Part 2 continues in the same vein. A slow burner. It's purely fictional. It's not meant to reflect reality. If stories about incest, amputees, coercion, manipulation, verbal abuse and humiliation upset you, click back.
In her bedroom, Claire dumped the semen covered clothes on the floor. They were a mess. As she laid out fresh leggings, a T-shirt and panties on her bed, the scent of Charlie's sperm hung in the air, making her feel quite light headed. Claire had never smelled anything quite like it in her life. She just couldn't stop herself gathering up the sodden T-shirt and holding it to her nose. Breathing in large lungfuls, Claire had no words to describe the odour, but the physical reaction was very powerful. Without even thinking, she found herself sucking at the still wet cloth and savouring the pungent flavour of her son's ejaculate with eyes closed. For a few dreamlike moments she was lost in time, until reality returned with a jolt. Shaking her head in denial, Claire dropped the garment as if she'd been burned.
Charlie had suggested she be naked the next time and even though she knew it was wrong on so many levels, she also knew there would be a "next time." Many more "next times" too. That line had already been crossed and in her mind, there was no turning back. Besides, it was her duty. Just another part of caring for him. Did other mothers in similar situations do the same thing? And if so, did they also experience sexual excitement? The same excitement she was feeling? Claire determined they probably did. It was just a physical response. Human nature. It was how she dealt with it that mattered. If Charlie never found out, she felt sure she could handle it.
She pushed the thought to one side. Instead, she found herself warmed by Charlie's thoughtfulness and concern for her and her clothes. It was a caring side to him that she hadn't witnessed much of before. She wondered if he gave Joshua similar consideration. She also wondered if she had performed better than Joshua. Charlie had produced an awful lot of semen, but she only had her late husband for comparison and even then, she'd never actually seen him ejaculate. No. She would have known. Charlie's orgasm was far greater than his father's, both in force and quantity. She couldn't help wonder if he did that much, or even more for Joshua. After all, he'd been caring for Charlie for nigh on 2 years and today had only been her first time. He'd looked so happy though, and that was what Claire wanted more than anything. To make her son happy.
Resigned to the knowledge that relieving her son would become routine, Claire decided to make sure she was better than Joshua. She really hated the thought that Charlie liked him more than her. She would do her utmost to make sure he forgot about Joshua. She was nothing if not determined. Claire Simpson hadn't become one of the most sought after violinists on the planet by being weak minded. She was Charlie's carer now. Not him. Not Joshua. She'd worked hard for this and she was fiercely competitive. There was nothing, absolutely nothing she wouldn't do to ensure her son's happiness.
As she dressed, she noted her still very hard nipples and the moisture between her thighs. Perhaps she should consider wearing bras and larger panties. She had some bras, but only a few. Her diminutive breast size meant she rarely wore them at all. She decided against it, they were uncomfortable to wear, but would look for different panties when she next shopped for clothes. So, dressed and with fresh make up, she made her way back downstairs.
With the webcam set up to record automatically, Charlie browsed for free website building software and when satisfied, he downloaded the one he felt best suited his needs. It would take some effort to learn how to use it, but that would give him time to build up a portfolio of videos and photos in readiness to upload. He still couldn't quite believe how easy the dumb bitch had been to manipulate and his damaged brain went into overdrive. He quickly turned the monitor off, swinging in his chair when his mother knocked and came in.
"I wondered if you fancied lunch in town, baby," Claire suggested. "There's a lovely bistro I think you'd like. Then maybe a trip to the cinema?"
Look at her! Standing there, waffling on about lunch and the cinema as if nothing had happened. As if 20 minutes ago she hadn't been on her knees wanking his spunk over her face like a whore. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. "I need a shit, mother," he told her, watching her sweet smile turn sour.
It was something Claire knew she would have to deal with, but still, the prospect made her stomach turn. After undoing his shorts, she watched him seat himself on the toilet, not certain of what was expected.
"Jesus mother," he exclaimed. "Get the fuck out. I'll call you when I need my arse cleaning."
Claire stumbled from the bathroom, dreading what was to come, yet steeling herself nonetheless. At least she'd had the foresight to have a bidet installed when having the annex converted for him.
In fact, the task wasn't as bad as Claire had anticipated. She likened it to dog owners having to clear up after their dogs. Just another part of caring for her son. She was surprised at her ability to disassociate her mind from the physical act. The bidet was a godsend, although Charlie insisted on having her "finger clean" his anus with a soapy digit.
"Yeah, that's it," he commented. "Get right in there mother. I like having a clean arsehole." Fuck. She was so dumb. Charlie grinned with satisfaction as his mother diligently fingered him causing his horse cock to swell, then watched her frantically scrubbing her hands clean. "And don't even think about getting gloves mother," he snarled. "I hate those fucking things. They make me come out in a rash," he lied. The bitch would clean him without the the comfort of latex to protect her dainty little fingers.
Once again as she pulled Charlie's shorts back up, Claire was bewildered by the size of her son's penis. It hung nearly to end of his stumps. How could he be so large when her late husband was.......well, so small by comparison. She had no time to dwell as Charlie walked out and sat in his chair, turning to look at her.
"Don't you ever wear anything but fucking T-shirts and leggings, mother?" he asked, rather catching Claire off guard. "I mean, you like a fucking skank. I thought you were supposed to be a fucking world renowned violinist for fucks sake," he mocked nastily.
Claire remained calm. "I find them comfortable to wear, baby," she explained. "Besides, I haven't really had much cause to dress up." That was very true. She really didn't dress up often. With no man in her life and her one and only goal to bring Charlie home, she'd had no reason to dress differently. Other than when she'd been performing that is, but that was different.
He appraised her, his eyes roaming up and down her petite body. "Well, I don't like it mother. You look fucking cheap and nasty," he said coldly. "Why the fuck would I want to be seen outside with a mother who doesn't fucking care what she looks like?"
Claire took a deep breath and fought back her tears. Nobody had ever criticised her like that before and it hurt badly, but she knew Charlie couldn't help it. "I'm sorry baby," she apologised softly. "What do you want me to wear?"
What a dumb fucking bitch. If he played his cards right, Charlie knew he could have her dress in anything he wanted. Just like the women on the internet. "Well, a fucking dress would be a good start mother," he sneered. "Some fucking heels too, instead of trainers. Joshua never wore trainers. Joshua always made sure he looked good......even in his shitty uniform he looked better than you."
"Ok baby. I can do that for you," Claire replied positively. She was getting tired of hearing Joshua's name. Damned if she would let it get to her. She would wipe that name from Charlie's vocabulary if it was the last thing she did. "I'll go and change."
