Title: My Little Problem Keywords: mF, teen, inc, mom, son, cheat, anal, spank, bond, mdom, mat, size Author: Caesar Summary: A submissive mother has a problem with her dominant son and recounts how she became her sons slave and wonders if she can complete her transformation. There was a young lady of Kent, Who admitted she knew what it meant When men asked her to dine, And plied her with wine, She knew, oh she knew -- but she went! My Little Problem by Caesar, copyright 2003 $Revision: 1.9 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $ I have this little problem! Its really my own fault - of course - and I can not admit that I regret the path that lay to where I now find myself in. Yet I feel so dirty, so naughty and so vulgar and do you want to know something - I love it! Every minute of the day I think about it - all the times that I gave in to him... to my own lust. It was the burning of my soul that started it - the passion that a middle-aged woman experiences so that every thought was hinged with sex. I could be making supper, perhaps chopping large carrots, and I would think sex. The carrots becoming sexy orange phallus symbols to my hot passionate mind. I was becoming insatiable! My husband was less than empathetic. Our sex life had increased lately, from my own aggression, yet never more than once a week. I begged, I prostituted my body to my husband - if only he would fuck me, suck me, let me be a slut for the man whom I gave my marriage vows too those many years before. It did not start consciously - I did not wake up one day and think that I was going to seduce my son. Yet that is exactly what happened - my husband had left early to go golfing, as he does every Saturday morning - and as I opened the doorway to my sons' room, there it was hard and pointing toward the ceiling. God - just thinking about the first look at my son's grown-up cock still gives me a rush that ends between my legs. It was half as much longer than my husbands and twice as wide - a fucking work of art and that first look made my mouth water and my knees weak. I can not even say that what I did next was willing, since in my own memory its like a distant dream, real but cloudy. I don't need to go into details here - but I strode into my son's room and nothing has been the same since. I love my husband - never doubt that. My obsession with my son, with what lay between his legs, is beyond my control. Thats what I've resolved after these few months of bliss. Of course my husband does not know - and can never know - but that is part of the problem, Glen is becoming much more demanding and uninhibited! As I said - its only part of the problem. There are so many layers - how do I start? In the beginning Glen was like a puppy - ready to please, his cock always hard when his horny mother beckoned him. Those first weeks were like a private little haven - where we indulged in conservative sex whenever I could arrange at least a few hours alone in the house together. It felt so clandestine, so nasty to me - that I loved it. He was my own personal boy-toy, and his massive cock gave me more pleasure than I thought I would ever have again from a man. Perhaps when I started to become more casual for my son - laying with him afterwards, talking about what turned us on and me getting turned on by and what I thought about what we were doing. And even innocent things my son desired to do with me. Not since early in my marriage did I wear the lingerie that I wore for my son Glen - and I loved how his eyes lite up the first time he saw me in stockings, garters, heels and push-up bra. That, of course, only enticed me to dress in sexy clothing more often for my son. What forty three year old woman can not stop the pleasure that roared through her heart, mind and soul as a young man lusts so openly after her. Looks upon her with eyes that she had not felt or seen in so very long - not even by her own husband. For me - that it was my own son that looked at me in this way, only heightened the lust that coursed through my veins. Alone in the house, dressed so provocatively - my body roared with a blaze that my son could only extinguish. And he often hosed my fire down at least twice, often as much as four times in any given afternoon. Laying sated and in the arms of my illicit lover and son, I would ask him what he thinks about, what he desires... where, when and how. It turned me on - the things that he whispered to me. At first he was shy and tentative - but he opened up when he realized that his fantasies soon became my own, and we often lived them out not long after the telling. That is how I began to suck on my son's large beautiful cock. Its not the first cock I've taken into my mouth, of course, but it was the first that I sucked to completion. It was nasty, a mother sucking her son until she half-chocked on his pumping nectar - and I loved every second! Nothing seemed impossible for us - our secret affair safe in the veil of our lust. Perhaps I should mention that my son, at this period in our relationship, followed my requests that outside our rendezvous we continue to be mother and her son. In the first weeks after that first Saturday morning it was not so difficult as you may think. I simply had a secret lover with a huge ready cock and it had nothing to do with my husband. Glen had a more difficult time of it those first weeks - his eyes following me, remembering and thinking about the next time we could be together. Oh, I am not so innocent myself. As our relationship progressed, I could not be in the same room as my son and feel his masculine presence - can not stop thinking about what his seed tastes like, his hardness between my legs as it moved so deliciously and filled me like I have never been filled in my life. Even the smell of him - as he works himself into a lather as he pumps rapidly into his mother. As the weeks progressed, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be maternal with my son. I should thank god that my husband is so self absorbed that he has never noticed anything between his child and I! The first time I let my son enter my ass was painful and filled with exquisite bliss all mixed together. My son professed to love just the sight of my ass over my large breasts or shapely legs. Our talks progressed to his fingers or tongue pressing into my rectum, and knowing my son's desires, felt my own mirroring his own - and loved the attention back there! Having his penis enter me was only natural. He was clean, gentle and considerate as he did everything to ease this first for us both. It took almost ninety minutes, that first time, until I was relaxed enough for his fat circumcised penis to enter me. That first Saturday morning when I felt his cock fill and reach further into me than ever before is nothing like having that same beautiful large cock pierce your virgin ass hole. By the time he was able to move within me I was thrashing about his bed in passion, waves of orgasm shooting through me. If having an affair with your teenage son is not enough, telling your best friend had to be the stupidest thing I could have done. No I did not reveal that it was my son and as much as she tried to pry it from me, would not reveal whom the lover is with the large gorgeous cock that took my anal cherry. Sherry hung on my every word - asking for details politely throughout my stories. She laughingly joked that our weekly chats were enough to fuel her own fantasies for the rest of her week - better masturbation material than even the smut on the Internet. I laughed with her and naively felt privileged to be the one with the lover and not the one only hearing about it. Unlike my husband, Sherry's had not touched her in months. Glen and I had graduated from fornicating in his bed to any place in our large comfortable home. I bent over the kitchen table and screamed as my son ploughed me from behind. Or I above my son, on the expensive leather couch in the living room, bouncing rapidly. And one of my personal favourites - with him seated on the side of the jacuzzi tub while I knelt nearly submerged in the water and sucked him off. I should describe that I'm not a forty-three year-old woman with the body half my age, or the face of a teenager. I wish it was true! My body could be described as comfortable with still an attractive hourglass shape that I worked hard to keep. My face is attractive - but I looked my age. OK, you want it cold and raw; I have thick fake-red hair that is straight but has my bangs cut in front, I have average 'C' cup breasts with wide dark nipples which hang lower than they did when I was twenty, I have white stretch marks on my lower abdomen from carrying Glen before he was born, I have a thick curly brown trimmed pussy and I keep my outer labia bare since Glen and I have become lovers, my waist is small so that my hips flare out provocatively, my ass is larger than I would like as it thrusts out from my back but Glen can not get enough of it so I guess it is just fine, my legs would have to be my favourite part of my body as they are still shapely and strong and look damned fine in hose and high heels. In the first weeks my son worshipped me - I saw it in his eyes and I would jokingly tell him to blink more often. As the weeks passed, he became more comfortable with my body but still his eyes would feast upon me - taking what I had to offer and enjoying. A woman needs to know that she has a man who lusts over her - a man who can not get enough of looking at her, imperfections and all, and his eyes betrayed his lust. That it was my son looking at me this way only intensified the feminine feelings that I felt, the love. The first time I saw a man masturbate, while he watched me do the same - which was also a first, my passion for our relationship rose to new heights. All because a man could look upon me, stroke his rock hard dick and eventually orgasm and stayed hard until I came by my own hand a minute later. How can any sane middle-aged woman turn away from such mutual lust? How can she deny that man anything he may want? I look back and think of it like a old fashioned scale; the one side weighted down is me, up to the time Glen and I began the new stage of our relationship. As we progressed, as I fell so completely in love and lust for him, the scale began to shift so that his side began to lower and my own raise. That scale symbolizes the one who held the upper hand in our relationship, the more dominant one of the two of us. A small grasp of my breast when his father is only in the next room seemed acceptable. I did not initiate it but I did not deny my son anything, I could not! He would stand behind me and grind his hardness into the crack of my ass as both his hands grappled my covered chest. His lips whispering his love for me into my ear between licks of his tongue on my neck. Even at the height of our sexual marriage, my husband and I never acted this way - he never felt the desire to touch his willing wife so provocatively. And never in the kitchen, with me standing over a sink filled with dirty dishes and arms sunk in the sudsy water to the elbow! I was the luckiest woman in the world and though I knew the scales of our relationship was tipping in my son's favour, I could care less. Of all my little problems, that is probably the most significant. That I willing succumbed to my son's naturally emerging sexual aggression and desires. His eyes still lusted for his mother whenever I dropped my robe revealing my latest lingerie combination but it also held something new, something that I have never seen in my young man ever before. Just a month into our new relationship and I knew what that new glint in my son's eye was, power! And do you want to know something - it turned me on even more! The first hint of Glen's use of his newfound power while having sex with me occurred not long after the ass-grinding tit-fondling incident. With my son seated at the tail end of his parents bed while his mother knelt between his gorgeous sculptured thighs and worshipped his penis with my mouth. His father was due home within the hour and Glen and I had just enjoyed a few hours of mutual pleasure. We had separated and I had thought our time together for the day at an end - but as I came from my bathroom wearing only a towel I found him seated naked at the end of my bed. "I want you to suck me mom?" He made it sound like a question but it really wasn't. Did this middle-aged horny woman care? Of course not. Her man still desired her after hours of fornicating, wanted her to suck his soiled huge cock. With a smile on my lips and my tender vagina rekindling with a fire that only Glen could start, I knelt between his thighs. Having had his penis in my mouth many a time, up to this moment, I knew what my son liked. I wrapped both my hands about the fat base of his penis, since one hand could not reach all the way around his circumference, and began by licking the head of his penis until it was slick with saliva - and only then did I opened my mouth wide and lowered my face. With my hands moving in unison, my face bobbed up and down my son's hard cock I could taste our earlier juices and savoured it as nectar of our mutual love. There is nothing extraordinary about this tale, except perhaps my son's bold request for a blow job, until almost the end. Hearing the sounds and feeling his cock tightening - knowing what was about to happen... wanting it to happen - when Glen grasped my head and firmly withdrew me from his cock. It began to shoot its sperm upon my astonished but delighted face as he gasped, "Stroke it mom... stroke it...!" I did, using both my hands, and Glen was soon gasping and looking at me wildly - my face now covered in his thick cream. It was the most wild and bold thing I have ever done in my life and I loved it. I could see that he loved it - which, if you had understood anything up to now, only intensified my pleasure. Gently he stroked my wet hair, thanking me, telling me how much he loved me - then laughed and told me to go have another shower. Striding back into the bathroom - a quick glance in the mirror revealed a woman that I've never seen before. A woman that was wilder and sexier than I ever considered myself and I fell in love with that woman. I needed her in my life - to feel whole, to feel complete. Things progressed much faster after that point - my end of the scale rapidly rising. When we were alone together - Glen took the initiative in our joining. I let him and felt the ecstasy of submitting my sexuality to another human being. A man, whom, I trusted and loved like no other in my whole life. It was enlightening to give up total control of your pleasure - to know that your desires were at the whim of another. Every waking moment was filling with horny desires and thoughts about what we had done, and fantasizing what my son was going to do with me next! Even before he started to use words of possession with his mother - calling me his woman, his only love - we lived it. At this time my husband and I still had our weekly scheduled marital fornication - but it lacked colour and volume compared to my young lover. My husband grunted between my spread legs, the lights out, in our bed, and his body sweating on me. I was bored, I was unsatisfied. Some women may have brought their lover into their marriage bed with her husband - if only within the mind of the unsatisfied woman of course. Yet that felt perverted to me - wrong to think of my son as my middle-aged balding husband ejaculated his scheduled sperm into my barely-wet vagina. When my son asked, and he did each Monday - the day after my marital constitutional - I would tell him. Glen never wanted details, and only asked if his dad and I 'fucked'. It was the first common use of a vulgar word between us and it was used to describe my passionless marriage bed. Of course I told him what he wanted to know - would tell him anything he wanted to know at that point in our relationship. The thing was, each Monday my son would ignore me - not even finding a moment, even when alone, to touch me. Of course it was the knowledge that his father and I had been intimate that cooled his passion - if only for a single day. I had no answer for the dilemma that Monday's professed to be. Sherry still hung upon my every word - so that I was sinfully bragging my sexual exploits with my nameless lover to her weekly. Finding her reaction almost amusing - how her eyes glared at me without blinking and her face turned red and her skin shone with sweat and her nipples stood at attention. Was this only a small taste of the power my son had over me? I told her how my young lover could not get enough of my tight rear passage or ejaculating on my face. I would tell her of the more memorable exploits from that week, the details becoming more lurid and verbose at the re-telling. She admitted that she had bought her first sex toys - a dildo the size that I described my young man's cock to be and a vibrator half the size. Sherry confessed to me her own memorable masturbation sessions, revealing the parts of my tales that caused her the most passion. And smiled with pride that she shyly told me that she could not get the large dildo into her rectum, no matter how much she tried - but regularly used the smaller vibrator instead. Her reactions were turning me on and in a quiet post-climatic moment with my son, I told him about Sherry, our talks and her vibrators. Of course I was naive - telling the man I lusted and loved so deeply about the passions another woman confessed for the nameless lover of her best friend. Yet, my young lover and son could not hear enough about Sherry and it even added to our sexual relationship. He would add flavour to our relationship - only so that I could tell it to Sherry and a week later, return to tell Glen what she had been doing to herself when she masturbated to the original acts we had done. In this way we introduced sexual toys of our own in our relationship. Butt plugs, ben wa balls, dildos and vibrators and even fruit and vegetables. Since I was the recipient of these items and my son anxious to play with me and them, I loved every second. Glen also started to get more verbal about our love-making about this time. Telling me to suck the come out of his balls, that I was his come-slut and began to call me his mommy-toy. This shocked me at first, having a rather conservative... and rather silent... history between my husband and I. Glen's words thrilled me though, after the initial shock and they only echoed my own secret thoughts after all! When he called me his slave the first time I almost fell to the floor with my knees giving out and became so impassioned that we fucked on the kitchen tiles until I came with a loud scream. I am his slave - of that I did not even think it until he used it possessively. I could not think of myself in that way - but when it was thrust upon me by the man I loved and trusted more than any other person, I accepted it as the truth. I resolved, immediately after orgasming as his slave, that I would do anything and everything my son-lover wanted me to do - in essence to be the perfect slave. You see, the scales were now fully in my son's favour. The first time I was tied up happened not long after being labelled my son's slave. I lay on my back, bound to the four corners of the large dining room table, my eyes covered. My delicious son spent all afternoon playing with my body - bringing me to orgasm after orgasm - having me beg and plead as he used every means at his disposal to torture me. It was a new and thrilling feeling - to be so helpless to one's desires. My son had complete control - using his slave as he wished - and it brought our relationship to a new level. It was also about this time that I realized the middle-aged upper-middle-class suburban mother and wife had slowly disintegrated upon the hard thrusts of her son's over-sized cock. I no longer cared if my husband found out about his son and I - nor if anyone else did as well. I lived for the next moment when my son would touch me, order me to pleasure myself or him or just tell me which lingerie he wanted me to wear. As thick headed as my husband is, he is not blind or stupid. He noticed that there was a pile of new and sexy underwear in his wife's bedroom drawer. He noticed that there were purchases on our shared credit card from sex-toy stores. And when those finally caught his eye and he looked up from his morning paper he saw that his wife had perceptibly changed. How could he not? I felt like a new person - totally different from the ageing image of a wife that he thought he lived with. So he just came out and asked me one day, if I was having an affair. As brazen as I was with my submission to Glen, our son, I was startled at my husbands question and knew not how to answer. What my husband said then startled me even more - that he understood and it would be fine, as long as I was discrete. It would have been perfect if we just ended the conversation at that point - but he then asked if I loved 'him'? Without even thinking about the consequences, but could not contain just how much I loved my son and blurted out in the affirmative. My husband turned white as a sheet and then returned to his morning paper without another word. Within weeks he would move out and formal separation papers were signed. My son graduated around that time and we both were anxious for the summer together. This was a month before his father left and so I was in that bliss-filled bubble where I was invincible and could do anything for my 'Master', as I was now frequently calling him. Glen now so brazen when his father was in the house; reaching beneath my clothing or having me quickly suck his dick when his father was in the other room. He called me his slutty little slave and had me masturbate him into my morning cereal. Never one to deny the juices of our love - I relished this brazen and bawdy action - my husband eating his own breakfast across from me, my son watching me intently. Nothing was forbidden those first weeks of his summer - and we fornicated like rabbits every minute of the day that we were alone. And we were alone most of the time. If we were not fucking, then we were sucking. And not sucking then we were using our hands and fingers. And if we were not doing any of that, we were planning for the next encounter. Glen came up with some very imaginative things for us to do - and even now I shake my head in amused pleasure at the ideas that he put us through. Like the time he had me bounce up and down, fucking myself, on his big toe as he lay back on the pillows and watched me. It took me a while - but I did orgasm for that toe-bang, as Glen called it. There were numerous times that we brought food into our love-play - I, often, as the platter. My lover and I experimented and enjoyed. While I continued to feel like the luckiest woman alive - and blessed my fortune each time my son looked at me with the hungry power-filled eyes that I've grown accustomed too. Around the time that my husband moved out is when I consciously remember the feeling that my heart was being squeezed in a powerful grasp. That I was somehow loosing both myself and my soul to the lust that I had no method to control. Glen owned me body and my soul - heart and mind - I was his in all ways. That my husband left did not hit me as hard as it should have - nearly twenty years of marriage and your husband leaves you because of your affair with some faceless man. Worse, it was not an affair - he could condone that - but my love-affair. My dear husband would allow me to share my body with another but not my heart. Perhaps there is a lesson there? It was in the middle of summer when some of the spark went out of the passion between Glen and I. I translated the distance that I felt between us as a byproduct of his father moving out - perhaps guilt or anger. Its not something that I could point at and say something has changed - but Glen just felt distant to me. As if there was a part of him that I no longer held within our pleasure-filled bubble-world. Not to say that we stopped fucking like rabbits, since we had the house to ourselves he need only nod his head, grunt, or wiggle his finger and I would jump at the chance to please him. I now walked around my home in lingerie that I knew Glen loved. I wore the leather slave-collar all the time at home - and sometimes my son would attach a leash. We slept in the same bed most nights; often waking with his cock within me, or I waking him with my hungry mouth on his penis. My lover did find the time to leave the house more often in that last month of the summer. Disappearing for hours while I sat at home and waiting anxiously for his return, hungry for what he would do to me next. Of course, I did not place the past several weeks that Sherry had cancelled our weekly get together in conjunction to my son's coldness or his unknown excursions. I should have seen it coming, known the desires of young men and of middle-aged women. It had driven Glen and I together after all. Glen was going out more frequently and rather than be suspicious and jealous, I just used this time to do the normalcy of life; like shopping for groceries or cleaning the house. It was at the grocery store that I saw Sherry, for the first time since early summer, holding a small empty basket and inspecting a cucumber closely. "Hi Sherry!" The reaction that I got was not expected, she dropped the cucumber back onto its pile and her face lost all colour. Still blind, I picked up the perfectly shaped vegetable where she had dropped it, making an off-colour joke about its intended use. I noticed beads of sweat upon the forehead of my best friend and her mouth moved but no words came out. I then looked her up and down and realized she looked fabulous, dressed in a skirt shorter than I have ever seen her in and a black sheer blouse that revealed the black lace lingerie beneath. I gasped in pleasure, trying to share in my best friends fortune, "You found yourself a lover?" She too was in a marriage, even colder than my husband and I had shared. Sherry nodded rapidly, yanked the cucumber from my gasp and fled from my presence. I was left stunned at the alien actions of my best friend - before finding another perfect cucumber and continued with my shopping. Late that same afternoon Glen returned from parts unknown - he went to the fridge to get himself a drink, something that he rarely did now... as I waited upon him hand and foot - but came out with the cucumber that I had purchased earlier in the day. The side-ways smile that he wore weakened my knees and I had to lick my drying lips - knowing that more adventures were soon coming upon us. Within minutes I lay on my back upon the dinning room table, naked except for my stockings, with my head hanging off the edge. The cold cucumber was now in my own grasp, and I was heating it up by plunging it in and out of my hot wet furnace. My son was standing, still clothed, but with his hard huge dick moving in and out of my mouth. It was early in that sexy encounter that my mind was still able to form concrete thoughts - as it usually turned to mush not long into any joining. Perhaps the coldness of the vegetable slowed the boiling lava from covering all my awareness - just enough so I remembered Sherry at the grocery store. Everything flashed through my mind and I came to the conclusion that my son and best friend were having an affair. I could not accept it and rehashed my facts again and again but they all came out to the same thing - that my lover was now cheating on me. Since Glen expected me to perform, to act brazen and as unhindered as ever - it was the first time that I faked my orgasm. Even as I wiggled with pretend climax - Glen spurting his seed upon my breasts and jaw - I could not help but maliciously wonder how Sherry had used her cucumber. After that was when the disintegration of my marriage really hurt - how selfish I had been to the man I still love. My love for him did not burn with lust as it still did with Glen, but I do care and love the man whom slipped that wedding ring on my finger many years before. Had my husband known for weeks before our talk that I was sleeping around? Was what I was feeling after discovering Sherry and Glen the same that my husband had endured? How much strength it took for my husband to come out and tell me that I could continue to see the unknown man of my affair. I do not think I could ever do such a thing - now that the reality of it was thrust upon me. I was weaker than that - I wanted Glen for myself, wanted to enjoy this perfection that we shared for ever. I was very naive of course. Within me something changed when I was with Glen as well - watching him for signs of his affair with Sherry. I could not stop picturing them together whenever Glen was inside me. It was enough of a cold shower so that I regularly started to fake my orgasms with my lover. As my son shoved his dick into my ass, the sounds he was making announcing his approaching climax, I wondered if Sherry could now take a dick the size of my son's in her once virgin ass. I knew she could - Glen would see to that... just like he had for me. I still considered myself my son's submissive slut - but the burning of lust was replaced with jealousy. Besides, I had no choice did I? I could not confront him or tell him to get out of my house - it would mess up our relationship irrevocably. I needed that relationship, now, to get through my grief about my husband - still needed the love that a child can give his parent. So I continued to spread my legs, dress provocatively and wear that damned collar like the slave that I had found such wild abandon in, only weeks before. I kept a private tally - realizing with a cold fear that Glen was orgasming less and less when we were together. That our time was often spent with me masturbating for his visual sight, or maybe riding his fingers. He even had me suck or fuck him and he would not finish - continuing until I gasped in my own orgasm, more often faked than not now - and I knew that my lovers sperm had another anxious and ready repository. It was my son that took the initiative and told me about Sherry - seemingly out of the blue. He was patient as I sobbed and cried out the pain in my heart as he revealed that Sherry was a dynamic and sexy lover, whom wanted to be his slave as well. Without a care about my feelings he told me in detail of the pleasures of my best friends shorter, voluptuous body - and how it was made for pleasure. He told me he loved me - but he also told me that he loved Sherry. I asked, between sobs, if this was it? If he was going to leave me. Glen was shocked and adamantly denied this - telling me that he loved two women and he wanted to 'own', his words, those two sexy sluts forever. His use of the word 'forever' hurt - as I had thought our incestuous affair was forever, locked with love, trust and lust. Just the two of us living in our lust-filled world until the end of time. I did not deny him as he carried me to my bed and then proceeded to slowly and lovingly fuck me. I did not fake it this time - feeling his passion still for me in each tender movement that I forgot all my jealousy and rage. At least while he was within me. It was the next day that things descended further - when Glen told me that he had asked Sherry to leave her husband and three kids and move in with us. It was the first fight since before that Saturday morning when I began this sexual relationship between us. It was also the first time that my son forced me over his knee and spanked me until I sobbed in pain, grief and self pity. He fucked me viciously then, yelling at me throughout that I was his and that I would do everything to make his slave Sherry welcome! After he was sated, and climbed off - I realized that I may have orgasmed but the bruises would take days to heal. What have I gotten myself into. This all started because of the weakness of my body - the middle-age woman's burning lust that blinded me to the sin of laying with her own son. Of course Glen enjoyed this new relationship between us - having a woman that wanted to do every sexually conceivable thing together, who could not say 'no' and who practically worshipped the ground he walked on. My son was eighteen years old when we first slept together and he was also a virgin - he had no choices in the path I set us on. He became the product of my sinful lust. I was weak as I willing gave up ownership to my passion - wanted my son to control my lust as if a golden chain was tied around my heart. That submission opened the gates to an amazing passion-filled place that I never thought existed - and I was totally enamoured with the power of my own lusts. It was only a week ago - when my son confronted me with Sherry moving in. The shouting slowly disintegrated after our vicious encounter and I realized that my son was telling me that Sherry was not only going to move in but that I was expected, as my son's slave, to do anything he wanted. And he had explained in great detail some of the things Sherry and I would be doing together - the three of use in a newly created twisted little world of lust. Glen had questioned me that Sherry was so excited for this plan but why could I not feel the same? The rest of last week went slowly - the house filled with stress and a a whirlpool of emotions. My son and I slept separately and he barely looked upon me. Only once in the last week did he tell me to suck him off - and I silently did as bid. There was nothing left within me but to succumb to to my son. My heart had been opened and willingly given to the only man I dared give it too - as naive as that had been. I am no lesbian, nor would I ever admit to wanting to share my man with another - yet that is what Glen is demanding. Could the last visage of the old me be extinguished completely? Tomorrow, no later today as it is nearly four in the morning, Glen would help Sherry move her stuff into our house. I am sitting up late at night writing this diatribe, purging my soul and questioning all that has happened since my son became my lover. Perhaps the answer would pop out of this writing, perhaps I will never be able to get past my jealous anger and accept what Glen has positioned me in. Have you guessed the question yet? If I wanted to be truly submissive and return to that nirvana-world of lust and passion then I must accept Sherry as my sister-in-sin. Could I accept myself as a woman without any choice left to her? Not only accept it really - but thrive in that world that I once had, if ever so briefly. Only, this time, I would enter the world eyes wide open. The sun will soon be coming up and my life will again change - but as I must end this written purging of my soul I know not the outcome. You, unfortunately, never will. --