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[author’s note: Thanks to the real Connie whose story this, in broad outlines and in many phrases, and everyone else who added details and encouragement.]
*
“Well, Connie, here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” That had been my Dad’s favorite expression to me, growing up.
Sometimes, under stress, like now, I imagined that he was still here and I talked to him.
And my first response had always been an angry denial. “It is not a mess!”
I could just imagine Dad standing there. He was a master of just saying nothing, and I know he would just look at me. In this instance, tied up naked on the kitchen table and my son Brian somewhere on the road home from college.
“Uh huh,” he would say finally say after a bit. “Not a mess…”
“Well, maybe, but it’s not my fault!” That had always gone over well too.
“Uh huh. Whose it is then?”
“It’s Rick’s.”
My father would stare at me, I just know.
“So he put a gun to your head, did he?”
“Well he was the one who tied me up and he was the one who suggested it all in the start, and he was the one who told be what to do around Brian, and he….”
“Did you EVER tell him ‘no’ Connie?”
“No, but a girl can’t say no when there a 100 Brendas out there…
OK, so taking responsibility has never been one of my strong suits.
“Wait, it is Brenda, she’s the one, the bitch. She’s the one, that barely 20-something bimbo with the perfect tits who apparently just giggled and pouted, and took away my husband AND our business and sent me into the downward spiral that lead to this. After I had gotten us through 2008 and years of him treating the house like a piggy bank. No, Brenda had entered and wiggled and giggled and suddenly Fred had a Soul Mate and One Last Chance at Happiness and Out the Door See Ya, Connie. And then for ME, if the utility bill was $10 more, it was a cause for a deep seated panic attack that had me yelling at Brian for not turning off the computer, and me really hoping the “check engine light” really meant, “here’s another pretty little graphic that doesn’t really mean anything.”
Fred. The fuck. Buy a corvette, asshole, and keep it zipped.
And if you want to party like you were 20 again party with me, not a 20 year-old.
It’s just sad when you are like the oldest one in the room, Fred.
You know, tied up on the kitchen table, one really has the time to see how dirty the ceiling is. Rick had really tied me up good. I should be grateful, in a sense, that he had tied me up lying in my back. At 50, tied standing up would probably show more of my things sagging. 5’3” 125 36DD blonde and blonde and trimmed looks better flat spread eagle on the kitchen table. It helped smooth out some ridges, creases and folds that might otherwise be, um, more visible.
Trust me on this.
Rick, oh yeah, My Knight in Shining Armor who had seen me in that crappy little dump place someone with a intense sense of irony labeled a “Lounge” a couple of years after Fred, the day AFTER her 47th birthday had told me of his One Last Chance of Lasting Happiness AKA Big Tit Baby Brenda. Fuck, if I had known then what was gonna happen in the next 24 hours, I would have ordered TWO desserts AND the fucking lobster.
“I just want to take this one last chance at happiness. You can understand that, can’t you, Connie-honey?” In his whiney, pathetic oh woe-is-me voice.
I would have taken the lobster fork and shoved it though his smug, smarmy, pitying puffy face.
“Understand that, asshole.”
But Rick found me and at first it was all A Dream Come True. He was charming. etlik escort Cute. Listened. Had a job. Hell, he had a business. Didn’t live with his mother. Never lived in a basement. Called back even after a night when I was less than spectacular with the sex. Hell, he called back. Period. Therefore, at my age, a keeper.
It didn’t hurt that Rick is 5’10,” 210, moustache and side burns. And did I mention an 8-inch cock? The first time I saw it, just a few hours after I met the body around the cock, I thought, literally, OMG it looks so big and soft and heavy just hanging there.
And then it grew.
I was and remain a slave to that man’s cock.
I know you want details, so here ya’ go: It’s large, I think I mentioned that already, very thick, very veiny with a large mushroom head on it. He likes to lay it across my face with his balls against my chin and when he does so the head of his cock is over my forehead. Yeah, his cock is longer than my face. Oh, when he smacks my face with his cock, it feels like he has hit me with his forearm, or an elephant’s truck.
He was also a BIG upgrade from Fred.
Screw you, Brenda. BIG screw you.
And yes, a large cock will make a woman do some crazy things.
Well, for this woman it does.
At any rate, Rick soon moved in and we had sex all the time. Sex, flowers, huge cock and new appliances.
Good times.
The conversation we had when we had sex to celebrate the new washer/dryer was the point where I could have most plausibly said no; should have said no; but no, I didn’t say no.
The conversation had apparently started without me, as my mind already was drifting to the possibility of changing my brand of dryer sheets.
“What was that honey?” I asked.
“I said, maybe he should begin to learn more about sex.”
“He who?”
“Brian.”
“What?”
“At home.”
I was so caught by surprise; I really didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I don’t think he really needs to have that talk…I’m sure he knows…
“There is talk, and then there is experience, Connie….”
“I know but that’s what school is for.”
“No, that is what family is for,” he laughed.
“Oh, my God, what?” I quite frankly didn’t see the humor. As it turned out, it was not ha-ha-funny kind of humor, so, you know, points for me for not getting it.
“You care for your son, Brian, and know lots more than anyone else does, right Connie?”
“Of course I do. I’m his mother.”
“And so who better to guide him?”
“What are you saying?”
“His sexuality is the most important part of him that is still unformed. We’ve talked about that…”
“We’ve talked about how he is 18 and still way more comfortable around his damn box rather than girls, but…”
“So in the short run, I want you to wear more revealing clothes around the house,” Rick bored on over my objection. “Tank tops and low cut blouses, yoga pants and short skirts.”
“Why, honey?”
“So when he sees you, he feels arousal.”
“Oh my god, what?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I can’t do that.” I buried my head in my pillow. (Also new, by the way.)
“Connie, it’s OK baby.”
“Please, don’t make me do this please.”
“Connie, you will obey me on this. It’s for his own good. And yours.”
“No, there has to be another way,” I was practically crying. “Please, I’m begging you. He’s my son.”
“Well if you can think of another way to arouse your son, I will consider it, but we need to reach him.”
“A mother can’t do that to her own son.”
“But it’s important for etlik escort bayan a son to know that his mother loves him, and his sexuality, and that she is willing to do anything for him.”
“Oh my god, no”
“Yes. He must learn how to learn to love his mother as the ideal woman.”
“No, please. Why are you doing this?”
“So he will never leave a woman like his father left you.”
That made me cry in my pillow, with his hand slowly caressing my back. My body, damn it, began to respond to his touch.
“My God, what are you talking about?” “I am talking about you taking his virginity, after teasing and flirting and you displaying your sexuality to him.”
“What’s wrong with you?” But as he keep talking, and touching I began to feel something other than outrage and disgust beginning to build inside me. God help me, I was aroused.
And Rick knew it.
“I am your lover,” he said as he rolled on top of me and pinned my wrists over my head, kissing me. “I am your lover, and I am Brian.”
My body betrayed me with its response, moaning and moving under him.
It’s a small price to pay to keep me, Connie. Just imagine this is Brian’s cock.” He softly thrust his rock-hard cock in my hand.
A band inside me broke. My will bending as I begin my spiral down a dark taboo path as I simply moaned and began to stoke his cock. “Brian’s” cock.
“See Connie, its not so bad is it?”
“Rick, I’m his mother this is wrong. It’s so wrong, wrong wrong.”
I was gripping Rick’s cock, but in my mind I was going forbidden places, stepping into taboo places, imagining that it was Brian’s cock. I began to press up against, Brian.
“Imagine Brian’s cock inside you. Its simply another cock.” Rick began to slightly alter his voice to me more like Brian’s. He also slipped his cock inside me. There was almost no resistance. Almost casually, he was fully inside me.
“Oh god, please I can’t. My god, not Brian, no.”
It felt so good. God help me, it felt so good. Thinking it was my son’s cock opened my mind to pleasure I had never experienced before.
“Oh Brian,” I whispered. “No,” moaning. The cock began fucking me in long slow strokes.
“See, it’s a good thing Connie. Fuck Brian’s, cock, honey. Fuck Brian’s cock.”
I turned my head, “No please. It’s so wrong. My god, please help me.”
“Yes, Connie, be a good girl. Fuck.”
Oh god, I was reaching out and grabbing the ass attached to the cock, and pulling it tight. And fucking. Despite what I was saying.
“Be a good girl Connie. Fuck Brain’s cock. That’s it.”
I was protesting some, but fucking harder.
“Shhh shhhhh. Fuck your son’s cock,” his voice was getting louder.
All of the shame and guilt running in my mind was trying to shut my body off, but the desire of my body to fuck was stronger.
“Say out loud how much you love fucking Brian’s cock,” Rick was whispering and kissing my ear.
“Please,” I whispered. I wasn’t quite sure I even knew what I was asking for.
“Please what, mommy.”
“Oh my god. I love your cock, Brian,” softly saying it, pushing hard up against Rick.
“Good girl. Say it again, Connie.”
Oh god …I love your cock, Brian…. FUCK YES!” I screamed my son’s name as I came over and over. The lust swamping the guilt.
Rick was smiling as he was looking down at me. “See, that wasn’t hard, was it?”
He slid out of me.
Coming down, I whispered, “It’s so wrong.”
“Now Connie, for being such a good girl, I have a special surprise you…. mommy.”
Hearing him calling me mommy, made escort etlik me feel weird, apprehensive, and more than a little twitchy. Not daring to say anything I could only watch as he reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer. He pulled out a dirty pair of Brian’s briefs.
“Oh my god, no, Rick, please no.”
He showed them to me, used. There was a huge yellow stain in the crotch.
“Here, Connie, this is for you.”
He brought bring the briefs to my nose. Still on top of me, I felt helpless to get away.
All I could do was say, “No, Rick, please don’t do this.”
“This is his scent, Connie, Brian’s scent. Your son. His scent.”
God help me, I took a deep breath as he lightly ran the stained underwear under my nose. All I could do is groan as my hips began to move, betraying me, again.
“Good girl, mommy.”
“What’s wrong with me,” I said to myself, my body responding.
“Breath Brian’s scent.”
Really, what choice did I have other than to comply and smell? My mind racing as he ran the fabric under my nose. And over my lips. I knew that it was wrong for a mother to do this, but I was Rick’s, he had bright me back from poverty and given me my life back, and while I might still have tits I was pushing fifty…one. It’s just between us and no one will ever know, and so this really wasn’t so bad, was it? My rationalization was interrupted by brush of physical reality.
“Oh god,” I remember thinking. “This cotton is REALLY stiff”
“He’s quite a son, Brian, isn’t he Connie, all of this cum in one load? How often do you think he cums a day?”
I felt the crunchy material rubbing me. Brian’s underwear. My own son’s cum.
And Rick whispering once more in my ear, “Lick it, Connie. Lick it.”
Again, my body betrayed me as I slowly stuck out my tongue while Rick lightly pressed the stiff cotton against my lips.
“That’s it.”
For one brief moment I hoped that this cum was Rick’s that I was licking. That he had shot a load into Brian’s underwear and this was just some kind of joke.
“Good girl.”
Then I tasted it.
“Good girl.” It wasn’t Rick’s cum or a joke. God help me, I actually started to suck on Brian’s shorts, tasting Brian’s cum.
“How does Brian taste, Connie?”
I moaned, my hand drifting to my pussy, parting my wet lips.
“How does the cum of your son, taste, Connie?”
“Good.” I mumbled, rubbing and sucking.
“Different from mine, yes?”
“Yes.” I whispered. I plunged my fingers deep inside me, not caring how it looked, my fire building. I was eating Brian’s cum. And it was exciting to me. Rick was rubbing the soggy fabric against my lips, pushing it into my mouth.
“You like young men’s cum, don’t you Connie?”
Unwilling to let the fabric out of my mouth even for a moment, I nodded, nursing on the underwear, rubbing myself.
“There is so much of it,” Rick murmured, feeding to me
I begin to lose it, surrendering.
“Living just down the hall from you. So much beautiful cum. Brian’s cum. Mommy’s mouth.”
“Oh please, yes,” So many fingers in my pussy. Inhibitions falling aside as fast as my passion is rising.
“Brian’s cock. Mommy’s mouth.”
“Please, yes. Yes.”
“Brian’s cum.”
“My mouth.” Spasms began to ripple through me. My tongue was bathing the fabric with my spit and I was swallowing each taste as it came into my mouth.
“Good girl. Connie. Take Brian’s cock. Taste Brian’s cum.”
“Oh God yes. My Brian.” I screamed into the fabric as spasm after spasm ripped through my body, my juices running down my fingers.
In retrospect, I think it’s safe to say that was a turning point in our relationship.
Rick and me.
Indirectly, the two of us and Brian.
Me and the new washer/dryer weren’t bad either.
And dryer sheets? I stayed with Bounce. I just liked the smell.
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