Author's notes: It just wouldn't be right if I didn't kick things off by mentioning this; for the sake of the easily offended or simply misinformed, this story contains scenes of incest, between a mother and son in particular, and other sorts of sexual acts that are considered taboo. It's pretty dirty I tell you. So at the end of the day what I'm really saying is... read it at your own risk. I have another warning, but this time it's directed towards those who prefer a short and sweet type of story; I can dig that, but this is not one of those stories.
The last two droplets of the part of my, I feel are obligatory, notifications go like this; all persons in this story involved in any sort of sexual activity are over the age of eighteen. Likewise, if you're a reader that happens to be under that specified age, do not read this story. Now, when I first came up with this unusual tale I call 'The Crazy Things We Do For Family', I was trying to think a little outside of the longish-incest-story box, so there's absolutely no slow, romantic climb into the action. But bear in mind, that doesn't mean that I did not put any thought into my story. I would also like to mention this; the titles I gave to the respective parts in this story were inspired by my protagonist's thoughts and actions, more than being chapters.
To give you a better understanding of what I mean by that, I'll ask you a question. If you were about to do something difficult, what would be the names of the individual stages you'd go through, before, during and subsequently to you doing that difficult task? Get it now? Right, let's move on. In addition to the titles, they follow a scheme, and will guide you through the story's timeline, so pay attention. Since writing is a newly discovered obsession of mine, and, since this is in fact the first story I've actually managed to complete, any type of constructive criticism would be welcomed with open arms. Similarly, please take the few seconds it would take to rate the story on completion of reading it. Now that we've gotten all of that out of the way, I really hope you enjoy it.
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Karen squealed, wiggled, kicked, scratched and clawed, as she tried to fight off a very large man, who was disguised in a creepy, colourful, Joker mask, which was made out of rubber. In addition to this man, he had the advantage in this grizzly situation, because both of his gloved hands were tightly locked around her throat, as they tussled on the couch inside the living room of her home.
With one adrenalin fuelled thrust against his chest, executed by the use of her right leg, her brawny assailant staggered backwards, toppled over her coffee table and then crashed onto the cold, hard floor. Karen realised that her chances to escape wouldn't get any better than this. Consequently, she leaped off of her couch with catlike agility.
Even though she was in her high heels, she then sprinted through her living room with the grace of a gazelle and made her way to the front door of the house she inherited from her grandparents. She desperately needed the help she would receive once she got outside. As she turned the handle of the front door, her blood instantly went cold, because she realised it was locked and she did not have the key for it.
"Where the hell is this key?" Karen panicked as she frantically checked her pockets and the mounted key rack to no avail. "Shit!" she blurted, with a combination of both fear and frustration. Just as she set herself in motion to find a new potential exit, she discovered that her path was blocked by the large, Joker masked man. He had her trapped like a mouse.
"What do you want from me?" she yelled at him. He silently stared her down for a few moments, and then without answering her question, he suddenly charged at her. That's when Karen's 'fight' in her 'fight or flight' response kicked in. As a result, she quickly grabbed the heavy vase that was placed on the long table that was standing beside her and hurled it at him with all of her might.
And as luck would have it, her assailant ran face first into her improvised choice of weaponry, smashing it into pieces, as he crumbled to the floor. Taking advantage of her luck, she quickly skipped over her wounded attacker, who was groaning in agony on the floor, and then made her way to the staircase. "Somebody, please help me!" she cried out at the utter top of her lungs, in addition, her eyes became misty, as she hastily dashed up the flight of her stairs.
After reaching the summit of the staircase, she quickly sprinted down the hallway and run into her guestroom, which also happened to be her younger brother's former bedroom, and gently closed its door behind her. She decided that she would escape the house by climbing onto the rooftop of the patio downstairs, but for some bizarre reason, all the windows of the guestroom were sealed tight.
"What the hell did this guy do to my house?" she said, as she tried her hardest to yank up the windows. But try as she might, they simply did not open. But fear not, because that's when Karen came up with a plan B, which was to hide inside the closet of the guestroom. That would buy her some time to call the cops and wait for them.
Subsequently to entering the empty space of the closet and quietly closing its door, she took a seat on the hard, wooden floor. She then reached into the back pocket of her jeans, withdrew her I-phone, and prayed so that her assailant would not locate her before the arrival of the police.
With her hand shaking, she dialled the emergency number into her phone and then placed it against her ear. But that action wasn't followed by the anticipated ringing sounds. What's going on? She checked the screen of her phone. "Ah, come on," she exclaimed in a whisper, as she tossed her phone on the wooden floor beneath her. She had no phone reception.
A few seconds later from the thud her phone made, Karen was frozen in fear, because that's when the creaky door of the guestroom's main entrance slowly pushed open. Oops, throwing her phone in frustration the way she did was definitely an unwise move. The gradual sound of the large, masked man's footsteps began, and sounded like they were approaching her hiding spot.
"This can't be happening," she whispered ever so softly, placing her right hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing, as a few tears started to run down her face. Once her assailant ultimately reached the closet's closed door, he stopped, which made Karen close her eyes and drop her head as she trembled in fear. She was also trying to be as quite as possible.
But she let out a shrill whimper and shuddered as the door that concealed her abruptly flew open. Now even though she was both sobbing and completely terrified, she mustered the courage to lift her head as she looked her masked assailant in the eye. "Please... don't... kill... me," she beseeched him as she wheezed.
The large, Joker masked man silently hovered over his powerless victim, by the cruel means of looking down at her for about ten terrifying seconds. And then without warning, he suddenly lunged downwards and grabbed her by her throat again.
That's when Karen's eyes flew open, with a loud gasp, kicking her duvet, as she scrambled to sit up in her bed, at the abrupt moment of her waking up inside the safe and sound domain of her bedroom. Her heart was pounding at a mile a minute, and her sheets were drenched in the cold sweat that seeped through her nightdress, as she went through the petrifying events of her nightmare.
Still huffing for air at this point, she suddenly jerked her head left, right and then left again, in an unnecessary effort to check if she was really safe. "It was only a dream," she said while panting. "It... was only... a dream."
Once she ultimately recuperated, she reached for her nightstand and pulled the cord of her nightlight, which in effect, illuminated half of her dark bedroom. She then peeled off her duvet, swung her legs to the side, and sat on the edge of her queen-sized bed. Subsequently, she placed her hands on the small of her back to check how soaked she was. "Ah, damn it," she muttered. "Now I have to change," Karen added in thought, as she discharged an irritated sigh.
Subsequently to getting to her feet, she walked over to her closet and disrobed by removing her nightdress and underwear. Thereafter, she stepped into a comfortable pair of cotton panties, a large white shirt and a sky-blue pair of pyjama bottoms. On completion of changing her garments, she placed the items she was wearing before inside the washing hamper that was situated inside the personal domain of her bathroom.
She then came back into her bedroom and changed her sheets. Karen knew she would have a tough time going back to sleep if she simply dived back under her covers, and also knew that she would need a nice warm glass of milk if she was to get sleepy once more. Therefore, she threw on a robe, stepped into her fluffy pink pair of morning slippers, and then headed for the exit of her bedroom door.
Now walking down the somewhat dark hallway of the house she inherited from her grandparents, she passed her office, the guestroom, her son Dylan's bathroom, her meditation/exercising room, which she hardly ever used, and Dylan's bedroom on her way. Together with making a right turn, as she approached the staircase, she noticed that her son's bedroom door was slightly ajar from the thin strip of light shining through from it.
Mentally noting that, she headed downstairs, and entered the kitchen. She took out an open carton of milk from the refrigerator and then walked over to the cupboards, to pull out two mugs. After pouring milk inside the mugs and placing them into the microwave oven, she punched the necessary buttons on the microwave's keypad to set up a forty-five second countdown.
She then walked back to the refrigerator, to place the carton of milk back inside it, and then walked back over to the microwave, where she waited for her mugs of milk to finish heating up. And as soon as they did so, she took them out and switched off the kitchen's light. Her final move was to head back upstairs, where she stopped at Dylan's bedroom door.
Now, Karen assumed that her son was still awake when she first walked past his room and noticed the thin strip of light beaming through from it. So needless to say, that second mug of milk was made for him. But just as she was about to leaned forward, in an attempt to push the door open with her shoulder, she heard Dylan say something that froze her in her tracks.
"Do you like sucking on my fat cock?" his voice husked, as he went about doing an unidentified activity.
Now off that surprising quotation, Karen assumed that her son was either masturbating or getting head from some girl he snuck in without her permission. And that's when the cat died, because she also became curious as to know which of the two possible scenarios it could be. As a result of this wayward characteristic of hers, she moved her face closer to the door and peeked through its slight opening.
Peering through, she could now see Dylan. He was lying on his bed, facing away from her, and was in a white football club jersey. He also had his grey pyjama bottoms pulled down, and had on a large pair of black headsets. Now here's the kicker. Dylan was on his laptop and was watching a 'hardcore mature porn' video, which featured a very sexy looking porn star, who shockingly enough, looked strikingly similar to his mother, Karen.
The actress had her 5"4' height. The sharp little dimples on her cheeks, which would breakout whenever his mother would speak or reveal her dazzling white smile. She had Karen's mesmerizing and vividly green eyes. Her full, plush, candy pink coloured lips. He didn't know the exact look of his mother's breasts. However, he did know that they were around the same size as the porn star's moderately large, fake ones.
A detail he knew without a doubt about his mother's chest area, were the moderate amount of liver spots on it, which were unevenly distributed across the region of her upper chest and shoulders. The actress had that feature as well. It wasn't the exact same look, but it was strangely similar. She also had Karen's curvaceously shaped and trim figure.
In addition, her taut, compact and semicircular looking buttock. Well at least that's what it looked like from a certain angle. The MILF in the video even had the beautiful, golden-brownish fountain of his mother's blonde hair, which stopped its fluorescent flow roughly three inches after passing her shoulders.
