Eric was the first to recover, lifting himself and withdrawing his cock from her ravaged arse. She clenched tightly at the retreating meat, not wanting it to go, but felt it slip from her sphincter and then slide stickily along her thigh. Eric immediately started to apologise as she looked exhaustedly up at him, her attention more on his slimy limp cock wishing he would grab her by the hair and shove it in her mouth so she could clean off the viscous mix of semen and arse butter. Oh well, she sighed, all in good time.
Once Eric had retreated inside, still apologising, but reassured that he hadn’t hurt his poor mother too much, Helen basked in the sun, letting it soothe her satiated body. It had been a long time since she’d been fucked in all three holes in one day - it was a treat she and Stan had usually reserved for days away when they had lots of time to themselves. It was one of her enduring fantasies and she often wanked remembering the first time it had happened.
They had been on their honeymoon at a beach resort and she had woken Stan up with a blow job. Although they’d fucked late the night before, he soon came and then returned the favour. At lunch they’d played footsies under the table and she’d managed to wedge her foot into his crotch, teasing his bulge with her toes. As soon as they’d returned to their room he’d almost torn her clothes off and thrown her on the bed. He then fucked her fast and hard, making her cum several times before finally unloading deep in her.
They’d slept till mid-afternoon then gone swimming. The beach was quite crowded and they’d indulged in a little game of guessing at the sexual perversions of the people near them. Walking back to the hotel, Stan had accused her of flirting with a couple of guys who had been sitting near them on the sand. She denied it, shocked and hurt, but he continued saying he’d seen her flash her tits at them, and angled her spread legs in their direction. All the time, his hand was caressing her lower back and buttocks and she quickly understood that this was another game. She continued with her hot denials, but he called her a wanton slut and told her she needed to be punished, alternating his caresses with light slaps on her backside.
Once back in their room, he told her to strip and lie across his lap. Then he started to smack her exposed buttocks, telling her all the while that she was little more than a whore and that he was going to teach her the consequences of displaying herself to the ogling gaze of young men. She was his wife now and had to abandon her former wanton ways. The smacks were painful but she cried and yelled more than was justified. Stan alternated between buttocks, and halted every dozen or so smacks to rub the edge of his hand between her vulva. Soon, with the hot glow in her abused buttocks and the swampy heat in her parts, she was getting randy. Each stinging blow of her husband's large hand heightened her arousal.
Finally she was begging him to fuck her. He laughed and said he’d fuck her alright - he’d fuck her in the arse! And so he had, but only after he’d prepared her with lots of gentle stretching with his fingers and using loads of vaseline.
Right from the start she’d loved anal sex. He’d done it doggy style and continued to smack her reddened buttocks as he bucked his cock into her. Then he’d leaned forward and tugged roughly at her tits and nipples, ‘punishing’ her for daring to flash them on the beach. The back to her arse again, more slaps as he thrust into her. He’d lasted a long time - after all it was the fourth time they’d had sex in less than 24 hours and he was a middle-aged man.
What with all the smacking, breast abuse, and the thudding of his scrotum against her cunt, she’d cum several times. But his orgasm wasn’t the end of the experience - as a completion of her ‘punishment’ she’d had to clean him off with her mouth and, kind of like imprinting, it had given her a sense of completion of the act so that whenever afterwards they had anal sex she never felt fully satisfied until carrying out the ritual of licking the semen and shit off her husband’s softened cock.
She was aroused from her reverie by the sound of the sliding door opening. Eric appeared at her side with a long glass of iced water and an abject look on his face. Helen, still naked and lying face down, looked up at him with her sunglasses on and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Eric held out the glass and began stammering an apology, saying he’d never again do anything to hurt her and how ashamed he was and could he help her back inside or should he call a doctor.
It was all just too wonderful and Helen let him go on until he spluttered through another set of apologies and started to repeat himself. Then she eased herself up onto one elbow, visibly having difficulty moving, and raised an arm to accept the water, one large breast swinging free. Eric was instantly silent, his eyes immediately latching on to the exposed breast. Helen suppressed a smile, prised the glass free from his fingers and took a long swig, managing to expose the other breast as well as she tilted her head back. Some of the water spilled down her chin and trickled down between her breasts. Her son shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes, Eric.’ she said in a tired pained voice. ‘You will have to help me inside. I need to shower desperately.’
‘Uh, sure mum,’ he said in a concerned voice.
‘But first go and put a plastic stool in the shower stall. I don’t think I can stand very well,’ she said weakly. Eric darted off quickly, an anxious look on his face, but clearly relieved to be able to do something to help. He then had to help her inside, an arm around her waist supporting most of her weight. Helen made sure that his hand was jammed up under one heavy breast and that her hip and buttocks rubbed against his crotch several times. There was no sign of an erection and Helen supposed it was partly because the boy was shagged out and partly because he was worried sick about her.
Once in the shower he had to turn the taps on and help her onto the stool. He eased her down, getting soaked in the process, and she bravely told him that she could manage but not to leave the bathroom in case he was needed. She luxuriated in the hot spray, slowly washing herself, making sure she let out the occasional grunt of pain. Even after all the tanning lotion was off she continued to sit in the streaming water. Eventually she finished and Eric had to help her out, dry her, dress her in her robe and help her, hobbling, to her bedroom.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, mum?’ he said as he puffed pillows for her and put cigarettes and magazines within easy reach.
‘I think it’s only bruises,’ she sighed. ‘A couple of hours sleep will help. Shut the door as you leave and try and be quiet so I can rest.’ He turned to go, the worried look on his face beginning to ease. ‘And Eric,’ she said in a firmer tone. He paused in mid-stride and swivelled apprehensively to face her. ‘You realise that what you did was rape?’ His mouth opened and brow furrowed. Helen didn’t wait for him to say anything. ‘I can’t understand what came over you. I had already done my utmost – twice - to relieve your animal cravings, allowing myself to be de-based beyond any maternal duty. And within hours you commit a disgusting criminal act on me.’ Eric was visibly shrinking into himself, his face a mixture of guilt and concern. ‘
You are lucky that my love for you is so great. But there is a limit to any mother’s tolerance. This morning, in all innocence, I agreed to help you out with your problem, not realising what I was committing myself to. You have now abused my trust in you. I told you that I would help you so long as you discussed your horrid urges with me. If I had known this afternoon that violent rape was on your mind I could have talked it through with you and we could have found some other non-criminal way to release your inner tensions. No, don’t interrupt me. I have decided that you need my help much more than I expected, otherwise you will become a serious danger to society. Eric, you must discuss these things with me, the instant they form in your mind, no matter how disgusting and depraved. With my help you can be a normal young man. Now promise me Eric.’
Eric, a picture of abject obedience and contrition, promised with great sincerity. But as he turned to make his escape, his mother continued. ‘You are beginning your last year at school. By being open and honest and working together we should be able to make sure that by the time you leave school and embark on adulthood, you have sufficient self-control to behave maturely and considerately with women.’ Eric stood for a moment then, realising the lecture was over, made a hasty exit before his mother could start again.
Three hours later Helen emerged again and busied herself with preparing dinner. Eric was watching TV but could hardly drag his eyes away from his mother as she moved about the kitchen and set the table. She was wearing a sleeveless check shirt, unbuttoned and tied below her bra-less breasts. Although no more than a deep cleavage was visible, her breasts jiggled like jellies with each movement and the outline of her nipples was plain. Added to this was a pair of denim shorts, cut-off so high that most of her buttocks were visible and part of her labia, if she bent over far enough – which she managed to do at least every couple of minutes. By wearing platform sandals her backside was raised higher and breasts thrust out more and, with all the bare flesh and subtle make-up, she looked like one of the models in the Playboys she knew were under her son’s bed.
During dinner she assured him with a sour look that he’d done no lasting damage and that the sleep had done much to heal her ravaged body. Although he was still abashed and wilted under her accusing looks, he couldn’t resist glancing repeatedly at her breasts.
Finishing her third glass of wine she asked him to help her with the dishes. She was feeling a nice buzz from the alcohol as they stood at the sink. She knew that Eric was getting an eyeful of her backside as she stood demurely with her hands in the sink and he moved around the kitchen drying and putting away dishes. She managed to flash lots of cheek and expose her puffy labia split by the thin gusset of denim. The show was turning her on and she wondered if the dampness she felt in her crotch was at all visible to her son. She dropped a spoon on the floor and bent double at the waist to pick it up then turned suddenly to look at her son standing behind her. He was gaping at her and adjusting his pants to accommodate the bulge of his hard cock.
Helen gasped in fright and then let her face fall in resignation. ‘Eric, I can’t believe it!’ she said in exasperation. ‘You have another erection! Even after sating your lust three times today, you get an erection watching a tired middle-aged woman doing a domestic chore.’ She stood hands on hips, legs apart, looking at him in despair. The boy stammered but couldn’t articulate a response. Helen took the tea towel from his nerveless fingers, dried her hands, then led him to the couch.
