We made a big mistake. That's what started this whole fiasco. And now, looking back on things, that mistake wasn't nearly as momentous as the bigger mistakes that followed. And so I find myself every weekend; serving food and drinks, washing dishes and sheets, and entertaining my good buddies while they spend two days a week, and sometimes more, fucking my mom.
Every Friday evening just past supper time, when the nervous feeling in our stomachs starts to bubble-up regardless of what we eat; and the after dinner glass of wine has morphed into a bottle, we put away the everyday signs of domestic tranquility, and lay-out the more deviant party treats that are required by our "guests."
The good china, better linens and luxury lotions are stored away. Old sheets are thrown over the furniture, paper and plastic utensils are brought-out, and the locked cabinet is opened to allow access to all manner of leather objects and phallic toys.
And the most sordid and demeaning moment of all is when the doorbell rings just as night is falling, and I watch my mom slavishly unbutton her blouse while I trudge over to the door, to welcome my "friends."
My mother has resignedly accepted her vassal fate in a stoic manner. She taught religious training for years, and was terribly conflicted by the lewd and incestuous activity we had been engaging in, for the most part of a year. She allows me liberties with her sensuous body and I have initiated her into the mystifying realm of dom/sub. She has learned that ceding control of her sex routine has increased her libido. And I have developed a new confidence in dominating and conditioning my mom in an exciting method of physical intrigue. Our boring, nearly non-existent sexual routine, has become a spontaneous, try-anything, adventure that has increased and intensified our orgasms. I have gotten used to casually reaching under her shirt, or placing her on her knees for my own enjoyment and reveling in her new subservience. She savored the freedom to experiment and act-out a hidden fantasy life. We fucked constantly. She enjoyed it and often instigated some wild, sensual situations, but she told me once that though she relished the orgasms they provided, her conscience would sometimes bother her. I was also stricken by the obvious taboo of incest and force, (but I worked through it.)
Now there comes a strange twist to our little perversion. A new participant to our game, that has altered the dynamics of our relationship. A major third party has invaded our activities like a virus infecting a computer, and compelling us to accept new rules that have been introduced to the game, without our consent. She believes that this is some awful form of divine retribution for the sin of having sex with her son. She believes that she drove me to this outcome, and that she was enjoying her decadent, deviant thrills a bit too lustily for even "a bad girl." So she goes through with the new sex-by-extortion, first as a means to safeguard what's left of hers and my reputation. And secondly as a kind of ashes and sackcloth penance, in which she must punish herself by the same behavior that she wallowed in.
For my part, I am horrified that my blackmailing associates might let it leak, that I've been having deviant and incestuous relations with my mother. And for my role in getting my mom caught-up in this monstrous mess. As my punishment, I mostly have to watch and listen to a parade of my fellow school chums, as they take their dirty turns passing my mother around or even worse, when they all gangbang her and force me to literally describe the erotic maneuvers in explicit, pornographic details. It's sometimes as if I'm watching some horrible game of naked Twister, where body parts are indistinguishable, and at a certain spin of the wheel, my mother gets anointed in sperm. My role is to cheer on the contestants and provide a running commentary on my mom's physique and her abilities to handle more than one cock at a time. I am often required to express how "hot" it looks to see so many big cocks baptizing my mom in sperm. Or how her tight cunt foams at the thought of how much cum she can guzzle in any one setting. Everyone, (mom included) gets more aroused as the language and descriptions become more raunchy. And sometimes I need to "tell the crusty slut whose gigantic cock she should suck next."
The first time that I complained; after mentioning that they could easily spread the news of our little tryst, they also threatened to hold me down and shove their big, hard cocks in me. In my defense, my mom offered them access to her tight ass. Now they get a cheap trill out of making me lick her twat after they have each deposited their sticky loads, and I realized that they filmed the encounter, adding to their growing blackmail evidence and furthering their corrupt power over us. I have new masters too!
The entire crazy episode started about a year ago. My mom Crystal, is a high school teacher who has a solid reputation as a straight-laced, conservative, single woman, who keeps her emotions and sexual attitudes under wraps. Then a serious legal and financial situation caused an erotic change to come over her. We were able to stem the crisis, but the staggering effect on needing to rely on me for monetary and physical support brought-on a stunning and transformational reversal of her sexual psyche. At first she was like a child having lost her way, but then an entirely unique personality emerged. It started as a reluctant woman almost appearing to repay a debt. Then developed into a lust-crazed submissive, needing only a spark to kindle some deep-rooted, erotic fancies.
I must admit that I took every advantage of the change in roles. And I found the sudden new power dynamic to be sexually stimulating and intoxicating. We fell into a depraved pattern of incestuous, carefree sexual escapades that turned my mom from a repressed, closeted homemaker, into a sensual, ribald dynamo. She continued to dress and act as a no-nonsense, no-frills, school-marm on the job. But at home, after a daring summer of sexual exploration and a startling desire to express her inner-slut, my mom became my personal fuck-toy. And I compounded the sin by encouraging her trampy behavior, and introducing her to various manners of indecent fulfillment. Her sexy, submissive body became my sensual playground. I demanded that she say, "my slutty body belongs to you..." and that, "I worship your cock and love your sweet cum," and it heightened her pleasure to obey and be abased. She told me that obscene language and the feeling of subordination enhanced the thrill for her. And increased the force of her orgasms. I loved that it pleased her and I thought it only served to increase her beauty.
Crystal has a gorgeous, heart-shaped face with sharply defined cheeks and jawline, and plump, pink lips. She has long, honey-blonde hair that I insist she wear down at home, free from the confining pins and ponytails she fashions for work. And her attire at school purposely obscures her magnificent figure, like painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. The long muscular legs hidden by knee-length skirts, the firm bubbly ass concealed by layers of fabric that is only noted when she bounces down the halls in four-inch heels, and the full, rounded 38DDs bound and constrained under bra, slip, blouse and jacket.
At home now, my demure wall-flower mother has metamorphosed into a rare and exotic butterfly, sexually charged and anxious to live-out her slave-girl daydreams. And with each passing summer day, we gradually added little bits of erotic excitement to our mutual pleasure. We took turns ordering revealing outfits and purchased vibrating toys and Velcro restraints. There was a weekly movie night, where we watched all genres of x-rated films as we cuddled and groped on the couch. Then we used the images of those movies as inspiration; acting-out various scenes for the next few nights, or researching online sites to recreate as sexual role-play. We also had phone-sex and began to shower together. It was fantastic for both of us.
A year that started so depressingly awful became a bonding and thrilling few months of sexual growth and freedom for the both of us. We knew that it may be considered immoral or inappropriate, but we were in our own home, of legal age, and not hurting anyone.
As the new school year approached for each of us, (my final year of college,) we planned an Autumn "blow-out." A simple porch party for her friends and mine. My mom and I had different last names that we continued to keep for a few reasons. My father passed away right before I was born and just prior to them getting married. So I kept his last name, and in high school, even in my mom's class, nobody knew that we were related. She was Miss Caldwell and I was John Rollins, JR for short. This sometimes led to some awkward moments, and I was subjected to hearing some crude remarks concerning my mother's bodacious figure. Even in her usual frumpy clothes (I'm sure that they were stylish, but what eighteen year-old sees that,) there was no way to hide her curves. I grew to fantasize about her in the most obscene and demented ways.
As time went by after my graduation, we became much less concerned about the names, or about people knowing that we were related. Our acquaintances found it to be a fun story. The remarks continued to be heard but were not as nasty around me, and my mom grew to tolerate and even accept the whispered descriptions of being a sexy MILF. The party put a new spin on things.
Towards the end of a long night of drinking under a hot sun, and long after the older folks had left and my mom went to bed, there were only four of us left. We still drank, watched porn and shared lies about sex. And that was the recipe for the big mistake.
