The long ride home was accomplished in stony silence, except for Jason going on about how he should have "taken those punks out" when we first got to the garage. Big talk from a boy who so quickly obeyed "those punks," who eagerly stripped and fucked his mother at those "punk's" behest and who then joined in so readily in all that happened subsequently. My mind was in turmoil throughout the twelve-hour ride home. The video the sheriff had played for me before he let us go was on a constant loop in my head. Me requesting another cock to replace the one that had just left my mouth, pussy or ass. Me moaning like a whore as Jason won the bet that he couldn't make his mother cum. Believe me, he had most definitely made his mother cum. The video doesn't lie! And then there's me screaming in pain as I urged Benji to fuck me harder with his gigantic "nigger" cock. That was the first time in my life I had ever uttered that horrid word. But also playing in my head was the memory of the most spectacular climaxes I have ever experienced. Ones I'm not likely to ever experience again. Unless, of course, I return to Thad. Somehow, I know in time I will. And to Benji.
Above all, though, was the earth-shaking fact that Thad had awakened something in me that had long lain dormmate, something that I knew had changed me fundamentally and which would haunt my memory henceforth. My husband, Giles, could never rouse the woman Thad had recognized so easily and naturally in me. I knew then clearly and rationally that I was a woman in limbo, waiting to be taken again by a man like Thad or the sheriff, if not Thad himself, and when that happens, it will be impossible for me to deny that man anything. I am a slave waiting for a master, I thought. Little did I know how soon that would happen or what dire consequences it would have for me and my family.
Times were tense for a while when we got home. It took a week before Giles was ready to talk. He knew I had climaxed many times (and hard!) and that naturally bothered him. It would be for any husband watching his wife submit to her rapists, wouldn't it? I told him about the Ecstasy, but he insisted the drug didn't work that way, though he is definitely wrong about that. I should know!
I didn't tell him how disappointed I was in his inability to protect me, but he must have known I was thinking about it. In the end we just agreed not to talk about any of it. Our sex life has suffered, understandably. Giles got to see that submissive woman ("fuckmeat," as Thad called her), that lived unrealized within me, and I saw quite clearly how I ranked vis-a-vis his business. What he didn't know was how often I relived those moments in Thad's garage or how I fantasized about it all. I needed it and wanted it. He must never know it.
But after a month, little by little, life was returning to at least a semblance of normalcy, though Giles remained silent and shut in. I missed my period, but I didn't worry about it. All the sex and Benji's giant fuck stick inside me had certainly disrupted things at least enough to account for a missed period, I reasoned.
Giles and I only had sex once since we got home and that was dutiful and strained. He wouldn't look at me the entire time. I understood. I wonder if he may have known that I shamelessly fantasized about other cocks during that one time.
Jason and Candice ironically appeared unbothered by it all and seemed in fact to have grown much closer. Jason, waiting to go off to college, was pretty much the same kid as he was before, cock sure of himself and apparently still bedding multiple girls and occasionally their mothers. He's a very handsome and athletic boy and those successes are his due, I thought. But I admit I often wondered whether he compared me to those other mothers. Silly, I know. I'm pretty confident.
Candice, on the other hand, had become even more competitive with me, especially when there were opportunities for her to flirt or flaunt her body. Giles' clients loved it, of course. It irked me because it was blatantly aimed at me, a direct challenge. But I can hold my own, I know. I showed her that at the garage when I took Benji.
As I mentioned, we'd just been home a little over a month when this next startling episode occurred. It had been an especially hot and humid late summer, the dreary dog days the Northeast is noted for. I was doing some rearranging in the kitchen getting ready for the new maid we'd hired. (The old one quit when we discovered Jason fucking her!) No one was home but me. I was in some cut-off jeans that I wore to a Daisy Mae party some years ago. They are borderline obscene, cut so high most of my ass shows and way, way too tight. They were a great hoot at that party, I remember, but I hadn't worn them since. The shorts were accompanied by a worn-thin tee that I had cut the bottom out of, but when I pulled it on, I realized that I'd cut a bit too much off of the bottom and the entire lower half of my boobs were showing. I wouldn't normally dress like this, but it was hot, no one was home, and I was thinking about Georgia and feeling sexy.
Rearranging some plates in the kitchen, I got a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror as I lifted a stack of dishes to an upper shelf. With my arms up, considerably more than half of the bottom of my breasts were completely on view. Well past the nipple. My ass jutted out firmly and invitingly from the Daisy Mae's. It was an astoundingly sexy look, and I thought to myself, Michelle, you can still compete with just about anybody. And that certainly includes Candice. I loved the way I looked.
I was listening to a contemporary rock station. A loud rap song by Fifty Cent that I found erotic in a weird way. I was swaying my ass with my eyes closed, my hands over my head, when all of a sudden, I felt a pair of hands clasping both breasts from behind. I shrieked, and turning around I saw Jason standing there grinning.
"Jesus, Jason," I yelled. "You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry," he laughed. "You just looked so fucking hot and sexy with your big tits bouncing around, I just had to grab them. He reached under my tee to grasp them again.
"Jason! What are you doing?" I asked, looking down at his hands cupping my breasts but oddly not puling back or pushing his hands away.
"I want to fuck you again," he said matter of factly, squeezing my boobs a little harder. "You were inviting me to with your tits and ass all out and sexy. You were asking for it, come on."
"Stop it, Jason, I'm your mother," I said, trying to sound stern while ignoring his hands now playing with my nipples.
"You were a great fuck, and I want it again. You liked it too. I made you cum. I can make you come again."
"That was not something I planned or wanted to happen, and I had no choice. You know that," I said, finally removing his hands.
"But you were still a great fuck. One of the best I've had. And you did cum hard. You know you did. You know you want it again."
"Was I better than some of the other mothers I've heard you've fucked," I said, trying to sound serious, but laughing.
"Way better"
"Better than Amanda's mother?" I said hopefully. "With her big tits and everything?"
"Yeh, her tits are bigger, but your cunt is tighter and you're a better fuck, and I'm gonna have some of it right now," he answered gruffly and impatiently.
He then suddenly and abruptly turned me around and pulled me hard into his pelvis. He pushed his right hand to the top of my waist band while his left hand shot up to re-grab a tit. I could feel the rigidity of his cock pushing hard against my ass. "Jason, what are you doing?" I gasped breathlessly. "You can't fuck me. I'm your mother."
"I already fucked you and I'm going to fuck you again," he replied stridently, pushing a few fingers passed the tight waistband of my shorts. I sucked my belly in to give him easier access. Why I did this, I still don't know. It was instinctive, is all I can say. But also a clear sign.
His hand slipped closer to his goal.
"You are so fucking hot," he murmured in my ear. "All my friends wanna fuck you."
"They do? All of them?" I asked stupidly. I was starting to feel the lack of sex since we got home and recalling the harsh way Jason had taken me in the garage. I was getting very wet and shaky. Against all my better judgment, I let it continue. "All of them?" I repeated.
