This is a story containing non-consensual incest between an adult mother and her son. No characters in any of my stories are underage and all are clearly over eighteen, written as such.
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Hypnotising His Mother
Part Three
On the way to work, Charlotte groaned and wriggled in the driver's seat of the car, shifting her weight from one side to the other. It didn't allow her any relief, however, not remembering what had happened only a short time ago in the kitchen with her son, her need obvious even though her memory was proving to be rather faulty when she needed it to be most accurate. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, a little shaky and "juddery", but she tried to concentrate to the very best of her ability, concentrating on the road even as the white lines wavered before her.
"What's wrong with me?"
She couldn't put her hand down, not there, but what was wrong was kind of obvious too, even if she didn't want to actively acknowledge it. Her thick length throbbed and ached for attention and Charlotte could hardly believe that she'd been so stupid as to go out without underwear that morning. How could she have forgotten such a vital thing? It was necessary - to keep her secret nonetheless from everyone around her! There was hardly anyone left in her life that knew of it and, frankly, Charlotte wanted to keep it that way even as her breath caught in her throat, hips twisting first one way and then the other as she moaned out loud, trying to buck her hips and only catching herself in the nick of time.
People are going to see...
She sweated nervously, even through her deodorant, the feminine scent covering it up at the very least. People needed not to know about her, ensuring that she would not become the talk of the bank for all the wrong reasons, her position in jeopardy for keeping a secret that would have comprised their trust in her even if it should not have. What she had between her legs should not have mattered to anyone but Charlotte had not gotten as far as she had in life by not taking everything into account and making well and sure that no one had anything to talk about behind her back that she cared that much about. Let them wonder about her diet, how she looked as good as she did, whether she'd gotten a boob job or not. Those slivers of petulant gossip were of absolutely no significance to her when it came down to the monster of a secret she was holding back in store.
Her cock throbbed and she groaned again, panting lightly, smudging her lipstick as her tongue swept out across her lips. She'd have to do that again: damn it. Unable to do anything else right then and there, she pulled over in an empty parking lot, choosing the corner by a high wall that but would at least enclose her on most sides at once. It wasn't perfect by any means but in situations like hers it was quite clear that beggars could not very well be choosers. She could only do so much.
She had to do something, breath catching, her suit seeming suddenly too restrictive around her breasts. It wasn't what she would normally do, that much was certain, but it was all she could do, all she had in her arsenal, loosening the buttons of her suit jacket as she leaned back in her seat and switched the engine off, all for safety, of course. She was not the sort to take undue risks, as was seen with her usual choice of underwear, but she had to do something, fumbling with the seat belt as she wriggled her skirt up and her cock out into her hand with as much haste as she could possibly manage.
I've got to make this quick...
Her hand worked over her cock with practised ease and it should have been easy to reach climax easy. Not thinking about what she was doing, she leaned back, letting her head roll into the headrest, supporting her, the seat suddenly seeming a lot more comfortable now that she was taking care of the need that had taken over her day so far. Why she had not taken care of it in the shower that morning, pesky morning wood usually getting the better of her, was beyond her, but needs must as she worked on herself, moaning out loud.
"Yes..."
Her breathy moan was all that she needed to keep pushing herself on, hand working faster and faster, trying to reach that point of a high from which there was no return. Her pre-cum trickled out faintly and she used all that she could to lube up her cock, sliding her hand a little more easily along the length of it, although there wasn't enough. She was not hugely over-productive like the studs one could watch in porn videos but she was as hung as one of them - even more so in some cases, she was proud to say for herself! As much trouble as having a dick caused her, identifying otherwise as female, she wouldn't have given up the pleasure of it for anything in the world, humping and grinding up into her hand as she groaned out loud.
So close... So very close.
Yet she couldn't quite cross that edge that would tip her over into ecstasy, not noticing the ribbon, even though her hand brushed against it with every stroke. David had made sure that that would not get in the way, another little order that he had implanted in her mind before he'd sent her off to work, but Charlotte didn't remember any of that as her breasts heaved, a hand on one of them.
She had to get there, had to get off. Sweat rolled down her brow, hand working faster than ever. Why was it so difficult? Squeezing a nipple didn't do her any good either and she escalated it sharply into a pinch, catching her breath as she thrust even more vehemently than before. Anyone watching the car would have been shocked to see it rocking and jostling, from the inside out, as it was, even one of the windscreen wipers vibrating with the force of her thrusts where it had not been fixed on completely correctly.