From hm1964@hotmail.com Mon Jun 02 15:32:21 1997
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From: hm1964@hotmail.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Subject: RP: Deirdre - Hidden
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Date: 2 Jun 1997 19:32:21 GMT
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<I am only a reposter>

Request to alt.sex.stories posters: if your posting does not include a story, 
please don't post it to alt.sex.stories.  Please post it to alt.sex.stories.d.


Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people, often 
depict "breaking some rules".  Do not read this story if you believe fantasy 
stories should never depict situations undesirable in real life.  Be warned 
that you may not be comfortable with the sexual situations.  Do not read this 
story if you are less than 18 years of age.

Permission granted to repost, to make available online, and to publish in 
low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups if attributed to deirdre.  Permission 
granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this type of material if 
attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is sent to AIDS research in the 
name of deirdre. -- deirdre


Hidden
by deirdre, 12/9/95

The noise!  I couldn't be caught--I just couldn't.  I looked around in a 
panic.  They were in the house and I could hear them coming!  The closet.  I 
went for it as quickly as I could, and sat back in the corner.  I didn't even 
shut the door: it would be too noisy.

They came in.  Why!?  Why had I done this?  I was dead; I knew it.  It was so 
stupid, nosing around their room when they could show up any time.

Well, I couldn't help but be curious.  The noises coming from their room so 
many nights.  I always stayed in my own room, but I couldn't help hearing the 
noises.  My own parents!  Naturally I'd wonder what was going on.

It had to be sex of some kind.  Yeah, I'd read a bit and heard a bit: 
sometimes people, well, "play".  Do weird things.  My own parents?  It was 
hard to imagine them, but that had to be it.  It had preyed on me.  I had to 
see if I could find out about it.

And now I was caught in their room.  I'd been looking through some of the 
drawers, and had found nothing.  Not a thing out of the ordinary.

"So..." It was Mom's voice.  There was no answer, though I was sure she was 
talking to Dad.  The door shut.  Now I was *really* trapped.  "So you 
*enjoyed* yourself tonight?" she continued.

Still silence.  She continued again: "Looking at that *Ellen*?"

Another awkward silence.  Then finally Dad's voice: "Honey, I..."

"Quiet!" she said suddenly.  Then: "I like it better when you *don't* talk."  
I heard walking.  And more: one of them was practically circling the room.  
"Looking at little Ellen.  Again?  Probably..."

No answer.

"Take your clothes off!"  It was still Mom talking!  She paused again and I 
heard it: the rustle of clothes.  And a slight female giggle, then silence.

"She might get your attention, but*I* have your obedience, don't I?"

"Yes ma'am."

She laughed out loud.  "And your naked body!  What are you?"

"A worm."

"You got *that* right.  You're *my* worm, aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And it's looking like you *like* it, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Better than looking at your Ellen?"

"Yes ma'am."

"But you *did* get hard looking at her, didn't you?"

"Uh, no ma'am."

She laughed again.  The sound of her laugh; I couldn't believe this was Mom!  
I'd suspected something, and I'd wanted to know, but it was still a shock.  
"Ha!  Well, maybe not *hard*, but she *did* interest you, didn't she?"

"Uh, yes ma'am."

"Mmm..." Somehow she didn't exactly sound upset--more like she was happy about 
it, or at least enjoying herself.  "Maybe just a little bit hard?"

"Maybe, ma'am."

"Think about what she'd be like naked?"

"Yes ma'am."

"*Now* we're getting somewhere.  Thinking about another woman right there in 
front of your *wife*!  What are you?"

"A worm, ma'am."

"Thinking about fucking her?"  Even after all that, it blew me away, hearing 
that word from Mom!

"Uh, yes ma'am."

"Undoubtedly.  Her ass, right?"

"Yes ma'am."  I couldn't believe this!

"Yep, I saw you eying that little rear of hers.  And *I* know how your mind 
works, don't I?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, *we* know what to do about *this*, don't we?"

Dad didn't answer, but I heard walking, then the sound of a drawer.  I thought 
about leaning closer to the door to peek, but my fear was *much* stronger than 
my curiosity and I wasn't about to chance it.

"Are you ready?"

No answer.  Then she giggled again.  "Ok, buster, lean over."

Then I heard movement, then breathing.  This was unreal: how could they be 
doing this?  I didn't know what it was, but ideas were flying through my mind. 
 
"You like *this*, don't you?" came Mom's voice.  Still no answer.  "My *own* 
little Ellen!"

It was too much.  I *had* to see.  I quietly leaned over until I could see 
more of the room out the door.  I slowly and cautiously moved my head so as to 
see more toward the center of the room.  The first of them I saw was Dad's 
head.

Dad was lying over the edge of the bed, face down.  I leaned further.  And 
just stared.  Mom was still dressed, same as she was when they'd gone out.  
She was behind Dad, holding something, pushing it in his rear!  And pulling 
and pushing.

I watched, unable to stop.  I realized that Dad's hands were behind his back.  
Handcuffs of some kind!  "Are *you* my little Ellen?" came Mom's voice.  It 
startled me and I withdrew.

"Uh..."

"*My* little slut... to do with as I please."  She giggled again.

"Yes... ma'am..." He seemed to be struggling to talk rather than grunt.

"You're going to come now, aren't you?"  No answer.  "Pathetic worm..."  Then 
just more noises.  They went on for a while.

"Stand up!"  Once again, it was so sudden.  I heard movement, then she giggled 
again.  "You must *really* want to come now."

"Yes ma'am."

"You want me to touch that cock?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, you'll have to do better than *that*."

"Uh, *please* touch my cock."  Dad was *begging* Mom for sex and she was 
playing it to the hilt.  *My* parents!

Another giggle.  "Begging your wife again, aren't you?"

"Yes... *please*!"

"And you're gonna pleasure *me*, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

"And *love* it too, I'll bet.  And you think *I'll* touch you?"

"Please!"

"After ignoring your wife for whatsername?"

No answer.  Then I heard clicking.  "Take care of *yourself*.  In the bathroom 
so I don't have to watch."

I heard walking and sounds from the bathroom.  And more walking and movement 
in the room.  Suddenly she was right at the closet door.

You can't imagine the panic I felt--I thought she'd hear my heart if nothing 
else.  I was back as far as I could go into the corner and the hanging clothes 
certainly obscured things.

I was *sure* she'd see me.  So sure of it.  But then she was gone.  More 
sounds of movement and rustling.  Then her voice: "You done?  Come out here."

More steps, then she spoke again: "Get dressed."

"Hon?"  He sounded confused.

"I said get dressed."  There was no more talking, but more sounds of movement 
and dressing.  Then I heard the door open.  "Come on."  Then steps away from 
the room, then silence.

I quietly peered out.  Should I run now?  I heard the front door.  Silence.  
Then the car.  I was out in a flash.

I lay in my room--I couldn't believe I was so lucky.  It seemed so strange, 
them going back out like that.  I lay in bed.  And masturbated.

And lay.  Even after I'd come, I still just lay there, thinking about it.  Not 
so excited any more: just wondering about Mom and Dad!  Who'd ever guess that 
*they* did stuff like *that*?  I thought about going and checking the room 
again.  She'd had a dildo or something.  And the handcuffs!  But I wasn't 
about to put myself in *that* position again.  I heard them return as I lay in 
my bed, and heard some noises, then silence.  Well, no noises that could have 
been like what they were doing before.  I just lay in the dark, thinking about 
it.  And I did come again.

She was in the kitchen when I came in in the morning.  No sign of Dad, but 
he'd be gone by this time.  She still looked like the same old Mom, though my 
mind raced as I went about getting some cereal and stuff.  She'd said "Good 
Morning," and I'd probably mumbled my reply--I knew I had to start paying 
attention if I wanted to get through the morning.

She sat with me while I ate, reading the paper.  Then I was done and putting 
my stuff at the sink.  When I turned around, she was looking at me.  "Well, 
Bobby?" she said.

"What?" I answered.

"You think I didn't see you?"  I stood there, and a strange calm came over me. 
 
In two seconds I realized I should be panicking, but by that time I was all 
right.  Strangely calm.  Scared, but not feeling any urges to run out the 
door.

"Uh, Mom, I'm sorry."

"What were you doing?"

"I'm sorry Mom!  I was just curious."

She sat there, silently for a while.  "It's kind of a shock discovering that 
someone is spying on your most private moments," she said.  I felt so awful.  
"I'm *really* ashamed of you."

"Mom, I'm sorry!"  I almost felt like I was going to cry.

"What am I going to do with you?  I *should* tell your dad."

No!  I didn't want that!  You have to believe me when I say that the "Dad" 
that I saw the night before was *nothing* like Dad when he was mad!  I stared 
at Mom.  In my mind I was pleading with her to do anything else.  "You know, 
you aren't too big to spank," she finally said.

It was ridiculous.  I hadn't been spanked in years.  I was in high school, for 
God's sake.  She was just threatening--I could tell.  It was *definitely* 
ridiculous: I was bigger than *she* was.

"Come here," she went on.  I stared at her.  I walked over, not knowing what 
to make of this.

"Lie down over here," she said, patting her thighs.  I stared.  "Do it!"

I did it.  I lay face down over her lap.  She didn't do anything for a second. 
 
"Get up and get those jeans down," she finally said.

So I stood up, and looked at her.  "Won't do much good through *that*," she 
said, obviously meaning my jeans.  After a pause, my fingers went to the 
button.  And I found myself sliding my jeans down right there in front of Mom.

She patted her thighs again, looking at me.  There I was, jeans around my 
ankles, once again lying over my mother's lap.  I felt her hand on the 
waistband of my underpants.  And they were pulled down, around my thighs.

Her hand.  It went right on my cock.  She giggled.  My cock was hard.  "Just 
like the father," she said, then: "You'd better get out of here."  Then a 
second later: "Now!"

I felt her sort of pushing me off with my legs and I got up and quickly got 
pants up again.  She wasn't looking at me.  I could tell she was looking away 
on purpose.  "Kate should know what you are like," she said, and giggled.  I 
was back in my room in seconds.

I heard her leave.  I masturbated.

But I have to explain Kate.  She's my age and the daughter of one of Mom's 
best friends.  Mom had this fantasy that Kate and I should be going together.  
Kate's OK, but she wasn't interested in me and I certainly wasn't interested 
in her.  But Mom liked to talk about it.

Believe me, that night and morning never left my thoughts the whole day.  
Whatever I did, I found my mind drifting back.  Mom certainly had sides that 
I'd never imagined, even if I *did* imagine *something* going on in their 
bedroom.

The spanking business.  And the way she felt me.  She could have spanked me!  
I'd have taken it, at that moment.  I was sure of it.  Why did she do that?  
Why did she start that, and then just stop?  Had she really thought that it 
would be like spanking a little boy or something?  With my rear bare?

I was a little tongue-tied the next time I saw her, but she didn't seem put-
off or anything.  She gave me this sly little look, almost like we were having 
a private joke or something.  But that was it.  All was back to normal.  Other 
than the state of my mind, and the masturbating I did, thinking about Mom.

I sat in the corner of the closet, looking up at Mom.  I don't know what had 
got into me.  I was in their closet again, and they'd come in.  No, it wasn't 
the same as before, but Mom had told Dad to get undressed and then sent him to 
the shower.  Then she'd appeared at the closet door.

But she hadn't left--not this time.  She'd pushed the clothes to the side and 
looked down at me.  She just stared, giving me an expression as if I were a 
mischievous child or something.  "Out!" she said.  I was up and out of there.

The next morning, I was slow coming into the kitchen.  There she was, reading 
the paper.  I was still in my pajamas and robe.

She put the paper down and just looked at me.  She didn't look angry.  Just a 
strange, determined look.  "Ok, junior, come here," she said, her voice 
sounding sarcastic.  I came.

She patted her lap.  I slipped the robe off and lay over it, just in my 
pajamas.  For a second, nothing happened, then she spoke again: "You're a 
*very* naughty boy!"

Then I felt her hands at the waistband of my pajama pants.  Then they were 
down.  "Let's see... how long as it been since you've had a spanking?"

I couldn't say exactly how many years.  Ten?  I didn't speak.  Suddenly, pain 
shot through me, my rear.  She'd spanked me.  It was happening.  "Kate 
*definitely* has to get to know the *real you*," she said.  More pain.  And 
again.

She stopped.  "Let's see, how many do you deserve?  How about ten?"

I lay there.  She smacked me again and again.  Then she stopped.

"Stand," she said.  I stood: "No, leave them down!"  I'd almost pulled up my 
pajama pants.

I stood there, my cock sticking straight out.  She stared right at it.  "OK, 
give me a show," she said.  She glanced up at my eyes for a second, then when 
I didn't move, looked me steadily in the eye.  "Come on, make it spurt."

She held my gaze.  "Now."  She spoke it so calmly.  I started stroking myself, 
standing right there in front of Mom.  She didn't move her eyes at all: just 
stared into mine.  I stared right back.

It didn't take long.  Right on the kitchen floor.  She'd never broken her gaze 
and neither had I.  Then suddenly she smiled this wicked smile, and stood and 
walked out.

I looked down at the floor.  I cleaned it up and went and showered.  The next 
time I saw her, she looked at me with a knowing smile, then suddenly spoke in 
an angry voice:  "Be ready for that tomorrow morning... but don't you 
*ever*... go in that closet again!"

And let me tell you: she hadn't been truly angry with Dad in the bedroom even 
once when I heard her.  Or when she was spanking me.  But at that moment, I 
*knew* I'd better not cross her again.  And I didn't.

But the next morning, she spanked me again.  Ten times.  But this time, when I 
masturbated, she watched my cock instead of staring me down.  When I'd 
finished, she gave a little giggle and I saw her smirk.  I left.  She must 
have cleaned the floor.

And the next morning, another spanking.  And the next.  I wondered: how long 
would this last?  But I loved it so much.

But the next morning when I came out, Mom was sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. 
Phillips, talking.  There I was in my pajamas and robe.  I just went and got 
my cereal and bowl.

I'd just gotten everything ready, and realized they'd stopped talking, and 
were looking at me.  I paused.  Finally Mrs. Phillips spoke: "Barb tells me 
you take after your father."

I stood there, I'm sure an involuntary smile forming on my face, trying to 
think of the right answer.  What was Mom playing at, saying that?  "Uh...," I 
started, stymied.

"You like to be *handled*," she continued, still just looking at me.  I 
stared.  What had Mom said?  What did Mrs. Phillips know about Dad?  "Take off 
your clothes," she finally said.

I looked at Mom.  She just looked back at me.  As did Mrs. Phillips.  "Do it," 
she continued.

I did it.  I slipped the robe off, then my pajama shirt, then my pajama pants. 
 
I stood there, in front of them, naked.  Hard.  They just looked.

Mrs. Phillips stood up.  She started walking around me, looking me up and 
down.  When she got behind me, she was suddenly close.  Her hand was on my 
rear.  Then her finger was pushing in.  Her face was over my shoulder.

The finger in my rear.  I'd *never* imagined something like this would happen. 
 
I was so hard.  "Like that, huh?" she said, practically in my ear.  "Huh?"

"Answer her," said Mom.

"Yes," I said.

"Yes, *Ma'am*," said Mom.

"Yes Ma'am," I repeated.

"Your Mother is right," said Mrs. Phillips.  "You're just right for Kate."  
Mrs. Phillips is Kate's mother.  The finger moved.  Another worked its way in.

And do you know, Kate and I *did* start going out, and have stayed together 
for years?  In fact, the wedding is next month.

But since we both finished college, I've already been at Kate's apartment 
almost all our free time.  She keeps me naked, and has a little whip that she 
likes to use to play with my cock.  She'll lift it and push it around with 
that little whip.  When we're alone, she does it a lot.  And she demonstrates 
for her Mom when she comes over, and for her future mother-in-law too.  They 
all say I've gotten very good with my tongue.  Especially when they 
"encourage" me with that little whip.

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