Ms. Carter and Miss Candy

Brief Description:

A teacher and her son become ensnared into a love triangle with the school bully. Things get... complicated.

A nice, NonConsent/Reluctance - Incest/Taboo - Transgender & Crossdresser - Mature - Anal - Fetish kind of story.

All characters in this story are 18+.

NonConsent/Reluctance, Incest/Taboo, Mature

Moral Bankruptcy

Mitch left shortly after dinner, even though we tried to get him to stay. Jessie and I cuddled on the couch watching a movie and went to our respective beds early. Somehow, it had been an exhausting day.

I woke up in the middle of the night and looked at the clock. It was almost 4:00am. There was a light coming from Russell's bedroom. From the sounds I could tell he was masturbating and having difficulty with it. I got out of bed and went to see what his issue might be.

My son was sitting there with his door wide open and headphones on, trying to masturbate to the DVD that Mitch had left us—the one that showed me sucking Russell and his friends' cocks at a gloryhole between the girls' and boys' locker rooms at school. Looking at his lap, I saw that Russell was limp and trying desperately - painfully - jerking himself to get hard.

I moved quietly across his room and placed my hands on his shoulders. Russell jumped and tried to stand up, but I held him firmly in place. He twisted and his wheeled desk chair slid out from under him and across the room. It toppled over when it went off the floor mat and hit the carpet.

"Mom, I—" my son protested, but I pressed my lips firmly to his. We couldn't use our tongues, since our piercings were still healing, but we kissed as I silenced his protests. He removed his headphones and stood up properly to face me. I wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling his body pressed against my own.

"Shhh," I told him as we broke the kiss. I turned him back to the computer monitor. On the screen Russell's mother was sucking off one of his friends.

"Your mother isn't here right now," I whispered into his ear, as I pressed the front of my body against him from behind.

"Candy?" he asked. I reached down his abs with both hands, wrapping one hand firmly around his limp dick while my other hand gently cupped his balls.

"You mother is right there in front of you," I said, "she's a respectable teacher caught sucking off a student in that gloryhole." His cock hardened slightly as I spoke. I felt the curves of his body against my own.

"What do you think of when you see her like that?" I asked softly, whispering into his ear. "Do you see a mature woman desperate for cock? Do you see a proud woman succumbed to blackmailers? Do you see a wanton whore waiting to pleasure you?" Russell got harder and harder, reaching a full erection.

"I see the love of my life," Russell said, "that I desperately wanted to fuck."

I processed this silently, fondling my son's balls, stroking my son's cock, thinking about his feelings and my own.

"Then take me, instead," I whispered. I let go of him and walked to his bed. He followed. I turned to face him, then sat down. He knelt and kissed my lips - the lips on my face. He reached forward and caressed my breasts. He turned his head and nibbled at my ear and planted kisses on my neck. Then he moved his hands to my shoulders and guided me to lay down.

Russell climbed into his bed atop me. I spread myself open to him, but he just ran his hands along the curves of my body and kissed my breasts. He gently bit my nipples. I gasped out in the most pleasant pain.

"We've started something that can only end one way," I told him, while he planted kisses at my navel.

"We could still stop it," my son said to me. I doubt I could've stopped even if I wanted. That didn't matter. I desperately did not want to stop.

"It's just a matter of time anyway," I said, given the same excuse I used after I sucked his cock for the first time, "it's only practical that we—" My voice cut off when his mouth found my cunt. I didn't cry out or scream, like when Mitch gave me oral pleasure; Somehow, I enjoyed what Russell was doing much more.

"I'm going to fuck you now," I remembered Mitch saying after he ate my pussy into oblivion. While my son used his lips and tongue to pleasure me, I fantasized about the man who was blackmailing us both.

"I need you inside me now," I whispered. Russell brought his face to my own and kissed me on the lips. I could taste how wet I was, or maybe I could just smell it from his mouth.

"I need you inside me now," I whispered again. Russell positioned his body above my own and lined up his sex with my own. I felt the tip of his cock press against the slit of my pussy.

"I need you inside me now," I whispered one more time. Russell slid his hardened erection smoothly inside me. He lingered with just the mushroom tip inside the entrance to my womanhood.

"Yes," I whispered. In one long, slow thrust he methodically penetrated deeper and ever deeper into me.

"Yes," I said. He pulled out with patience and let me feel the emptiness that he alone could fill.

"Yes," I cried out. He pistoned his manhood from the depths of my pussy to the entrance of my womanhood. Never painfully deep. Never slipping out by accident. The tip of my tongue pressed hard against my upper teeth.

Mitch had fucked me with the passion of a thousand suns.

My son made love to me with the passion of a thousand lovers.

Even after he came into my barren womb, my son kept thrusting until I had one last soul-crushing orgasm. Then he collapsed on the bed next to me. We cuddled together until long after the sun rose.

-----

There were no alarms this morning. If I had any messages, my phone was charging on the bedside table of my room. When I woke up Thursday, my Russell was still holding me in his arms, sound asleep. I looked around and noticed the computer was still on - the DVD playing on my loop. I watched myself sucking my son off at that gloryhole and waited until he came. I reached down and started to slowly stroke the cock next to me until Russell woke up.

Before we could kiss or go for another round we heard a knock at the front door. Mitch's knock wasn't distinctive, we had confused it once before for someone else. My son and I climbed out of his bed. I entered my room long enough to wrap myself in a housecoat. He pulled on a pair of gym shorts. Together, we walked down the hallway. I stood to the side and let Russell answer the door.

"Dude," his friend, Thomas, greeted my son. "Where have you been?" Behind Thomas was standing his other friends - Keith and Mark. Mark had his arm in a cast. I strolled back down the hallway and debated whether to shower before I got dressed.

I decided to take a nice, long, hot, and relaxing shower, while Russell figured out what to do about his friends.

-----

I finally checked my phone after a long shower.

Master - School's Closed. Enjoy Your Day Off.

At least that explained why Thomas, Keith, and Mark were in my house instead of at school. That didn't explain why they were at my house, or why 'Master' hadn't sent any new instructions for the day.

I also saw that I missed some messages from a girl named 'Anna' early this morning. She identified herself as Thomas' sister and warned me that she had heard him talking with his friends. She said they were planning on stealing a laptop so they could fuck me. She sounded very worried. I sent her a polite response thanking her for the information and saying that I would take care of it. Instead of asking me for details, she just asked that I not tell anyone that she warned me.

A thought occurred to me. What if I wasn't the first one these boys harassed and blackmailed? What if they didn't just happen to find compromising photos of me and committed a crime of opportunity? What if they had started with other girls, other students, and only later worked up the confidence to try this on a teacher?

I considered this while I was getting dressed. Neither 'Teach' nor 'Miss Candy' today; I got dressed in a relaxed look of high-waisted jeans and a long shirt, plus the usual underwear, shoes, and such. I didn't bother with make-up. I didn't have to impress anyone today. I made sure the shirt was long enough and dark enough to cover my tattoo, then sauntered out my bedroom door to confront my would-be rapists.

As I walked down the hall, I heard three of them talking about the tits on some girl in the latest video game everyone was playing. From the hallway, I could see Russell standing in the kitchen—fully dressed, thankfully—looking down at his feet. His eyes looked up to see me, and the conversation in the kitchen abruptly stopped.

I entered the kitchen with carefree confidence. I was feeling good today. Last night I had done the most horrible thing imaginable—fucking my own son—and it was one of the best experiences of my life. I wasn't about to broadcast a tape of it, but I felt indestructible. I felt that foolish invincibility that is usually reserved for those too young and ignorant to be aware that life has consequences.

"Hello boys," I greeted them, as I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. "What nefarious schemes are you plotting today?" It was a harmless joke, with just the right edge of painful reality.

The trio was sitting around my kitchen table, with Mark at the head, Thomas on the near side, and Keith on the far side. They didn't laugh. They just looked around at each other. Two of them settled on looking at Mark. Mark looked at me. Russell stood off to the side trying to vanish into the wallpaper.

"We wanted to come by and apologize for that, Ms. Carter," Mark spoke with the right amount of confidence and feigned regret to indicate he had practiced this speech many times. "We don't know what came over us, or how we let our behavior get so out of control. We all agree it was wrong and hope you can forgive us."

I took a sip of my coffee. They were probably expecting me to forgive and forget, but I couldn't help noticing their apology didn't include an apology. Maybe a day earlier, I would have been cowed into forgiving their 'boys will be boys mistake' and let them run all over me; but today, I was carefree and confident.

"Um, we know about your current situation," Mark started a new tactic. Practiced, but not as well rehearsed as his phony apology. I looked at Russell, who shook his head. Russell hadn't told him anything about that. "We could figure it out," Mark continued, "we know that Mitch is holding some sort of control over you and Russ. We've been talking and have a plan. We can fix this."

I set down my cup of coffee. I couldn't decide whether this was unbelievable, or completely predictable. They got caught coercing their teacher into lewd sexual acts, and their solution was to play the heroes of the story. Save her and her son from the nasty bully. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, cry, or throw my coffee in their faces. I remembered the messages from 'Anna' and knew this was part of some demented plot to let them all fuck me.

"No thanks, boys," I said. "You really don't understand the situation at all."

"No, really, Ms. C," Thomas interjected, finally turning his head to face me. "It's a foolproof plan," he continued, "we just need to get our hands on Mitch's laptop and then Keith can do his magic and—"

"No," I said, more firmly, "you boys talked, I listened. Now it's your turn to listen."

"Let's start with your faux apology," I directed this at Mark. "You never asked for my forgiveness, you never actually apologized, you never admitted what you did wrong, and you only maybe barely accepted that what you four did was a felony."

"I can only assume you don't understand the seriousness of what you did," I continued, not giving them a chance to interrupt me. "This wasn't some accident like an errant baseball breaking a window. You plotted; you planned; you coerced; you manipulated; and you forced a woman—ME—to perform sex acts with each of you, against her will."

"Legally," I was really getting fired up now, "That Is Rape. Don't sugar coat it as some honest mistake, or merely boys will be boys. It Was Rape. Each and every one of you conspired and participated in raping me. Maybe you didn't use violence, but you threatened to ruin my life, my career, and bullied me into submission just as much as if you had held me down with a knife to my throat." They started to object. Thomas tried to stand up.

"SIT DOWN," I commanded, with over a decade of teaching experience. "You got way out of line and the very fucking least you can do right now is listen." I paused to catch my breath and remember what I was saying. The three of them remained seated and shut their damn fool mouths for once.

"Now you come here and tell me," I remembered my words, "that you know all about the way your plan resulted in ruining my life. That wasn't your intention—you boys just planned to use me for sexual favors whenever you wanted—but someone else got involved and took your precious blackmail material away from you. You think that he's got it now." Mark raised an eyebrow at that last statement. "You think you can ride over here on a white horse, tell me about your terrific plot to steal a laptop, put on your shining armor, and maybe get another blowjob from the dumb, cum-sucking teacher with great tits."

"So, let me tell you a little secret," I softened my voice conspiratorially, "that precious blackmail footage that you wanted to get back for me? It's locked up here in my house." They didn't expect that. Even Russell looked at me with disbelief.

"Yeah," I continued, "he gave it to me. I haven't decided what to do with it, but that's none of your business, any more than it is his." Of course, I was only referring to the documents from the court records. Dear Lord, how had they even gotten their hands on those? How many other people could be blackmailed if they were able to just steal private, confidential, sealed records from some archives?

"Of course, I know what you're thinking," I resumed, "but what if he kept copies on his laptop? As if each of you don't have the photos stored electronically as well. I saw the images you sent me when this all started; they were scans, not photos of photographs. One of you used a scanner to copy all the documents. I'm guessing you showed them around to the others and let them copy them as well." I paused. Thomas, Mark, and Russell looked away guiltily. Keith was the only one who looked at me.

"Just the four of us," Keith said. "We didn't want to risk letting those pictures get out."

"Of course not," I said. "The more people that knew about them, the more people who saw or heard about them, the less leverage you had over me." Even Keith looked away now.

"Let me tell you something else," I said. "You're not nearly as clever as you thought. I have some sources of my own, and at least one of them warned me that you boys were still plotting ways to fuck me. So, I'm guessing you want to play the heroes and get your leverage over me back." Keith looked startled at the other three. Mark and Thomas were clearly guilty. I couldn't tell if Russell was looking guilty for that, or a thousand other things.

"I didn't know anything about that," Keith said, "you guys didn't tell me about that."

"Not that it really matters much anymore," I told them, "It wouldn't have worked. You can only push someone so far before they break. If you tried anything more after the gloryhole, or try anything else after this, we all go away in handcuffed-motherfucking-hand. I doubt this is the first time you've had plans to use and abuse some girl, but it's the last. If I ever hear anything like this happening with any of you," I looked up to make sure Russell knew I was talking about him, too, "I'll go to the cops and take my chances. Hell, I might have already written my own confession and accusations and placed it somewhere it will be found if something happens to me."

"I'll get it," I said, when there was a knock at the front door, "you boys stay put. I'm not done with you." I left the room and opened the door for Mitch.

"Russell's friends are here," I told him, then looked at him seriously, "Just remember that this is my house, my rules. You don't do shit unless I tell you." Mitch shrugged and followed my lead.

"What is he doing here?" Mark squealed when the two of us entered the kitchen.

"That's none of your goddamn business," I was really letting the profanity fly today—something I never did in school. I hoped that emphasized the seriousness of what I was saying.

"It's almost time for you three to leave," I stated frankly, "but I want to give you one more piece of advice before you go. Empathy. Before you decide to do something even more stupid like heroically fall on your sword, confess your sins to your parents or the police, or steal someone else's property—think about someone other than yourself.

"Think about whether what you are about to do is going to improve my life or just make you feel better somehow.

"Think about the consequences of your actions—not just for yourself, but for everyone else involved.

"And most importantly, think about consent. Don't risk making someone else's life a living hell without their permission and approval."

"Understood?" I finished. There were three low murmurs of "Yes, Ms. Carter" and one "Yes, Mom."

"Fine," I told them. "The three of you can leave."

"Wait, no!" Mark was staring at Mitch with terror. Mark tried to stand up from his chair but slipped and sat back down. "We can't leave you alone with him!" I looked over at Mitch to see if he was going to try some 'what are you going to do about it, punk?' male bravado. Instead, Mitch just stood there calmly with his arms at his sides. Mitch's body was all tense muscles. He was clearly ready for a fight, but he wasn't going to start one and so far he was doing what I had asked of him.

"What is he doing here?" Keith asked, more placidly. "I wouldn't want to leave you in danger. Especially after..." Keith said, "ya'know."

"Lunch," Mitch said coldly. It almost sounded like a threat.

"It's okay," Russell said, stepping away from the wall and facing his friends, "I'll tell them." Mitch was already tense and ready for a fight. I felt my own muscles tighten and wondered which side I should be on if a fight did break out.

"Guys," Russell said to his friends, "you all remember Jason, right?"

"Jason the faggot—" Thomas started to say. Mitch and I were ready for a fight. I hadn't even realized my son was planning on starting one. In one blindingly fast motion, he grabbed Thomas by the head and slammed him face down into our kitchen table. There was a sharp cracking sound from the hard wood, the hard skull, or both.

"Exactly," Russell said, with a completely calm voice. He was still holding Thomas' head with both hands and holding the boy face down on the table. Mark and Keith had no clue what was going on, but they both suddenly felt outnumbered.

"Jason never found anyone he could talk to," Russell continued, "at least not anyone who wouldn't use their knowledge as leverage against him, then broadcast it all over the school." I remembered the kid they were talking about. I never had him as a student. He committed suicide during his freshman year.

"Dude," Mark asked quietly, "what are you saying?"

"Mitch is a bully and an asshole," Russell started. If Mitch was upset by this then he didn't let it show. "But he's someone I can talk to about things," Russell continued, "some things that I'm going through. Some things that I don't think I could tell you guys about without being judged, humiliated, or exploited."

"Let's go," Keith interrupted, "Russ is right. Ms. Carter is right. We shouldn't be here."