Title: Real Slut
Keywords: mF, mf, fF, group, cheat, teen, mat, inc, mom, son, daughter, brother, sister, mdom
Author: Caesar
Summary: Remember the journey, how the plain quiet middle-aged mom was turning into a slut by her son.

Said a happy young man of Fort Drum :
"What care I for this shortage of gum?
My favorite chew
Is a condom or two,
With a goodly amount of fresh come."

Real Slut

$Revision: 1.1 $ $Date: 2008-05-22 22:19:33 $

On the outside I am a forty-four year-old wife, mother and teacher. I
have a soft, almost sweet, smile that seems to put people at their
ease. It is one of the few redeeming features about me that anyone
may notice or remember.

I grew up invisible - the introverted child in the age of personal
expression and no restraints. I was the good kid, the quiet one. My
elder sister the wild child, out all hours, in trouble all the time.
And my younger brother, the jock, all muscle and no brain - the hope
of my parents.

My name is Carol and I did not discover who I really was until I
turned forty-two years-old. Until that time I was the sad lonely
plain looking middle-aged woman in the mirror. Sure I've always felt
something was wrong, that life was not supposed to be this way - day
in and out, with no hope in sight. And I'm not just talking about
sex, I'm talking about being happy.

As a young teenager I felt the stirrings of puberty and touched myself
secretly, guilt-ridden every time, in the darkness and beneath the
covers of my bed. My fantasies were about romantic events that could
never be. In the day I was teased and bullied not just from the kids
at school but by my own older sister. I wasn't happy - so I withdrew
into books. I giggled child-like behind my hand at crude images or
humour that I was accidentally exposed too.

The day my mother caught me masturbating still stings as the most
humiliating moment in my life. The light shot on and my door was open
with mother standing looking shocked and angry at the end of my bed.
Having practised touching myself for nearly two years I felt
comfortable with my body, at least in the dark, so the sheet was down
and my bare loins spread. Mother strode up to me, while I sat up
muttering my apologies, she simply reached back with her hand and
swung with all her might across my cheek. That seemed the moment in
my life that things fell to a dull existence - graduation, marriage,
toddlers.

I did what I thought a good wife did - I kept the house clean and
tidy, prepared food that my husband enjoyed for each meal, raised two
children. Since I was not allowed to work and friends were other
wives of my husbands buddies and there was always something subdued
about each of us, between us.

Having an affair never entered my mind. The desires that burned hot
were ignored until they threatened to overflow - then, and only then,
did I indulge in masturbation. My fantasies were no longer innocent
and romantic - I thought of hard cocks moving in and out of my
body. It was my greatest sin in this life, this indulgent fantasy -
but I needed it like I needed to breath and denied myself the guilt I
felt as a young girl because this was a secret that I knew could never
turn into reality, therefore could never be exposed.

I caught David my son, my youngest child, watching me through a slit
in the blinds late one night. All of fifteen, smart but with his
mother's plain features. Anger course through me, remembered
humiliation from having been caught by mother all those years ago and
I stalked through our home to my son's room and shoved the door open.
There on the bed was my boy, naked, his teenage penis hard and looking
red and angry within his fist as he pumped it rapidly. He froze at my
abrupt entrance, I froze at the sight of my child looking in all
respects a man. Moments ago he had been spying on me at my most
private of moments and now here he was masturbating - a bell was going
off in my head but I felt dizzy and my legs week. I backed out of
there quickly and half ran to my room, forgetting to close my door as
I fell onto my recently vacated bed.

"Mom?" He was at my door but I could not look up. I could not tell
you how long it had been since I had caught him.

In my mind all I could see was that hard penis, my son's cock. I've
never seen a man so exposed, so naked - touching himself like that.
Still that bell rang in the back of my head but I did not devote a
seconds time to consider it - even if I should have.

When I did look up I did it uncontrollably because I wanted to see if
my son was still naked, his hard loins drawing me like a magnet.
David stood red of face looking embarrassed, sweat pants covering him
from navel to ankle.

We starred at each other openly, nervously and silently. When I
quickly looked down and saw that most of one thigh was exposed, having
followed my sons gaze, I quickly pulled my robe over the bare flesh.
Looking back up, there was a new dent in my son's light gray sweat
pants.

It was that point that the bell stopped ringing in my head and I
realized that must have been because of what my son had witnessed
through my window that caused him to rush to his room to masturbate.
The hard cock, then as it was now, was because of me!

My head swooned and I laboured for breath and fell back onto my pillow
with my whole body warm and tingling.

A few seconds after my son was seated next to me caressing my brow,
looking worried though a quick look confirmed his penis was still hard
beneath his pants. His lips descended almost in slow motion and
touched my forehead tenderly, his eyes shy and bold all at the same
time looking into my own. The lips kissed me again and again, soft
and warmly from forehead to the tip of my nose then down a cheek to my
chin. The barely heard moan was from me and it could not sound more
alien.

I kissed back, though timid with numbness, and moaned into my son's
mouth as his tongue forced my lips wide. I could feel his heat and
his passion and it excited and surprised me - never experiencing
someone so obviously turned on in my life. His hand trembled as it
slipped beneath my robe to find my breast bare and my nipple hard and
sensitive. He was rushing, yanking and fumbling at the knot at my
waist, shoving my robe open, pushing my soft thighs wide, kneeling
between them.

Thinking back the most amazing thing to me was that I simply accepted
it all, allowing my child to do this without a word of protest or
warning. There was no warning sirens, no guilt, no blaring voice
shouting 'adulterer', 'incest', 'son fucker'! He sunk his hard
teenage cock into my ready body and nothing would ever be the same.
My climax was electric and my body spasmed as my lovely son drove his
cock in and out of my body.

It was my son David that discovered the slut within his mother - the
woman that no one, that included I, knew existed.

Over the years, my older sister had married three times and had a
succession of older boyfriends. This is true today. I remember one
horrific Thanksgiving when my young brother called our older sister a
'slut' - the family froze in shock before my sister, with hand on her
hip in her classic pose, and responded that at least she knew how to
have fun. She lives in a trailer park now, her three kids barely even
speak to her, when she isn't waitressing or bringing some old hairy
bald guy home. We don't speak - we never did. But somehow, after
that day with David, I understood her that much more.

The power of our sexuality is amazingly sobering. David held mine
within the palm of his hand and the fifteen year-old did not take long
to figure that out. We had sex as often as he wished after that first
time, and since he was a normal teenage boy in that regard, it was a
lot. I received more cock in that first month than I did in my first
five years of marriage and I loved it.

My 'real' life paled in comparison to this discovery of mine, so it
was my son that ensured his father and my husband did not find out
what was going on in his own home. This wasn't nearly as hard as you
may imagine, since the man I married barely even looked at me any more
and was rarely home. It was my daughter, David's younger sister that
was tougher - but six months into the affair my son told me that they
had come to an understanding and my daughter was happy for us. It was
all so surreal as it was also empowering.

I spread my legs or got on my knees or crawled on the floor like an
animal - my sex was perpetually wet when my son ordered me to strip,
my climax on a hair trigger whenever I felt him enter me. This new me
had no limits - felt pleasure to please - I did things I had not
imagined in so many years of sordid desperate fantasies, things that
may have even turned that young teenage girl off if she had considered
them.

And I felt so sexy! For the first time in my whole life someone
looked at me with love and desire and passion. The first time I wore
thigh high stockings and my son got so turned on that he could not
wait to bend me over the back of our couch to fuck - I climaxed twice
to his. My son took thousands of sexy photos - from the cheesecake
shots to full insertion - so proud of these he was, that I did not
feel anything but pride when he showed a select number of his friends.

I was desired and I reacted accordingly - wantonly.

Nothing was forbidden, everything was exciting and fun.

For the first time in my life I was happy, I was having fun and I knew
what I wanted!

Even in the early years when my husband wanted to use my body it was
never with the passion that I felt with my boy. With my husband I
endured rather than enjoyed - it was a duty rather than pleasure. But
I could not get enough of my son, there were never enough orgasms or
never any action too far.

The first time David showed me off to another was when I was ordered
to blow my son with his best friend watching from across the room. My
son shot all over my face then nodded for me to look over my shoulder
at his friend, seated with a red face and jerking his little pink cock
rapidly.

It was common, after that, to be exposed to used in front of his
friends and eventually even my daughter, David's young sister. I
didn't care, I would have fucked my son in front of his father if the
boy asked me too. David told me sternly that I was not to allow any
of his friends access to my body without his permission - odd because
not one had touched me up to that time and I could never conceive
being with anyone but my son. Yet only a few weeks afterwards, his
two friends and him took turns fucking me almost to unconsciousness so
that my whole awareness was cock cock and more cock!

I loved it.

David shared me with three of his best male buddies, virgins all
before they fucked me, and his female buddy that he had grown up with.
That was odd but pleasurable - touching another female body, younger
and sexier than I've ever felt when I was that age, my son watching
and then joining in to a wonderful accumulation of the night.

Does it sound as if I was taking trains of young cocks daily - that my
son had little regard for me? It wasn't like that at all - each of
his four friends called me Mame or missus when they fucked me and it
was a rare event, not common. The kids showed me respect, almost
fawning over me so that my ego and my pride was easily elevated -
David demanded it of his friends. Strange that he did not always take
his own advice.

A more complicated mother-son relationship no one could imagine but
strangely it worked for us.

One thing is for sure, I've given up all my parental power over my
son. The few times I've tried to exert it, it just came right back at
me tenfold so that I learned to not even try. My son treated me like
a princess one moment and then slapping me and treating me like a dog
the next - but throughout there was respect, I was his mother and he
knew that it was his duty to care for me. Odd isn't it? That my son
could take a leather belt to my bottom one weekend and the next, both
of us dressing up in our finest clothing and enjoying a private candle
lit dinner together before making love before the fireplace.

Do not think that my life was extremes - most days it was quiet and
introspective. The laundry to do, the groceries to buy, calling
around to the other parents of my daughters soccer team as I had
volunteered as a good parent should. But my days also included more
personal grooming than at any other time in my adult life - trimming
the hair between my legs, primping my hair so it was just perfect.
And my attire had changed, though mostly it was beneath the outer
shell that everyone saw. David liked his old mom to stay the same on
the outside but in lace, usually white beneath - and I felt sexy
standing at the grocery store checkout with bikini lace crotch
panties, thigh high stockings and no one the wiser.

A day rarely went by, I should add, that my son did not enter my body
with his hard throbbing cock. Usually quick fucks in his room or
laundry room, a blow job in the bathroom or kitchen - with his sister
and father in another part of the house. These were not as fulfilling
as the buffet of desire that we sometimes enjoyed - spending hours,
even days given the chance, exploring and enjoying the other.

It was in these extended encounters that the extreme nature of my
son's desires surfaced. Where my son surprised me by tying me up one
Saturday afternoon or at another time he urinated all over my breasts.
It was these times that David shared his mom with his friends, took
photos of me covered in sperm or a mouth full of cock or cunt.

David's friends are like him, bright but plain looking and most
definitely anti-social, nerds if you will. Having sex with me changed
their lives - perhaps not for the better, because more than one talked
about seducing their parent as well.

Yes, its not all peaches and cream. I felt a little guilty when the
boys talked and conspired to seduce their mother's - talking as if I
were invisible, my son giving pointers and was the experienced voice
of the group. And then there was the girl - my sons friend since grad
school. The first time I saw my sons familiar hard cock sink into
that young girls hard sexy body I almost cried with despair and
jealousy. And the second time my son and I had anal sex, he was so
rough and passionate that he tore my anus so that I was sore for
nearly two weeks afterwards.

Don't get me wrong, I love anal sex now - in all its forms.

After saying all that - there seems to be a flip side to each of those
events. The boys looked to me when narrowing down their plans to fuck
their mom's and I preached patience and masturbation. But it was
watching my daughters face as her brother fucked her that really cured
me of jealousy - that she had the chance at pleasure that I had only
started to experience well into my forties.

You read that right, David was having sex with his younger sister. I
don't know if it started the night the three of us shared my son's
small bed or if the two had started before then. But my daughter had
been watching us, openly and secretly, for some time - her hand often
beneath her panty. Both of us wearing lingerie out of some men's
fantasy my son and daughter took turns kissing, licking and fingering
me. Then my daughter sat on my face - not the first cunt I've eaten,
but the second if truth be told - it was certainly the sweetest! My
daughter held my nylon covered ankles high as her brother ploughed in
and out of my field until I screamed into the cunt above me in orgasm.
The young thing did not hesitate,cleaning her brother's dripping cock
before laying next to me for her brother to mount her. I watched as a
spectator - my grief turning into some dark powerful excitement. My
love for my children overflowed me and I passionately kissed my
daughter as the two kids climaxed nearly at the same time.

Strangely my daughter and my relationship became better, never overtly
sexual unless David desired it to be so. We became friends,
confidants and shared the biggest thing of all, an incestuous lover.
I noticed that David treated his younger sister differently as well -
less dominant than he tended to treat me. They were like young lovers
and I was so proud and happy for them that I could cry.

Now, two years after it began, we continue as strongly as before.
There may be less uncertainty now and more confidence on my son's part
and I easily lived the role of my son's private slut with joy.

I've never learned if any of his friends succeeded in seducing their
mothers - but I think at least one succeeded. At least my son and his
friends know discretion, our roles in private separate from how they
treat me in public as if there were a brick wall separating them.

My son fucked the neighbour girl a couple times a month, maybe -
usually in his room. His sister was much more frequent, twice or
thrice a week for the most part - often sleeping the night together
during the week.

So when you see that plain looking petite middle-aged woman before you
at the grocery store, quiet of voice, an easy smile and with
fluttering eyelashes - and a late teenager comes up with the missing
item to add, watch the boys hands and not the way the two seem to look
at each other. Do you see his hand slip into the small of her back?
Down lower over the bubble roundness, pressing the thin skirt into her
crack - does it shock you that these two look like mother and son?