Sub M.O.M.S (Ingrid)
by DiscipleN
Chapter 3
My mother visited for Andrew’s fifteenth birthday. She had visited a couple times since my aborted trip, but this was for her grandson. Her medical treatments ended a year prior. Her hair had regrown to shoulder length. Instead of cookies she brought advice. “You’re a man now, Andrew. Your mother and father have raised a fine son. I’m proud of you. They’re proud of you.” She held out her hand. I heard metal tinkle. “It’s not new, but it’s not a junker. I wanted to give you one you have to work for. It’ll need a lot of care and money, until you can afford to buy your own. If I hear that you’ve weaseled your parents into fixing it, I’ll take it back.”
“Mom!” I gasp, “You can’t give him a car. He can’t even drive for another year!”
“Wendy, that’s too much!” Garrick supported me.
“Hush.” My mother snapped. She smirked at her grandson. “I put the car in your name, Andrew, but I’m giving the key to your mother.” Her arm swung. A ring of matching keys dropped in my lap. “Andrew, this isn’t a gift as much as it is a test. If you can be responsible for a wonky car, you can be responsible for anything that motivates you.”
Andrew’s glee evaporated. “I knew it was too good.”
Mother hugged him. She looked at me. “See that you don’t peek in the back seat when you take him and a girl to a movie.” Mom paused. She looked back at her grandson. “Did I assume wrong?” She grinned at him. “I’m good with whatever dating preference you have. Your parents never tell me anything.”
Andrew blushed. He whispered. “Yeah, I um, like girls.”
Where my mother had found a classic, Audi Quattro, for a price she could afford was less baffling than one might think. She had a network of auto professionals she played like a full stage of puppets. We found out how true her warning was about the maintenance it required, but it was a beautiful thing in motion and at rest.
We all hopped in for a ride in the hills. Mother paid for the tow back home. Her auto club was more like a clobbering club, given the price the tow-person’s boss told him to charge. My emergency service plan wouldn’t have provided a trip around a slight curve, for that price.
Crestfallen, in the short term, Andrew perked up back home, when Mother showed him the tool chest she’d stuck in the trunk. He spent several days figuring out what was wrong, ordering parts, and correcting the problem. After failing twice, he told me he hated his car. Grandma was long gone. I told him I could get the right manual through inter-library loan, but that’s where my auto expertise ended. He tried again and the car returned to disagreeable but sexy form.
“Mom, you can’t use my car.” He said after we’d road tested his repairs. “It’s too fragile. I don’t want it to break down when I’m not in it.”
I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. Work wasn’t very far away, but taking the bus was often inconvenient.
To pay for all the parts and fluids, Andrew found work at a parcel delivery service. He hauled cargo from conveyer to truck and from truck to conveyer. Garrick signed a waiver to let Andrew be hired as an adult.
Less than a month later, he walked into the house, having finished a day at school. He told his father and I, “I’ve got a date for Thursday night. Who wants to drive?”
A suspicion caught up with me as I was falling to sleep that night. Andrew knew his dad went to bed early on nights before he drove to work. I was the only one who could have chaperoned him and his date.
Melinda was unremarkable, a nice but dull sort. Like mothers throughout history have claimed, I honestly couldn’t guess what my son saw in her. They sat in back. I drove them to a diner. I remained in the car and read a book on my tablet. We next saw a movie, at the town’s only drive in, a city landmark resurrected. It only played kids movies and classic horror. We arrived mid first scream. I plunked the speaker box on the half recessed window. I left them to buy popcorn, which I ate at the refreshments booth, staring at and smiling at the terrible film. My phone buzzed. I’d turned off the ringer. It was Andrew. “Andy?”
“Sorry, Mom. I made a mess of things-”
“I’ll be right there.” I hurried back to the car. Melinda was gone.
“She called for a Lyft, Mom.”
“What did you do?” The girl was too boring to have caused any trouble.
Andrew worried me by popping a grin. “Oh, a bit too much it seems.” He waggled his eyebrows. The edge of a shadow made the erection behind his pants look bigger.
“We’ll talk when we get home.” I took the keys out of my handbag and slid into the driver’s seat, returning the speaker to its stand before starting the car. Andrew got out and into the seat beside me. To be clear, I told him, “I’m sure your dad will have something to say when you tell him the details.”
Andrew reached over and turned off the engine. The car was still in park, allowing him to pull out my keys. He sighed with accomplishment. “It’s time for you to abandon your responsibility, Mom.”
“Andrew, what are you talking about? Give me those keys.”
My son spoke evenly. “I didn’t know what you really meant at first. For a year, I replayed what you’d said in my head. Then Grandma brought this present. What she told me then, that I could be responsible for whatever motivated me, solved your riddle.” He tucked the keys into a creche in the shotgun door. His other hand grabbed mine from the wheel. “Mom, I need to use you.”
I huffed nervously, suddenly remembering what I had posed, two years ago to save my marriage. It had been a good, two years. Had they been enough? “You’re out of your teenage mind, Andrew!” I scolded him with indignation.”
“Look, Mom, I’m not kidding around. You used to jack me off whenever I could get you alone. You even seemed to like it, however much you protested.” Andrew moved my hand towards his bulging crotch panel. He stopped and let go. “It’s not your fault, Mom. I made you do it. You’ll never be responsible for what I make you do.” My son promised with cement conviction.
“Th-this is ridiculous, Andy. Give me those keys.”
“Give me your hand mother.” He countered. “I’m going to use it.”
“I’ll get out of the car. I’ll walk home if necessary.” I tried.
“No, Mom. You’ll stay right here. It’s warm and safe. Now roll up the window.
My hand reacted before I could think. A whirr lifted the glass barrier. Why couldn’t the damn car break down for my sake? Soon, our hot breath would steam the windows like half of the cars around us.
“Take your hand and unzip me.” He spoke unwavering.
“Please, Andrew, I’m sure you’ll find a girl to experiment with. I remember how guys found willing girls at my high school. You’re good looking and popular.” His pals remarked about girls who wanted my son. I lent them but half an ear, as a proper mother should.
“You don’t get it, Mom.” His head shook slightly. “I brought Melinda here to dump her. I’ve only wanted you since I first rubbed out an orgasm against you. Now get your hand busy here, Mom.”
I fell back from his insistance, but my arms obeyed. Looking away from their betrayal, I popped the top button and unzipped my son’s jeans. An eye curled back. My boy’s nice, hard cock spilled out with more than a little hair. He wasn’t wearing underpants. The truth sank in. I had been his target from the moment he asked his father and I to drive him.
“Ahh, that’s much better.” He closed his eyes and opened them.
“It’s terrible, what you’re doing! Don’t you realize that?” I pleaded.
“No, Mom, it’s just Nature. She wants strong men to win mates. I love Dad, but he doesn’t really get how incredible you are. You’re life is half wasted. You need me as much as I need you.”
“I’ll never betray your father.” I managed to bring my hands back to me.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m betraying him. You don’t have a choice.” He snapped. “Put your hand around my dick and make me cum!”
I willed my hand to stay, but it obeyed my son. It reached out and grasp the firm, blood filled flesh of my flesh and blood. The shadow I thought had magnified his size had not lied. My son was very much a man. Heat radiated through my engulfing fingers. I clenched it, hand quivering.
“That’s feels really great, Mom. Now pull on it. I bet you remember how fast I like it.
I hoped the darkness hid my red face. He liked to start slow.
“Andrew, don’t you care about me?” My hand moved on its own. He closed his eyes and sighed happily when I finally succumbed to his wicked ambition. “Sure I do, Mom. See it from my point of view. You never really fight about it. You complain and fuss but your hand won’t stop. Ghhh, ummm. I love how you milk it.
“Sure, those old pornos were crap stories, all wrong about women, but they got one thing right about us.” He reached fingers into my hair and turned my face to him. “I can use you.”
I winced at the phrase. It wasn’t true! My mind revolted! My hand paused, but he gave it a push with his, and I resumed jacking off my son. “This is so degrading. I hate you.”
He kissed me, right on the lips. “I know better. Mmmm. You’re so good. You must practice on Dad, a lot.”
I’m not sure I could have blushed harder. His father liked me to get him hard with my hand, when he wasn’t already. I’d been fluffing my husband more frequently in the last few months. His work had become more demanding after landing a lead position at his company. He never complained at my daily attempt to ball. In fact he started keeping track of how many days we could go before he had to beg off. “This is what you’re good for, Ingrid.” I heard the voice in my head more clearly than ever. “You don’t deserve your husband’s love.”
“It’s okay, Mom. You can cry.” Andrew kissed my tears. “Just. Don’t. Stop.” He hummed from stimulation increasing in his manipulated prick.
I didn’t. My hand slowly sped up.
“That’s right. Oohh, perfect.” My son encouraged.
“Please don’t make me make you cum, Son.” I begged. “I can’t bear to think, what you make me do.”
“Accept it, Mom.” He kissed my trembling lips. His tongue sought to penetrate. I put up a barrier of teeth. I had to resist where I could, but that only made my hand jerk my child’s bulging cock, faster. “Aaaahhh, you are going make me cum, Mom.” He pulled his lips free from my oral defense.
A part of me, deep inside wanted my son to cum hard. “If you’re only good for pulling on your boy’s dick, you might as well do it as well as you can.” The wicked voice returned.
The sixty foot movie screen presented the monster raging through a swarm of innocent people. The hero was down for the count. I pulled on my son’s big dick, in his small Audi, while the monster outside roared and slashed. Andrew grunted and groaned as I built up tension in his churning balls. “Ohhh, that’s good. You do remember. You enjoyed doing it even, didn’t you mom?” His voice didn’t command, but I answered.”
“I-I don’t like you making me do this.”
“Heh,” my son grinned at me, “That’s not what I asked.” He kissed me. “I know the answer. The day you admit it, will be the day you become mine. Every stroke brings you closer to me, Mom.”
I looked away, to hide the flush that overtook my face. Even in the dark car, I couldn’t risk that. My hand continued to speed up, jacking his hard cock, trying to make it cum stronger than he ever cum before.
“OHHH! Momma, it’s gooood!” He closed his eyes. The feeling from his mother pulled dick turned his mind inward, to feel every spark of pleasure. His zipper grated against my dancing hand. It rasping didn’t slow my self-propelled tool. If it cut me, my hand would continue. I whacked his prick harder and harder.
I held my breath, but my mind seethed. Cum, damn you! Squirt your boy juice over my fucking hand. Coat your momma’s fuck arm with hot spunk.
“I-I’m gonna-” He cried out, “Yaaahhh! Cumming, Mom!” His dick leaped in my hand. Its piss hole opened and flung thick, white goo up in the air. It fell on my hand and arm and his pants. I turned to watch in horror, but I didn’t stop.
“Andrew!” I exclaimed, breathless. His dick spit three more shots that soiled his clothes and his mother. In his youth, it simply spilled out white cum like a bubbling spring. I must have pumped a pint of semen out of him before my arm relaxed. I rested it on his damp thigh.
“Oooh, I waited so long, Momma.” He sighed. His eyes sparkled in the darkness. He rested then. I didn’t move a muscle. I felt so ashamed. After two good years, my son had broken my will to be faithful to my husband in all ways.
He stirred slightly. “I bet it tastes better than Dad’s.” He grinned a mouth of glistening pearls.
“You’re the worst.” I finally pulled my spunk soaked hand away from my son’s spent wand. I wiped it on my sweater until I could take it off without soiling my other clothes. I handed my stained sweater to him.
Andrew cleaned what he could from his wet dick and soaked jeans. Then he plucked the car keys from his door pocket and offered them to me with an unsoiled hand. “Next time, you should lick it up, Mom.”
My heart thumped from fear. I turned away after snatching the keys from his strong hand. While I dove away from the theater’s horrors, he reached for his smartphone. “I’ll text to make sure Melinda got home safe.”
His father popped the question upon our arrival. “How was your first car date, Son?”
“I spilled my drink, and Mom didn’t get any of it.”
“Melinda bailed on him.” I covered for my son’s wickedness. I should have made Garrick ground him. Instead I scurried to the utility room and stuffed my cum stained sweater in the hamper. When I no longer could smell it, the voice in the back of my head chided, “You should have tasted it. Your son’s cum is all you deserve to eat.”
I didn’t make love to my husband that night, although my loins wanted passionate release. I slept uneasily.
Garrick woke first. He rose quickly to ready himself for another Friday. While my husband showered, I sneaked out of bed and dug through a box of things I’d dumped in the closet two years ago. The batteries were dead, but I gave myself a good orgasm, reliving the previous night’s corruption. Out of guilt, when my husband stepped in from the master bath, I asked, “Would you like a blow job before you go?”
He smiled. “That would be great! But ham and eggs would be more practical.” Garrick began dressing.
I crawled out of bed, smelling like satisfied pussy. I threw on a robe and darted to the kitchen. I cooked while he waited. Often, he cooked, but I needed to feel useful to my husband after betraying him. I sent him to work with a warm kiss and hug, then I rushed back to my bedroom and showered.
Andrew waited for me on my bed, naked. “I’m not waiting weeks again, Mom.” His resurgent cock stood expectantly.
I grabbed my robe and donned it. Fortunately, I had exited the bath with a large towel wrapped around my modest bits. “I’m not discussing this, Andrew. Go to your room and put on your clothes.”
“No.” He reached out and grabbed my shoulder closest to him. “You’ll do what I want, or I’ll make you late for work.”
My work didn’t start for another two hours. I didn’t believe him. I shook my arm free and turned my attention to the closet. I needed to decide what to wear, but all I could see was my son’s hard, waiting prick.
He moved quick, as if he had practiced. I felt something rough slip around my neck. “Huh?” I turned, but he managed to snap the lock before I could twist out of its circle.
“There. It’ll take you a while before you can get out of that.” He stepped back as I glared at him. In the mirror of my dresser, I saw that he had placed a thick, purple collar around my throat, fastened on with a tiny, U-lock. I fumbled with it but that only proved my first impression. It was designed to stay on its victim.
“I’ll take it off, after I use you, Mom.” He admired his work. His dick looked harder after collaring his mother. I tore my gaze from my son’s erection. I hugged my robe and headed to the kitchen.
“A knife won’t cut it, Mom. It’s woven with titanium threads.”
I stopped in the living room and put my hands to my face. “You bastard!” I yelled through my fingers.
“I’m tired of your tricks. So I came up with my own.”
I clamped my palms tight upon my face. I could neither see nor smell nor speak evil. I would wait him out. Maybe his dick would go soft if I didn’t play his game.
After minute, he grabbed my arm again, but I held firm. “Unlock this damn thing.” I told him. My hands muted my voice. He let go and backed off, possibly to consider his options.
I stood for a while, listening. I only heard his deep breaths. He stepped close again. I felt something hard on my left, polyester protected asscheek. “Don’t move, Mom.” I felt him press and draw his peter up my hind cheek. Then he lowered and eased the pressure. He tested me.
I wanted run back to my room and lock the door, but I just stood there, hiding in my hands. His cock snuggled against my behind. He tested its length up his mother’s ass crack.
“Stop it, Andrew!”
“No, Mom. This might be more fun than your hand.” His prick slid up and down my back groove. The slippery material of my robe must have felt good. He grunted. “I did like rubbing your leg, long ago. This is better.”
“You can’t get off on me like that!” I complained.
“Make me a better offer.” When I didn’t reply, Andrew sped up humping my ass cheeks.
I tried to step away. Why wouldn’t my legs move? I hated how he could immobilize me, except for those parts he wanted me to move. Deep thoughts surfaced again. “Andrew knows you’re a cunt. Your husband only loves you. You’re lucky Garrick’s love blinds him. Your son won’t divorce you. He’ll bring his dick to your cunt, time and again, and you’ll never escape.” I fought the voice. I told myself that I was a good woman, a devoted wife, a caring mother, and a damn fine librarian! Each point I made was answered only by my son’s furtive cock rubbing through the folds of my house robe.
“You sure are quiet, Mom.” The sound of my son’s voice carried his smile to my ears. They burned upon hearing it.
“I’m furious, Andrew. You can’t do this without consequences!” I threatened.
He pressed harder while rubbing his prick on my behind. “Oh, I fully expect consequences, like you learning what that collar means.”
“It’s part of a stupid game your playing. Grow up, Andrew. Be man and find your own woman.”
“Oh, I expect to, when I’m ready for one.”
The voice in my head interrupted my retort. “You’re his play cunt, Ingrid. He’ll use you and discard you, when a real woman finds him. In this regard, you’re almost useful.”
“Mmmmm.” My son groaned.
“No, Andrew. Please! Let me go.”
“How can I stop you? Hell, I’m actually pushing you away. Why are you pushing back?”
Oh my god. I was pushing back! My ass didn’t grind against my son, but it pressed solidly on his rutting prick. My face burned as hot as my ears at the revelation. “Be a good cunt, and make your son cum hard.” I heard in my skull.
“I-I-I-” I stuttered.
“If you want to cum to, Mom, I’ll just…” He reached down and drew up the hem of my robe.
“NO!” I cried. My hand struck his, surprising both of us. He let go but grabbed the collar.
Shaking it, he swore. “You’ll learn what this means, eventually, Mom.” Whatever that was, thinking of it galvanized his fuck motions into high gear. “Agh! I’m gonna cum.”
The friction between my cheeks burned. He slid through them like a maniac. He didn’t stop when I felt hot splashes soak into the material and stain my soul.
“Sooo gooood!” He swore. Slowing his pace, he tugged the collar and pulled me until his lips pressed into my elbow length hair. “Mmmm, you even smell sexy.” He cooed. He swept my blond tresses aside and kissed me just above my collar.
His softening dick pressed and rubbed against my behind until it ground to a halt. “We’re gonna need lube, next time. That wore my dick to the bone.” He laughed.
I swore to him, angrily. “There won’t be a next time!”
I arrived late to work, by three minutes. I wrote myself a harsh note, and threatened to send it to the main branch. Fortunately, Claire arrived later, five minutes after I had crumpled and trashed the note.
“It’s strange, Ingrid.” She mused, “Now that Mr. Vertus is gone, the library seems quieter but less solemn.” She referred to how he once exuded domineering silence.
“I know. Even when a room was still and quiet, his presence amplified the silence.”
The first patron entered, and we sprang to work. The day kept us busier than usual, fetching requests, emailing for inter-library loans, reading children stories, slapping one hand that became overly familiar. The rude boy stuck out his tongue and ran into the mens room.
“Ingrid, I know you’re pretty, but that’s the fifth time I’ve seen a boy do that to you since I started working here. What kind of perfume do you wear?”
“My son’s cum.” I was tempted to answer. NO! I screamed inside my head. “I don’t. You mean, an older child has never got fresh with you?”
“The idea is ridiculous!” When she snorted, I remembered. She was a person without interest in sex.
“It’s not like I’m inviting it.” I snapped.
“I know.” She reassured, possibly out of genuine concern. “It’s just so icky and strange.”
“It’s worse for me.” I tried to curb my tongue. Latent anger simmered when I returned home. “Oh, hi, Honey.” I greeted my huband. Tomorrow, Garrick would work at home. We kissed chastely.
“Hi, Dad.” Andrew glided into the living room.
“I’d ask you how school went, but that’s a stupid question.” Garrick held up a game controller. They battled while I made supper.
“Who won?” I asked after calling them to the table.
“We did!” They declared. It must have been one of those co-op games. I’d considered setting up a small room for those kinds of games, at the library. It was a tough call. Technology was leaving traditional libraries in the dust. The city torn one down, two years ago, and in a middle-class neighborhood. The reason, poor attendance. Their kids could afford video games. The adults worked too hard to read. When a library loans out more audio books and dvds than paper, doom is at hand. Whether a game room would draw more to the library or distract them from using it the way the gods intended, perplexed me to indecision.
“You look mad, Mom.”
“I have every right to be!” I snapped before realizing where I was.
“Whoa, Honey, we were just telling you how we beat that sucker!”
I shook my head and cast down my eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a trying day.”
That night, I slept in my husband’s arms. I dreamed the sensation of something slipping around my neck. In the morning I felt for the collar but touched only bare warmth. I gave Garrick a blow job in the shower and made a wet exit with a mouthful of my husband’s cum.
“I love you,” he told me while dressing.
I sat quiet, wearing a towel. My hair dripped. It dried slowly and was still quite damp when Andrew invaded my room an hour after Garrick had suquestered himself in his office. My son carried the collar with confidence. I spit sperm into my hand and wiped it around my neck. “Your father owns this cunt, Andrew.” I glared.
His lip actually curled at the sight of thick globs encircling his prize.
“I’ll scream if you try to touch me.”
He stood naked, arms relaxed at his side. “This isn’t over.”
“Go.”
“I will.” He considered something, maybe me, maybe the painting on the wall behind me. Andrew stared for a while, but my hair was still damp when he left.
…to be continued.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/98f2ae/smoms_ingrid_ch3_fm_reluctant_noncon_slow_mast