("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Disrobing Mother by Dafney Dewitt (vray@uswest.net) 1997 *** A story about a manipulative son and his parents. (MF, voy, mc) *** "Unzip me." Mary stares into the crotch of her son's jeans. Her surprise at seeing Tommy standing in front of her is so complete, she is temporarily rendered mute. She is on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor like a dog... waiting for a bone. With trembling fingers, Mary Drummond fumbles with the zipper of son's pants. After pulling it down, she stops. "Take it out." "No, I can't." "Why not?" "It's wrong." Mary knows her position is ridiculous. Saying mother- son incest is wrong while on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor with one breast hanging out of her bra is strikes her as absurd. But she knows in her heart that it is wrong. She wants Tommy to stop pushing her. She wants him to stop tormenting her. With his pants unzipped, Tommy starts circling her, like a small dog, undecided about how to mount a bitch of a larger breed. "Is it wrong?" "Yes, it is." Mary says. "Then, let's do something right." "What?" "Phone Dad. Tell him you need him." "I can't. We're getting divorced." "Him or me, mother's choice." Teetering on the brink of incest, Mary takes much too long to decide. The pause before answering embarrasses her. It makes it appear as if she were considering sucking her own son's dick, and letting him fuck her like a dog on the kitchen floor. "I'll phone," Mary finally answers. While she phones, Tommy recites a poem from memory. When there's marriage, without love, there will be love, without marriage, So it is better to love, in spite of faults, then because of virtues. Charles Drummond hangs up the telephone shaking his head. His soon-to-be ex-wife, Mary, has just invited him over to talk about a reconciliation. None of this makes any sense, but his son, Tommy, had warned him to be expecting something unusual. Tommy told him that Mary had ridiculed him for being a wimp. After dinner, and too many glasses of wine, she confessed to Tommy that she needed a more assertive, less politically correct man, who took control. She wanted a controller, a boundary setter, a master of the moment. Charles is none of these things. Wearing banker's gray pinstriped suits with his styled prematurely gray hair, at 45 years, Charles looks and acts like a sophisticated Company Executive Officer incapable of anything except the most deferentially correct behavior. Before Charles Drummond arrives, Tommy tells his mother she will have to seduce her husband. He tells her he will make an exact measure of the success of her efforts, but she will be allowed complete privacy. Mary has no idea how Tommy expects to measure the seduction without being a witness. She discounts the idea of anyone making an exact measure of love as being impossibly naive, and unromantic. Charles arrives before she has time to ponder the possibilities. "I'm glad you could come." Mary greets her husband, Charles. "You look wonderful," answers Charles looking over his wife for the first time in two months. She is dressed in a yellow floral print spring dress with a low scoop neckline. Her red hair is brushed back and tied with a white ribbon. The dress is too short, falling just above the knees which gives her a little girl look that is accented with bright red coral lipstick and gold hoop earrings. Both her dress and demeanor are unlike anything Charles can remember. Has Mary changed? "Thank you," gushes Mary giving him a quick wet kiss directly on the lips. Remembering Tommy's comments, Charles Drummond decides this is the only opportunity he will have for testing Mary's confessed preference for forceful men. He starts forcefully, but unsure of himself. "Come with me," Charles boldly grabs his wife by the hand. He says the words slowly so she can savor the sexual implications. He leads her upstairs to their bedroom. He is surprised at the lack of protest from his wife. Maybe, just maybe, Tommy is right. Inside the bedroom, Mary tries to kiss him again, but Charles pushes her away. "On your knees!" Charles commands never expecting to be obeyed. Mary sinks to her knees. "Unzip me!" Mary unzips him. "Take it out!" Mary gently removes his flaccid penis, letting it hang out of his charcoal gray suit. Power pulses through Charles. It surges through his body like an electric current. His heart thumps as if he had just finished running a race. By God! He loves it! Just thinking about the control is making him hard. He grabs his rapidly growing penis and rubs it boldly across Mary's lips. Some of her coral red lipstick smears off onto the side of his dick. Just when Charles does not think it can get any better, it does. From her kneeling position, Mary lifts her green eyes upward and gives him an encouraging smile. Looking up at her husband's face, Mary smiles thinking how Tommy and not Charles is forcing her into sex. Mary imagines Tommy as a cupid of love, and her smile broadens. Emboldened by this smile, Charles starts talking dirty. "Suck me, you bitch!" Mary wraps her coral red lips around his fully hardened dick. She sucks him with an eager wetness Charles never enjoyed in their 18 years of marriage. Sucking on his cock like some whore, Mary is going to make him climax in no time. Realizing the problem, Charles pushes her down on the bed. "Spread your legs, you slut!" Mary eagerly spreads her legs. Charles thrusts his hand under her dress. She is not wearing any panties. He probes her with his fingers. She is wet. His fingers make a satisfying squishing sound as they plunge into her pussy. The feel of his hard bony fingers plunging into her cunt awakens Mary's lust. "Fuck me. Please fuck me," she begs him. "Beg for it, you slut!" "Please fuck me!" "You want my cock?" "Yes, I need your hard hot cock." "Take your tits out, you whore!" Mary scoops her breasts out of the top of her dress pushing them together with her hands. Charles bites the nipples on her breasts and slams his cock into her at the same time. He is brutal. Taking only what he wants. He wastes no time worrying about the pleasures or pains of his wife. Forcing her to bend her legs in the air, he thrust deeply inside her until the head of his dick hits her cervix. He pumps into her without mercy, expending much of the pent-up resentment from the pending divorce. He uses her. It is not an act of love, but neither is it rape. It is pure sex for the selfish pleasure of only one person, Charles Drummond. He fucks his wife mercilessly. He fucks her like a teenager. His climax is quick, but long and deep. He floods her cunt with his jism. Not bothering to kiss or hug his wife, Charles immediately withdraws after climaxing. He dresses quickly looking with satisfaction at the goo oozing from the lips of her pussy. Her knees still bent, Mary has made no effort to cover herself. "The divorce is off." Charles tells Mary. "I'll have the attorneys void the dissolution agreement this afternoon." Numbed by the assault, Mary parrots his words, "The divorce is off," she concedes without protest as Charles leaves the bedroom. She is exhausted. Her knees tremble. She did not climax, but the emotional tension of surrendering to her husband has left her drained. Like a cancellation stamp, her sexual submission has voided the divorce. Mary assembles the pieces in her mind. Tommy will measure the success of her seduction by the cancellation of the divorce. Without the divorce, he will retain his power to blackmail her. The illogical thought flickers briefly in Mary's mind that her son, Tommy, has fucked her by not fucking her. He has chosen incest by proxy. Tommy has fucked his mother through his father. Saving the marriage was Tommy's goal from the very beginning. Tommy was using sexual blackmail to play cupid with his parents. All the pieces fit, but Mary is still immobilized with doubt. She speculates about Tommy's motives instead of cleaning herself up. She can feel the cum oozing out of her cunt. Without knocking, Tommy enters the bedroom. Embarrassed by her position, Mary drops her knees hoping the short floral dress will cover the goo between her legs. He is carrying a tablespoon, tapping it softly against the palm of his hand. Tommy bends down over Mary's head. She can see her face reflected on the back of the silver spoon. It looks like he's going to kiss her in gratitude for cancelling the divorce, but his lips slide down the side of her face. With his lips so close, she can feel them against her ear, Tommy whispers, "From your lips to your lips." Mary closes her eyes. The whispering sounds poetic. The words tickle her ear. With her eyes closed, Tommy's words remind Mary of her wedding vows, "From your hand to my hand, with this ring I thee wed". She thinks her son is about to recite a poem until he inserts the cold metal spoon between her lips. Opening her eyes in horror, Mary knows how Tommy will make a precise measure of how well she seduced her husband. "Time for dessert," Tommy whispers. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 49