A Love Lie Ours

As with many of my pieces this has been written for a woman with whom I have corresponded, in this case the beautiful, sexy Linda, and aims to reflect her interests and fantasies as well as my own. She has agreed for it to be published here, for which I am most grateful. Unlike my previous stories, this has been written in the female voice so I would beg my women readers for their indulgence and their feedback on how I can improve. This isn't a short story and Linda and I intend to develop it further, so further updates will follow. All constructive criticism is welcome but this is principally written for her enjoyment. Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty! :) I hope that you enjoy.

"You've no chance Lindy," David told me with that confident smile on his face that had been turning my insides to jelly for 25 years. "It's going to be another forfeit to me." I studied the dice carefully and my heart sank, well the competitive side did, the other side fluttered with excitement at the thought of what David might prescribe as punishment. I was well behind in the count, I needed a miracle and this was the last round of the page. We'd been spending many Friday nights like this for a long time, playing Yahtzee for sexual forfeits. What can I say? There's not always a lot to do at the weekend in rural Somerset. I wasn't doing well this week, or maybe I was depending on which way you looked at it. David was certainly winning a lot and that was how, generally, we both liked it. I rolled the dice.

"Two 1s, two 2s, and a 6, not going to help you too much darling," David told me, "what are you going to keep?" I frowned, it didn't look very promising I thought as I ran my hand through my short auburn hair. Even if I went for a full house it wouldn't be enough to win. Fuck it, I had to be bold and go for 6s. I picked up the 1s and 2s and David chuckled. "Never one to play safe are you dear?" He grinned again and I smiled coquettishly back at him from beneath lowered lashes.

"You would know David," I said softly, "and I've never heard you complain." He cleared his throat slightly and that, I knew, was a little victory for me in and among all the defeats this evening. I loved that after 25 years of marriage I could still press his buttons, as he could mine. I rolled again, two 1s again, and a 4. No good. "Don't say anything," I shot at David and he put his hands up and then mimed zipping his mouth.

"My lips are sealed," he said, "though yours might not be soon," he added and I narrowed my eyes in a mock glare. I rolled the four dice once more, the final time, and got nothing of use.

"Damn," I said through gritted teeth, looking down at the traitorous white cubes. I noted the score in pencil on the sheet before raising my gaze back to my husband.

"I think I win again," he said and took my hand, raising me to my feet. I got up, a little unsteadily on a couple of glasses of red wine and rested myself against my husband's strong, broad chest. I could feel my heat starting to beat faster, wondering what might be coming next. I looked up into his eyes, his six feet suddenly seeming so much bigger than my 5'6, especially now I'd taken my heels off and strewn them across the bedroom floor. I rubbed my nylon-clad thighs together in excitement, like a cricket, the gentle hiss filling the air as I waited for him to tell me what to do next. His eyes were full of amusement and desire and I could feel him thickening in his jeans, as my tummy pressed against his groin. "As this is the last but one game and I think I'm going to win big overall," he said slowly, "I'm just going to cop a feel this time." I breathed out, not in disappointment you understand but in anticipation, I loved the feel of his big, rough hands on me which he well knew. I loved feeling possessed, owned by him and he slowly began to run his hands down my back and then back up, over my black dress with the yellow flowers on. He could feel my bra underneath the thin material and he traced his fingers along the line until he reached the cups and I gasped slightly, which was his signal to move away the teasing bastard.

Lower now, to the small of my back, the gentle pressure pushing me slightly into his and against his now definitely firm cock. I giggled softly as I felt it against me, imaging it inside me before too long. Down again over my flanks, that sensitive area just above the hips where I love to be held. He knew that and held me close for a few moments before going where I knew he really wanted, my ass. Again he traced my underwear, smiling as he did, his eyes on mine, mine on his. They were full-bottomed tonight and as he reached the defined edge and flicked his fingers to give my cheeks the tiniest jiggle. "God I love your ass, Lindy," he breathed and my mouth curved upwards.

"I'd kiss you if that was allowed in the rules," I said, "but I think that's forfeit enough. Last game now to see how gets the final forfeit. I think I know what mine will be if you win, now you've had a feel." I said, my mischievous green eyes sparkling in the dim light. Reluctantly he released me and I knelt down on the carpeted floor a few feet away from him, a perfect blowjob position had he but been closer. I smiled at him, seeing that he was thinking the same thing. "Patience darling," I said and then took up the dice again. He sat back down again too and I rolled foot the first round in our final rubber, suspecting, hoping even, that I'd lose again and be at my man's mercy once again.

I must confess to being a submissive, David has taught me that over the years. Perhaps it was natural. I was nearly 19 and he was older, 24 when we met, already worldly-wise and gainfully employed as an electrician with ready cash that he was willing to spend on me. We were married ten months after we met and I've never regretted it for a moment. He taught me so much, brought out and developed my submissive sexual nature and, most precious of all, gave me Tom, my wonderful son.

As we played that final rubber, David extending his handsome lead further, I let my mind imagine what he might have in store for me when he finally won. The blindfold? My hands tied behind my back with the thin satin belt from my dressing gown? Anal perhaps? He liked that a lot. Or might it be spanking over the knee? Yes, the way he'd felt up my bottom I suspected that might be his forfeit of choice. I smiled at the memory of the first time he'd spanked me -- our honeymoon, him taking me from behind, my ass cheeks had just been too tempting he told me. I remembered the sharp pain, the flush in both sets of cheeks and the sudden thrill that shot through me, at once both slightly shameful and exciting. Yes, I wanted that feeling again too.

I was too distracted to play well, any strategy or playing the odds effectively went out of the window as I let my mind project into the future and David won easily. He grinned triumphantly as he totted up the scores with his pencil.

"You were barely even trying that last rubber Lindy," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. I shrugged apologetically. "That's very naughty you know," he continued and I could feel my tummy do a little flip in anticipation. He was going to spank me, I knew it. He got up and moved to the end of the bed. Sitting down he tapped his knee and raised an eyebrow. "Here my girl. You know what happens to naughty girls for their forfeit."

I stood up and smoothed down my black dress. Head bowed, I approached him. Slowly I formed a tent over his thighs with my body and then lowered myself onto them, my heart hammering in my chest. "I did try darling," I whispered. "I promise." We both knew that was a lie and that I'd be punished more for it. Appreciatively David ran his hands along my form, feeling the smooth material of my dress and the still firm contours of my body beneath. I was proud to still be in good shape at 44, plenty of exercise both in and out of the bedroom certainly helped and not many of my girlfriends still had a 28-inch waist or breasts that retained much of their youthful firmness.

His hands brushed over my ass, momentarily denying himself the pleasure of what was to come, and down to the hem of my dress. Taking it in his hands he raised it up my toned thighs and over my bottom to reveal my full black knickers to him beneath my tan tights. The knickers were lacy round the front but satin in the gusset and around the back, so would be super smooth to his touch. I knew he liked that and he allowed himself the pleasure of sliding his fingers under my tights and over the material, feeling my flesh beneath. As he did so, I could feel my pussy start to leak into the gusset as I waited for that first contact of his palm against my ass cheek. Would he do it through my knickers, I wondered, or would he pull them down or off before he administered my forfeit? I didn't have to wait long to find out. I felt his fingertips tugging down my tights and my knickers until they stopped half way over my thighs. I felt the rush of cool air on my pussy lips which released further droplets of my desire.

*Smack* The crack of his palm against my ass cheek echoed around the room and I bit my red lip through my lipstick in a vain effort not to cry out. The second slap, on my other cheek, ended this vain attempt and I half groaned, half cried, "Oh fuck David, yes! I've been such a bad girl haven't I?" He chuckled as he gently rubbed my reddening cheek.

"You have my girl, very naughty indeed," he told me and bent his head to kiss my ass cheeks one by one, soothing them. "God but I love your ass Lindy," he said again. Before I could reply with something loving, he smacked me again and I jerked forward over his thighs and I could sense some of my pussy juices smearing over them into the wiry hairs there. "Ah, David...please..." I gasped.

"Please, what?" he replied and hit me again, a real stinger. I could feel the familiar hot rush of shame across my chest and in my cheeks at how much I enjoyed this and I loved it. I loved putting myself entirely at my husband's mercy, trusting him utterly, knowing he knew exactly what to do. He dipped his fingers into my pussy and then dried them on my ass cheeks and I could sense the hot, fragrant liquid acting as a strange sort of balm on my aching bottom. "Jeez, you're wet Lindy," he said with a satisfied tone, pleased at the state to which he had got me. "I think after all that teasing, I'm about ready to blow," he said, referencing the fact that one of the rules of our Friday night game was that no one was supposed to cum until the final forfeit. Anyone who did was severely punished, as had happened in some of our most memorable games. Tonight, though, we'd both held off and were both bubbling along nicely, ready to take it to the next stage.

"Please darling, just a couple of more smacks, I was super naughty after all," I pleaded and I heard that familiar amused chuckle, felt another swish of his palm against my ass and, as the pain and relief flooded through me I heard something else. A creak on the stair was it? Surely not. Tom was on a date and not due back for ages yet. It couldn't be him, I must have been imagining it. I didn't have time to think about it more for David's patience had finally run out. He lifted me off his thighs and threw me back down onto the bed. Standing over me at the end of our big double bed he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans. His undies followed soon after and there he was in all his impressive glory. He was perhaps just a little overweight these days, not keeping himself in quite as good shape as I did, but I loved those extra pounds and none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that nice big cock pointing straight at my juicy pussy. He fumbled at the buttons of his shirt in excitement.

"Leave it on," I told him, "you know I prefer it that way sometimes." I like the urgency of clothed sex sometimes, like you just can't wait to have each other and I couldn't wait for David any longer. I spread my legs for him as far as my tights and knickers allowed and parted my bald pussy lips with my fingers, while reach for him with my other hand. I guided him inside me, pushing through the feeble resistance that my sopping lips provided and deep inside me, giving me that familiar full feeling that I loved so much. I knew that neither of us would last long, so excited were we but I also knew that David was ahead of me and I needed to catch up with him fast if I were not to be left hanging on. David was a very good lover and he wouldn't leave me unsatisfied I knew but I preferred to come with him if I could. To do that, I knew just what I had to do. As he moved smoothly in and out of my building up his rhythm, I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to slip into the deepest recesses of my fantasies, the one area that I denied to David for all our open and full sex life. There, in that secret place, the man on top of me making love to me changed, grew thinner but taller, younger, smoother. Similar yes to a young version of David but not him -- no, not him at all. The man making love to me now was not my husband, but my son.

I gripped David's ass and pulled him into me, imagining that it was Tom, my beautiful, wonderful son. God but I was wicked. I knew it but I couldn't help myself, I just couldn't, not for years now. "Yes darling, fuck me, that's it, fuck me harder," I need it so badly," I called out. It was only a harmless fantasy wasn't it? Nothing more than that. David didn't know, could never know and that was fine, as long as he never found out and neither did Tom, then what was the harm in a mother's naughty fantasy? It certainly helped me catch up with my husband and as he came I could picture my own boy there, pouring his seed into me and it tipped me over the edge. "Yes, yes, fuck yes!" I cried as I felt my body shaking beneath him, my chest flushing red and my pussy clenching around him.

"Oh God, Lindy," David moaned and I tried to hear Tom's voice before pushing it to the back of my mind, back to that secret box where I kept that fantasy and instead just relaxed in the afterglow of good sex. Eventually David rolled off, kissing my cheek as he did. "That was wonderful darling," he said as I slid off the bed and blew him a kiss over my shoulder as I made my way to the bathroom across the hall. As I did I noticed the light on in Tom's room. I hadn't imagined it -- he had heard us. Poor guy, catching his parents fucking. If only he knew what I'd really been thinking of, I thought with a secret smile.

* * * * *

When I returned to our room, David was undressing. I snuck up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, enjoying the 'give' in his physique as I kissed him on the back of the neck. "Tom's back," I told him. "His date must not have gone well, let's not embarrass him as he must have heard us. We'll just get into bed, put the telly on and cuddle, yes?" David agreed, not commenting on the possibility of Tom having heard our vigorous love-making, maybe it doesn't bother guys as much being overheard? Not that it really bothered me. In fact, deep down, the Linda I keep locked away in that secret box wanted Tom to hear, to know that his mum was still active sexually, was still a sexual woman. Why? Well that crazy, secret Linda -- she wanted Tom, wanted her boy, wanted him more than anything. For the longest time my incest fantasies had never been connected with my own family. I'd stumbled across it years ago, 15 years or so ago I think, on the internet of course. Ubiquitous now, it was hard to avoid even then on erotic story sites and I had been idly curious that I hadn't been revolted by the very idea. Once I went down the rabbit hole of that first story of mother son love, I never came back.

It seemed so wrong and yet, the more I thought about it, the more I read, the more I enjoyed the fantasy of a boy falling in love with his mother and of a mother giving herself utterly to her son. A twisted sort of love, perhaps, but not twisted in a bad way, just a kink in the natural order of familial love that could, if it occurred, open new and deeper avenues of love, desire and fulfilment than anything else. After all, I reasoned, who loved a man more or longer than his own mum? And who was the first woman a man loved? His mummy, of course. For years, while Tom was growing up, the stories I read and enjoyed were always about someone else, some other mother that I projected myself into, some other son that took Tom's place and yet, slowly, in recent years since he became a man, it was his face that I increasingly imagined when I read the stories and even when I was making love to David and it was me to whom he was making love.

We'd always been close, Tom and I, it's natural I suppose, what with him being my only child. I'd wanted more but David hadn't and had had the snip some years ago, which put an end to any of my hopes for a little brother or sister for Tom. In response, I showered all my love on my boy. I don't think it spoiled him as he's turned into a fine, caring, smart and funny young man. The sort of young man any mother would be happy to see her daughter bring home. The sort of man, I smiled to myself as I thought it, that any mother would be jealous of her daughter for bringing home.

I tried to push the thought away as I snuggled into David, my head resting against his bare chest as we watched some crappy comedy panel show in bed together. David chuckled away occasionally but I let my thoughts drift on the edge of sleep. I knew I shouldn't keep thinking about Tom like this, knew it was wrong, and for the hundredth time I told myself that tomorrow would be different and that I'd stop these idle but dangerous fantasies. I knew that was a lie -- I had neither the will power nor, truthfully, the inclination to stop. It was only a fantasy after all. I couldn't really do it, could I? Even if, by some miracle Tom felt the same way, I couldn't go through with it, give myself to him utterly. No, surely not. Yes you could Linda, said the secret voice in my head, you know you'd do anything -- anything -- for him. She was right, I thought as sleep took me, I would.

What I didn't know then but was to discover very shortly afterwards was that Tom felt the same way. He'd uncovered my secret a few months before, shortly after his return home after graduation. The security measures I'd taken on the family computer had been enough to guard my secret from David, whose computer literacy was functional at best, but not enough to keep Tom from finding out exactly what sort of stories I liked. He claimed that he had come across them innocently. I'm not sure I believe him but, in the end, that doesn't matter and I'm glad that he did, given all that has happened between us.

David and Tom got on fine but never connected in the same way that Tom and I did. They were too different despite their similar looks. While David was your practical man's man, Tom was gentler, more cerebral, more modern in his opinions and attitudes. David couldn't understand, for instance, why Tom wanted to go to university. Tom was practical, like his Dad, but he was more curious, wanting to know why things worked rather than simply how they worked. He went to university in Bristol, far enough away to be independent but close enough to come home whenever he wanted. He got a degree in Engineering and was now working for a local company developing off-shore wind farms, part of his commitment to creating a green future.

As I dressed the next morning, I glanced across at the framed photograph on my dressing table of Tom receiving his degree the previous summer flanked by me and David. I was in my best frock and hat while David looked a bit awkward in his one suit that he usually reserved for funerals. Furtively, I'd positioned the picture so that Tom's laughing hazel eyes and happy smile were looking right at me when I lay in bed. I did have it bad didn't I? It was a warm spring day and I dressed casually in a pink top, scooped at the neck, and a pair of navy blue shorts that left plenty of thigh on view. I made my usual Saturday breakfast for my boys, full English with all the trimmings, and we sat down together around nine to fill our bellies with bacon, sausages, fried toast, scrambled eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms, all washed down with orange juice and strong coffee.