----Author's note----
This story is heavily influenced by the works of George VI and others. If you enjoy this, I encourage you to go on and read their stories. The writing below includes themes such as: forced exhibitionism, abuse of authority, reluctance, embarrassment, mild incest, strip searching, etc. These themes, placed in a realistic setting with developed characters, are rare and it is my hope that this work will inspire others to follow and create their own content, be it written or recorded.
All characters are 18 or older.
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Ch.1
Bill
When the bitch's son messaged me, I wasn't surprised. It was a long time coming. I saw the way he looked at her during that morning weeks ago. And I saw the way he continued to look at her when Paul delighted in opening that door to our little private screening room. When he took the bait during the mall shopping extravaganza, well, that was no surprise either. So, of course, the morning Parker messaged me on this fine Tuesday, I had a response at the ready.
It was time to hand Melissa off, for now. I had fucked her more times than most. This last Friday when she came to me from the high school is when I first felt the threat of boredom. I took her mouth, I've taken her ass, her pussy I can see at night in crystal clarity. Her submission was a chore now and she was so detached from my own pleasures that I had found it hard to feel them either. Like I said, time to hand her off.
This was Parker's message:
"I know I'm in no position to ask favors, but I've helped you when you needed it. You know, and now I can't get enough. Mom dresses every day to work in the outfits that I'm sure you see, that I see, but I don't get to see more than that like you do. And I don't get to do more than see, like you do. Can you help me? What should I do? Tell me what to do and I'll do it."
He really was a wuss, wasn't he? Like a beggar he asks me for a favor. What can I say, I'm generous with my woman and I admit the thought of a son wanting his own mom, Melissa, the mother I control for all intents and purposes, well, it turns me on. Gets me hard. So, I responded with kindness.
"In your locker, there will be a phone. Text your mom from that phone and she will think it's from me. Till we meet again."
Paul was pissed when he came back from his vacation and found Melissa gone. I told him to calm down, there will be future opportunities. She's not gone, she's just in another cock's hands. And we'll see her again, this I said to comfort him but I knew there was truth in it too. She won't be gone forever.
Parker
My guilt subsided quickly, replaced by an insatiable hunger. There would be days when mom would go to work dressed in a knit cotton black dress that hugged her curves. Underneath it was obvious she was braless. Her nipples would harden in the cold classroom air. Despite her outfit, she was careful enough to make her actions as modest and as prude as possible. Most of her class she sat behind her desk now, blocking our view. She may as well have been wearing jeans and a winter coat.
Those days I would go home and jack off to the video, the video that I've clicked on more times than I could count. The video that showed my mother frisked, groped, strip searched and fucked. I fantasized daily of being that police officer, getting to use my mom in the ways I know he was. I had guessed at this point, after the shopping mall incident, that those late nights at work weren't really at work.
For a short while, the relationship between mom and I was normal. I put on a good show in front of her, comforted her, pretended like I was there for her. But a couple days after the mall trip, and after that night's guilt died, I realized I could get away with more. What was she going to do?
It started when she came home late at night, dad was in the TV room, and I was in the kitchen. She asked me how my day was with as much normalcy as she could muster, but I noticed that it had been a rough evening. Her hair was disheveled and I could see dried tears on her blushed cheeks. I asked her, "are you okay, mom?" as I got up to give her a hug.
She hugged me back, pressing her tits against my chest. It was an almost an accident when I let my hand wander down from her back and onto the curve of her ass. She flinched and started to pull away from our embrace. But I felt a twang of submission in her movements, like she wasn't certain if she was allowed to pull away. So I didn't let her. I held her to me and groped her ass, squeezing each cheek with both hands now.
"Parker, WHAT are you doing? Stop it right now," she said in that motherly tone of hers as she tried to break our embrace. I didn't stop. And I didn't say anything back. I just held her tight and worked my hands around her soft ass, letting my fingers tease her crack. She was wearing a soft cotton skirt. I thought of pulling it up, but decided that would be too much too fast.
"No," I said with a quiet power.
"Parker, stop it right now, or... Or I will call your father," she continued.
"No you won't. You will stay right here and you won't say a thing."
"Parker, what's wrong with you. I... I will..." she said meekly. I could feel her submission. Her body relaxed its fight as I held her to me.
"Goodnight mom" I said with a smile as I let go of her. Her face was downcast and she looked like she was about to cry again. But this time my guilt was gone and I admit in myself I felt a certain pride. I kept my smile, turned away, and slapped her ass. She jumped and let in a sharp inhale.
The next morning my mom came into my room as I was getting ready for school.
"Parker, sit down. We need to talk about last night," she said with assurance. I could tell that submissive state I caught in her the evening before was gone and she was my mom again and she was in control. I sat down, my eyes on the floor.
"Don't you EVER try to pull a stunt like that again. You hear me? I didn't tell your father, but believe me I will. Look at me, Parker"
I was shacking with nerves. I tried to look in her eyes, but I couldn't. Hell, I was scared.
"I'm sorry mom, I feel so..."
"I don't care what you feel. I didn't raise you to treat women like that. You do that again and your father and I will make it a certainty that you do not leave this room for the rest of the year. I will homeschool you myself if I have to. Do you understand?"
I sniffled in a tear.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"Yes, mom, I'm so..."
She caught me off with a slam of my bedroom door as she walked out. Her car fired up not a short moment later and she was gone to work, still wearing one of the outfits I encouraged her to buy.
I had to do something and do something fast. So I contacted Bill. He replied quicker than I expected with an idea that seemed foolproof enough. In my school locker I would find the phone that he was using to contact mom. With that phone, I could pretend to be him. She listened to Bill, this I knew well, and so she would have to listen to me. Sure enough, after lunch, I found the phone.
That evening mom came home early from school. She told dad over dinner that all those late evenings at work were done and she finally had a break from her responsibilities. Bill must have let her go. As for me, well, she didn't look at me once.
At night, when I knew she expected me to be fast asleep, I took out the phone that Bill gave me. Time for a test. I texted her, "Tomorrow, wear that black sweater dress and a pair of red lace panties." I heard her phone buzz from her bedroom. Her reply was immediate.
"I thought I don't have to come in tomorrow?"
What would Bill say? I thought back to the video, thought back to the strip search incident so long ago now, and responded with "Don't you ever talk back to me bitch. Say 'yes, sir.'"
A "yes, sir," lit up my phone. I felt on top of the world and my sleep was ridden with anxious desire.
The next morning I walked downstairs to a sight that made me grin like the grinch. Mom was wearing the black sweater dress. Her face was turned away, busying herself with dishes. I said a good morning drenched with pleasantry and kindness. She ignored me but it was no matter -- my head was busy scheming.
During class, mom was instructing us as always behind her desk. I needed to change that.
"From now on, sit on your desk instead of behind it," I texted her discreetly, my hand buried in my pockets, my thumb fingering the message on the old keypad Nokia.
"Excuse me for one second," mom told the class as her eyes looked down towards her lap. Then her face darted up. She scanned the classroom, let out a huff, and then continued lecturing from her textbook. She hadn't moved. I gently glanced down at Bill's phone.
"yes, sir" it said. THAT BITCH. She was lying to my face. I quickly texted back, my eyes staring into my mom's downcast face as she read from the book.
