Title: Saving My Parents Marriage
Keywords: mF, cheat, mat, inc, mom, son, mdom, voy, nosex
Author: Caesar
Summary: The only way to save his mother, and thus his parents marriage, is to dominant her.







There was a young lady named Ciss
Who said, "I think skating's a bliss "
        But she'll never restate,
        For a wheel off her skate
.siht ekil gnihtemos pu hsinif reh edaM



Saving My Parents' Marriage

by Caesar, copyright 2004

$Revision: 1.5 $ $Date: 2008-05-22 22:19:33 $

Edited by Isaac Newton, Revision 1.3.

I knocked on the door a third time, dreading that mother would be
home, yet knowing that there was something I needed to understand and
that only my mom could supply the answers.

The door swung open and there she stood, as surprised to see her
oldest child on her doorstep in the middle of the day as I was upset
to be there.  I stepped in without waiting for the invitation; mother
moved aside silently, automatically closing the door after me.

"Hi, honey?"  She was frowning and a little quizzical in her speech,
probably concerned that something was wrong.  I never appear at my
parents' place during a work-day.

"Mom."  Suddenly, I felt stupid. My reason for coming over now seemed
crazy and more than a little insane.  This was my mother, for god's
sake!

Then she saw it.  She probably recognized the hand-written label on
the top of the compact disk in my hand.  Her head jerked and she
instinctively reacted by stepping backward two steps in her stocking
feet.  There was no doubting it! She was shocked and surprised! She
knew what the disk contained!

Suddenly, I believed.

I held up the disk and acknowledged her fears.  "He gave it to me last
night, mom."

Her mouth moved but nothing came out; her head moved slightly back and
forth as if saying to herself that this could not be happening.  I, on
the other hand, locked my eyes on her, looking with a set of new
lenses that caused her to appear different to me, her oldest child.

Mother, until the last few days, had always been my parent, my mom.
Do you understand?  Yes, she was a woman, but she was my mom first.
Then, a week ago, my sister said things that shocked me and tore down
the pedestal on which I had placed mother.  And last night, I met one
Gord Spencer, who had revealed things which disgusted me and helped to
shatter forever the image of pure motherhood that had been on that
pedestal and in my mind.  Gord had also planted seeds within my mind
that caused me a sleepless night and ultimately were my reason for
being here!

I now addressed that fallen goddess, trying to hide the turmoil in my
soul.  "Do you want me to tell you what is on it, mom?"

Mother froze, cleared her throat loudly, and then ignored my question,
asking huskily, "Why would he give you that?"

I shrugged, refusing to be diverted from directing the conversation
where I wanted it to go.  "Perhaps we should go into dad's study and
look at the hundreds of photos of you two?"  Dad kept a computer in
his office, mostly for managing his stocks on-line.

Her mouth was open and her eyes wide in shock for a full moment before
she was able to ask, "You have seen them?"

"Oh, yes!"  My voice was getting louder; my pent-up anger, disgust and
disappointment was coming out in full force now that I was confronting
my parent.  "Gord painted such a rosy picture about you two that I
couldn't help myself, mom!"

In fact, I had begun looking at the contents of the compact disk out
of denial.  I could not believe what my sister had told me, and I told
myself that my mother could not be with a man like Gord.  At first I
sat in shock, staring at each digital image, emotionally void.  Later
I forced myself to finish, to see the whole thing.  It was like
watching a wreck - not wanting to watch, but unable to leave until it
was over.

No son should have to witness such graphic sexual images of his mom as
I had sat through last evening!

Mother had stepped back another step, now finding her back pressed
against the wall.  One decades-old family picture was knocked sideways
on its nail.  She did not even seem to notice.

My sister had called me up nearly a week ago and told me the reason my
parent's marriage was having trouble for these last months.  I
listened silently, but I could not and would not believe that my
mother was having an affair with a man just one year older than I!  My
sister, being dad's confidante, told me that, on top of that, mom
flaunted and humiliated her husband with her young lover, cheating
openly on the man she had been married to for over twenty years.

So I finally approached Gord yesterday by showing up at his condo.  He
knew who I was immediately and waved me in, though I only stood in the
open doorway.  He was an attractive guy, in a dark, lean sort of way,
but had a half-sneer on his lips the whole time I was there.  I asked
the obvious question and he laughed loudly at me, telling me with
bravado that my mom was a "great fuck", a "natural submissive" who
"absolutely loves getting her ass paddled."

Something in me died at that moment, and I stood dumbly as he thrust
the compact disk into my hand, daring me to look at how much of a
'slut' my mom really was.  I had stumbled backward through the
doorway, controlling my feet when what I wanted was to run as fast as
I could from there.  As I strode away from his door, Gord shouted
after me, "You had your chance and fucked it up!"

Last night, those hours after meeting my mother's lover, had been the
longest of my life.

The pictures I had witnessed were nothing less than pornographic - the
sort of stuff you would never dare show your wife or girlfriend, the
stuff you saved for a buddy's bachelor party, the really graphic
hardcore shit.  Consider the impact that hardcore shit had when I
found my mother was in every pose, every photo.  She was doing things
I had never even imagined, sexually I mean.

Two rivers of tears were streaming down mother's cheeks, her mascara
was running ghoulishly.  She stood in terror as I stared her down for
several moments.  The question that had come to me after my sister had
started me down this path, came out, "How can you do this to dad,
mom?"  I now understood why, like today, my dad was always out of the
city on a business trip.

In almost a whisper, mother replied, "I did not mean to hurt your dad,
honey."

"Bullshit, mom!  Karry told me! Dad is humiliated at what is going
on!"

I was shouting now, my anger raw and unhindered.  I had been told
about the middle of the night calls from Gord; about mom jumping out
of her marriage bed to dress like a 'common whore', as dad expressed
it to Karry, to go to her lover; about her returning hours later,
smelling foul and used, exhausted and obviously spent.  It was tearing
him apart.  Karry had called me because she did not know what to do.
Dad refused to leave his home, leave his wife... even now!

Mother's shoulders trembled as she responded with a sob.  I felt no
pity.  Her well-manicured hands with long nails painted red came up to
hide her face.  Dad's hard work paid for those nails - and the hours
of sitting in a spa!

"Look at me when I talk to you, mother!"  I spoke in a loud, dangerous
tone - a voice I had never used on anyone, let alone my mother,
before.

Her hands reluctantly fell; her eyes were open and looked pitiful.

That response startled me and reminded me of the second question that
had kept me up all last night.  My voice trembled as I asked, "Is this
something about you and me, mom ... something sexual?"

This was the real reason I had arrived here today.  The seed that Gord
had placed in my mind seemed incredible and impossible.  What had he
meant by "You had your chance?"

Mother jerked suddenly and froze.  Her response sounded forced, stern,
"Of course not!  You're my son!"  She appeared surprised by my
question and that was enough to begin to still those dark thoughts
that had plagued me since I had left Gord's place the night before.

The tears had stopped, but she looked a fright.  How could this have
happened to my parents, to my family?  "Gord is a bastard, mom.  You
must give him up!"  This was spoken firmly and with an edge of danger
because, frankly, I felt I was on the verge of exploding.

Her eyes widened and she crossed her arms over her bosom defensively.

"I need him.  You don't understand, honey!"

I took the two steps that placed me directly in front of mother,
surprising her so that she dropped her arms and gasped as she looked
up into my glaring eyes.  There was something odd about her posture,
standing with her back against the wall, hands by her sides; it was
almost as if she were at attention.

"I've seen the pictures, mom!! I know how you 'need' him."  I
practically hissed this directly into her face, our noses almost
touching.  Mother inhaled deeply and stood frozen.

I was a head taller than she, more really since she wore only nylons
on her feet and I still had on my shoes, but I felt even taller
somehow.  It felt as if I towered over her, as if I was the parent and
she the child.  The dark place, the one that had nurtured the seeds
Gord had planted, was suggesting things again, things about mother
wanting her only son.  I was not sure why this seemed so right at that
moment, but perhaps it was because of how mother was acting!

"You are a slut, mother!"  These are words I had never thought I would
use with my parent.  What son would?

Her response was to hiss sharply before biting her bottom lip, her
blue eyes did not blink as they stared into my own.

Her silence was gnawing at my patience.  I quickly reached out to
grasp one of mother's warm hands with my own and yanked her behind me
as I strode further into the house.  Mother was breathing heavily, but
half-running, half-dragged, she came with me in silence.

I entered father's study and could feel mother tense behind me as I
yanked her to stand by the desk.  I sat down in the large leather
chair, leaving mom silently beside me.  Leaning over, I hit the power
button the computer and turned to stare up at mom.  "Your friend Gord
is very organized mom.  He put all the pictures in nice neat folders,
all by category."

Mother stood by the chair, facing the desk with a look of dread on her
face; but she was standing at attention again, looking helplessly at
my anger.

"Shall I start with the 'facials' or the 'anal' folder, mom?  I want
you to explain to me exactly how you 'need' Gord, mother.  Besides the
obvious, I mean."

Mom finally spoke, whispering, "Please don't do this, honey!"  She was
staring at the flat screen monitor on the desk in dread.

I opened a graphic viewer and then leaned over and inserted the disk
into the computer.  As soon as the sound of the drive began I looked
over my shoulder to see my parent.  She was staring at the screen,
trembling - but otherwise silent and unmoving.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about, mom?"

Her eyes moved from Gord's incredibly organized directory listing to
me but otherwise she did not say anything.  Was this normal - a mother
standing silently as her child humiliated her?  Definitely not.

Certainly our relationship had changed after I had left for college a
few years ago.  We had become more friendly.  Mother had gravitated
toward me; alternately Karry or dad hung out with us.  Mom and I met
at coffee shops, spoke about books we had read, went to the museum
together.  She had transformed from the maternal parent to my
companion and confidante.

Only, in the last couple of months, I had seen less of mother than I
was used to since coming home from school.  I now understood
why. Never had I seen this coming, this vile blackness that Gord had
introduced me to.

What he had said the night before had plagued my mind.  Was there
something more for a mother and her son than just being loving
friends?  I had recalled the conversations and interactions of recent
years, how she seemed to defer to me on just about anything, from
ordering coffee to which night to go to a play and even to what to
talk about at any given moment.  Up until last night I had loved it; I
had wanted to be around my mother who was the only person in my life
that really listened to me.  Suddenly, I was doubting that reality.  I
wondered if it had been sordid between us for years and I had not even
been aware of it.

Another thing I had thought of last evening: the topic of my various
girlfriends was a stressful topic between mom and me.  There was a
visible negative response when I spoke about any girl I was going out
with.  At that moment her pose became stricter, sometimes her legs and
arms crossed and she would not meet my eyes.  I had considered it a
small compromise, that there was really only one topic that I could
not broach with mother.  Had that been another sign?

I looked at mother standing within an arms-length of me, this time
looking at her as a man does a woman.  She was short and curvy,
comfortably built, with the shape of a Renaissance woman.  She was
well-endowed in the breast and ass department but her waist was small
enough to cause a voluptuous hourglass effect.  She usually dressed
this form to full effect.  Today was no different.

Mother wore a white, silk collared blouse with a single button undone
at the neck, which was enough to emphasize the start of her abundant
cleavage.  She wore a black cotton skirt, knee length and snug about
her hips and ass.  The blouse was tucked into the belt of the skirt
tightly, so that her curves were on display.  Further down, mothers
full, shapely calves were encased in white, sheer nylons.  All in all,
the dress code that I had come to expect from my parent, yet one that
I had never really looked upon before this moment.

Mother had been watching me looking at her, and was biting the bottom
of her lip while still standing at attention.  I also noticed, for the
first time, that her hardened nipples were pressing against the silk
of her blouse.  They appeared rather thick and large, even for her
bountiful chest.

"It's true, isn't it mom?"  I spoke this in a calmer voice than I had
yet used with her today.

Mother just stood in her firm pose.

"Gord said that I had missed my chance with you.  Are you going to
explain what that means, mom?"

Again nothing, though I did not really expect an answer at this
juncture in my visit.

"How about if I guess, OK?"  I was being maliciously playful.  The
question was purely rhetorical; I would have continued even if she had
asked me to stop.  I needed to know this, not yet sure what a positive
answer would mean.

"Let's see.  You are a middle-aged, middle-class woman that is home
alone most of the time.  I think you are probably lonely, and at your
sexual peak?"  She just stared at me, her eyes widening if anything.
"There is something else, something that no one else knew about you:
the things you think about, your fantasies, would embarrass a ten
dollar whore! Right, mom?  You think about a man, a strong man,
controlling you, using you.  That turns you on, right mom?"

Nothing.  Perhaps she was breathing heavier?

"Somehow ... perhaps you caught me masturbating when I was a
teenager."  She gasped nearly silently at the m-word. "Or perhaps you
just saw me grow up and thought of me as that man in your fantasies,
acting in the most lecherous way possible.  It was the most secret
corner of your fantasies; it was most erotic thing you could think
of?"

I lifted my voice in a question, and this time I waited for some
response.  I needed her to give some sign that she was ready to face
this with me.  She was trembling silently and randomly now, her
shoulders quivering uncontrollably.  Then, with a tiny move that I
almost missed, mother nodded affirmatively.

She was agreeing with my hypothesis.

Holy shit!

The words came easier now; her simple nod had given me fuel for my
fire. "It would be impossible, right mom?  I am your son.  You did not
want to sicken me, drive me away, right?  You knew I did not look at
you like that; I did not think of you that way.  It was your saddest
and most lonely thought, and you could not share it with another soul.

"Then came Gord.  My age, strong personality, nice-looking, and a good
sized cock.  I've see it hundreds of times in the photos on the disk,
mom; I know what he has!  He accepted that hidden part of you that you
had thought could never be released.  He used you and you loved it,
'needed' it! Right, mom?"

Another nod, firmer this time and with the tears again rolling down
her cheeks.

"Gord took everything from you, even your best-kept secret in the
furthest place in your soul - me.  He used this against you, and you
loved it... and perhaps even hated it? You were completely powerless."

Mother's knees buckled suddenly, and she sunk down to the hardwood
floor.  There on her hands and knees she stared at the floor as her
body was wracked by sobs, her eyes staring at the wood of the floor
between her hands.

The rest seemed obvious.

"You hated what you were doing to dad; you still loved him.  You hated
many of the things that Gord made you do, but you had no choice.  You
now feel powerless and lonelier than at any other point in your life.
Right, mom?"

Even with her sobs, mother nodded and I knew that even if my thoughts
were not the whole truth, they had gotten close enough to it to cause
this emotional breakdown within mother.

Staring down at her, feeling almost nothing for her despair, I
realized that some part of me had lost the respect a son is supposed
to have for his parent.  Things between us had radically changed when
she first nodded at my speculations on her fantasies about me.  I now
saw mother as a woman damaged emotionally and mentally as most of the
rest of us are, and I had been forced to face that reality and stare
at her humanity - not her motherhood, her humanity - with a stark
eye. I now knew what I could do to bring her back into the family
fold, to repair my parent's marriage!  What was important to me now
was not the role she played for me but the role she played for dad,
and even Karry.

"Stand up, mother."  It was spoken calmly, but I knew mother could
hear it through her sorrow.

She looked up at me, looking nothing less than pitiful.  She carefully
climbed back up to her nylon-covered feet on shaking legs and arms.

"Now, lift your skirt up to your waist!"

That caused her to blink in surprise and freeze for a full minute.

I had lost my respect and perhaps even my filial love for this woman
this day, but she was still something to me.  She had given birth to
me, and she cared for my father still.  I had the power, which her
fantasies had given me, to keep our family sane, and I intended to use
it for exactly that purpose.

With a firmer voice, I pressed, "Must I ask twice, mother?"

Two trembling hands reached down, grasped the hem of her skirt, and
pulled it right up over her hips to bundle about her waist.  I stared
directly into the hairless loins of my own mother!  The white nylons
stopped about mid-thigh, with black garters holding them in place.

This sight was expected - I had seen it often enough in the photos -
this hairless region and rather sexy stockings.  Perhaps it was how
Gord ordered her to dress.  The woman before me had no choice but to
obey.

She had stopped crying, had stopped trembling, and was again biting
the bottom of her lip.

"Is that how Gord likes you to keep it, mom?"  I nodded with my chin
at the full, smooth, pale flesh about her outer labia.

A throaty harsh response: "Yes".

I nodded. "I like it too.  You will keep it like that for me."

She blinked a few times and then nodded.  "Yes, honey."

"I want to see your breasts."  This request was fashioned so she must
decide how to fulfil it.

She barely paused as she carefully unbuttoned her blouse completely.
Then she reached in and dug, one at a time, into the sheer white cups
of her brassiere to yank herself out.  She stood again at attention,
with her large breasts hanging lewdly out the top of her brassiere.
The nipples were noticeably hard and wrinkled.

You might expect I would have been anxious, excited about the
possibilities ahead of me with this woman?  Well, I had seen her do so
much in those damn photos that I would have been hard-pressed to come
up with anything original.  As for being anxious, I was still working
to hold my anger, to use my wild emotions to take control of my own
mother, to save her and our family.

She needed this, she needed me to do this.  I understood everything
now, as amazing as the reality was.  And part of that reality was that
if I had done something like this years ago, there would never have
been any Gord.

"Are you wet, mother?"

"Yes, honey."  No pause this time.

"'Honey'?"  I allowed some of my anger to be revealed in my voice.

She looked suddenly nervous and mumbled an apology, and then corrected
herself.

"Yes, Master."

This was the final confirmation that my hypothesis had been correct,
that it had been I who had been her secret Master in her fantasies for
many years.  Even through her nervousness I saw a new spark within
her, an adolescent excitement that threatened to bubble out of her.

"Over to the couch, mom, and get on your knees facing the wall!"
There was a brown leather couch against the wall by the door – it
was rarely used - that mother immediately rushed toward.  I saw her
assume a position she took too naturally: feet spread, knees on the
edge of the couch, elbows on the top edge and her face practically
touching the stark white wall.  Mother's big round ass was thrust
toward me, her back angled perfectly downward while her large heavy
breasts hung by gravity from her chest to swing pendulously beneath
her.

She was trembling again.

I stood up from the chair and strode to a place right behind her,
studying this woman that I must now control, use.  The first thing I
noticed was that her vagina was naturally spread, looking pink and
very wet.  It was so wet that the insides of her soft thighs were damp
with the juices and the top edge of one stocking was darker where it
was becoming soaked!  There, higher up along the natural path, was her
wrinkled pink anus.  I remembered Gord's words and the abundant photos
of this place and how it was used.

Slowly, the small noise easily heard by my parent, I unbuckled and
then removed my leather belt from my waist.  She was trembling more
violently now, panting.

"You will never see Gord again, mother; and if he tries to contact
you, you will tell me."

Her head nodded but she was panting so loudly she appeared not to be
able to speak.

The belt flew through the air and struck that large target with all
the force of my anger.  The red welt was already horrific on her
smooth pale flesh as I demanded, "Answer me!"

She rushed with her response, "I will tell you! Yes, Master!"

"You belong to me now, mother.  Gord is nothing to you."

"Yes Master."

Good girl.  I did not need to use the belt that time.  Yet, for good
measure, I swung three more times and mother screamed in response.
She was in pain but I could tell by the way her body moved that she
was on fire, sexually enthralled.

"The night dad gets back, you will bed him as you have never done
before."

Another spank as she paused in surprise to my last command.

"Yes, Master!"

"You will tell him the truth: that you had acted stupidly, but that
Gord is nothing to you anymore.  You will beg his forgiveness!"

"Yes, Master."  I could hear astonishment in her voice.  Possibly she
was pleased at the direction I was forcing her to take.

Another strike. "Who do you belong to, mother?"

"You, Master!"

I let the belt fall to the floor, with aloud echo that seemed to cause
her to jerk as if struck yet again.

I strode back to the leather chair, and after I was again comfortable,
I calmly ordered my waiting parent, "Reach between your legs and bring
yourself off, slut."

She did not hesitate.  One hand slipped between her full thighs and I
saw two fingers sink into her hairless folds.  In fact, she anxiously
did as ordered.  Mother gasped suddenly as the other hand slipped over
her bundled skirt to begin to agitate her clitoris, leaving her
shoulders on the top edge of the couch for balance.

Watching the woman that raised you orgasm is something very odd to
witness, yet I knew I would see it frequently from now on.  She hissed
as she came; her back and thigh jerked, which caused a delightful
movement of her breasts.  The inside of her stocking-covered thighs,
down to her knees, was coated in her thick, clear juices.

Only when she was done did I order, "Get naked, but leave on the
stockings and garter belt."  I had given her barely a heartbeat of
time to recover so she moved thickly but with purpose.

It was obvious mother was happy; she needed this.  Gord had been a
pale imitation for what she thought she could never attain - me.  I
realized that the photos meant nothing, that her fantasy was coming
true starting now.  Gord had only been a frivolous experiment in her
awakening desires.

"Now crawl to me, mother."  She had discarded her clothing without
thought, so my near-naked, voluptuous mother did as ordered and
crawled the few meters to kneel before me.  Mother was trying not to
smile, but her happiness was winning over her self respect.

I reached out and stroked her dark-brown, curly hair tenderly.  "You
belong to me now, mother."

She smiled widely. "Yes, Master."

"That means you have no say about anything.  You are but a woman
waiting to be used.  Does that bother you, mother?"

"No, Master."  I do not remember ever seeing my parent smile so
broadly or seem so happy.  The dark mascara still beneath her eyes
caused her to look like a goth.

"You will come to me twice a week, more if I request.  I will use you,
hurt you, tie you up, and fuck you!"

Her nostrils flared suddenly, but she did not say a word, watching
anxiously.

"The rest of the week you will be a loving wife and mother.  Do you
understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Father may not know it, but he has my permission to use your body
anytime and in any way he sees fit.  You will never deny him, as you
can never deny me.  Right, mother?"

"Of course, Master."

"You will dress less provocatively.  You will appear, for all outward
appearances, like a happy, middle-aged wife and mother.  Only in
private with me will you allow the real woman, the submissive slut, to
appear."

"I understand, Master."

I nodded, knowing she did.

My hand reached out and I fondled her hard, thick nipple between a
thumb and forefinger.  Amazingly, after all that had transpired this
day, this was the first erotic touch between us.  She shivered
violently and closed her eyes with a wide smile.

"Now... you will suck me off, and then I must get back to work - but
you better show some skill or I will have you sucking a candle for the
next three hours!"

She nodded anxiously, her eyes already staring at my crotch hungrily.

"Go ahead, mother.  Take it out.  I know you want to."

She gave me a wide smile of agreement and happiness before bringing
two trembling hands up to unzip my slacks.  Mother reached in to draw
my half-hard penis into her small warm hand.  I saw her momentary
surprise that I was not fully hard, not as obviously excited as she
was, yet she seemed to forget that as she leaned forward to do as she
had been commanded.

Watching my mother move her head up and down above my lap was surreal.
I saw that she had her eyes closed.  "Look up at me as you suck,
mother!"

She did, staring up at me with those big eyes, filled with pleasure as
she did the act that was both illegal and immoral.  Yet I knew there
was not anything else in this world that she would rather be doing.

The truth of that moment was that it was the best oral sex that I had
ever received; that the sight of her big eyes staring into mine, of
her concave cheeks sucking me, of her lips widely encircling my penis
was the most erotic scene of my life.  Not until that moment had I
thought of our sexual contact as anything else but a chore that I had
to do to exert control over mother for the sake of the family as a
whole.  This was the first spark that my actions might not be a chore
at all, that instead they might be a pleasure.

I lasted rather a long while, longer than I think mother would have
expected.  Yet she did not pause or falter in her expressive
movements, giving pleasure to her only son the way she had been
forbidden to do up to that moment.  It was as if she was showing me
how much she loved me by sucking me here and now.

Perhaps I was as warped as my mother - she for having desired this, me
for concluding that this was the path we would now take.  Yet it was
now evident that it might not be so bad after all.

Mother swallowed loudly as my cock jerked within her mouth, shooting
my seed into her stomach forcibly.  Her eyes were again watering, this
time with happiness.

--