankles and I'd replaced my golf shoes with a pair of Nike trainers. On the thirty or so minutes' drive home I was thinking, 'I hope he's out, I don't want to see him,' only for that to be almost immediately replaced with 'I hope he's in I can't wait to see him,' with the latter being accompanied by a tingling throughout my lower body and heaviness in my breasts.
He had a key to the house and I had been able to wangle him a car from the agency's pool so I saw that he was home as I pulled into the drive at just after six. I was surprised at him being home so soon but glancing at my phone I saw that the Arsenal game had kicked off at midday. As I opened the door he walked into the hallway and greeted me. He looked good in fairly tight, blue jeans and a tee with bare feet which I always find sexy. At first it was as if nothing untoward had happened between us.
As we sat in the kitchen in almost the very places we had last night I could hardly believe that he had asked to see my boobs, complimented me on my ass, held my hand and pushed his erection against me. It seemed so outrageous and unlikely that momentarily I wondered if I'd imagined it. For around half hour or so as he told me about the Emirates Stadium and his favourite team Arsenal, he seemed to be a different person, a more normal one and the nephew I had remembered from years ago. We agreed to have a take away meal and discussed just what we should order deciding on Thai which we both liked. With dinner agreed we had a glass of wine and he asked about my golf, told me he had played a bit back in Massachusetts with me suggesting he should come to my club and have a round. It was then that the mood changed as he immediately came back with, "Mmmm playing around with you would be great Jayne."
I wasn't quite sure that he even realised the double entendre at first but as I stared at him and said quite sharply "What did you say," he got it and flashed his very engaging smile at me.
"And yes in more ways than one."
"Don't start that again."
"Why not, it's just the two of us isn't it? No one else is here are they."
"That's not the point."
"Not what point?"
"Us."
"What do you mean us, what about us?"
"Us doing anything, you did enough last night," I reminded him standing up and walking across the room away from where he was seated on a stool by the island.
Looking at me he didn't say anything for a moment or two. As wild and racy images from my masturbation went through my mind, I could see that the conversation was going down a dangerous route and I realised that I wasn't handling it very well as I was losing control of it. When nervous, perhaps in an important presentation, I am sometimes like that and I ramble a little for a while but generally sharpen up pretty quickly. Now though the nervousness and rambling were happening but not the sharpening up. Verbally I knew full well that he was outgunning me.
"Did I? Not so sure there Jayne, I don't think I did at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Well my recollection is that you suggested we go to bed and I turned you down."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"What, you didn't turn me down?"
"No, er yes, look stop it Neil, you're starting again."
"Starting what?"
