Sub M.O.M.S (Ingrid) by DiscipleN
Chapter 4
I had a fabulous day at work. Books flew through the system, delighting patron and Claire alike. Afterwards, Garrick and I made love before our son returned from school, and cuddled that night. I enjoy my man’s embrace as much as I enjoy getting off with him. I rose early and made breakfast.
Andrew surprised me. He revealed the collar and aimed it at my throat. “Mom, you cut it – you pay for it.” The cut I’d made was sharp. It scratched my neck while he showed me how to buy a replacement online. The pictures on that website disgusted me, even though I knew, the BDSM they depicted was a sham, fantasies at best.
“You’re lucky I don’t make you replace it with a chastity belt.” He hissed.
I drew the line at paying for it with a credit card. I took online anonymity very seriously.
“No problem, Mom. I already set up an account with a porn friendly escrow site. Transfer the cost to my account there, and we’re good.”
“We’re never going to be ‘good’ if you keep harassing me.” I sent the money.
“It will only get better.” He promised and released the collar.
That day, Garrick worked at his company’s office. I suffered the cut collar while stroking my son to a long built up cum.
“I saved it up for you, Mom. I’m done masturbating. You should drink it. I bet you drink Dad’s.”
“That’s none of your business!” My inner thoughts told me. “Stupid cunt. The only thing you’re good for is drinking cum!”
Claire surprised me with a meltdown the following day. “I can’t believe how stupid I am.”
“Claire, you’re not. Don’t listen, if any part of you says that. You’re the best librarian since I was hired.” I smiled.
“It’s not that, Ingrid.” She sniffed.
“Do you want to talk in the office?” I took her there.
“I lost my virginity last night.” She broke down.
Oh, shit. “Crap, Sweetheart. Tell me.”
“He was nice, at first. I get lonely, like most people, maybe a bit less, but I started dating online. I told him I didn’t get into sex. We’ve been going out for a month. I-I felt sorry for him. We’d been having wonderful weekends, getting out, dancing, walking in the woods, kissing. I do like kissing, you know. Last night, I thought I should try. I asked him to be gentle.”
“Did he hurt you?” I was ready to call the police.
“He was awful!” She burst into tears. “He simply fucked me and bolted. He swore at me, just before slamming my apartment door. He said I was a cold bitch, and now that he’d had me, nobody would ever have me again!”
I held Claire and added my tears.
The next morning, I threw pillows at Andrew when he invaded my bedroom. “Get the fuck, out!” He withdrew. That didn’t stop him from collaring me later and rubbing himself to orgasm before his father returned from work.
“Doesn’t it feel better when I use lots of coconut oil on my dick?” His oiled prick had felt cold at first but friction warmed it to match the heat of his cum. I had to wash my robe twice to get out the stains.
My new collar arrived the next day. It looked exactly like the one I’d attempted to sever. It was a lucky day. I managed to unpackage it and hide it while Andrew was at school.
“Hey, Dad, did we get a delivery today?” My son studied me. He hadn’t asked me when he return from school. He’d told me, “The collar was suppose to arrive today.” I shrugged.
“Ingrid?” Garrick passed short.
I shrugged.
He whispered after dinner. “Two can play at this game.” He dedicated himself to finding the replacement collar.
The next morning, I found the old one on my nightstand. I tucked it under my pillow before Garrick awoke. While he showered, Andrew walked into his parents’ bedroom, naked. “Did he see it, Mom?”
“You won’t gain anything if he finds it.” I warned.
He held out his hand. I retrieved it, passed it to him and walked into the bath. He didn’t follow.
He left it between the toaster oven and the bread box. Garrick didn’t eat toast. I draped a oven mitt over it, until he left for work. Andrew fetched it and collared me. “I want the new one, Mom. The delivery service says it was delivered at 2:14pm, yesterday.”
I always felt stupid wearing my son’s fetish item. It didn’t arouse me one bit. Why it affected me the way it did, simply pissed me off. I stood stupid, but defiant. I had dressed in my work clothes before making breakfast.
He searched every inch of my room. Then he made me jerk him off. I donned my apron for the deed. I think he got off faster seeing me in an apron. I only wore it when baking.
At work, I hugged Claire. “You should come over.” She’d had dinner with us every blue moon or so. She said she was free Tuesday after the weekend. Our work schedules never overlapped on the weekends. We each had a full day to ourselves. Sunday was my day, to flaunt against the county’s other libraries that could barely open five days a week. What priestess would close her temple on a holy day? (except when I’m on holiday)
“I’m going to school early, Dad.” Our son announced Tuesday morning. “To use the field track and measure the distance.”
“Good thinking, and shower before class. I never let your mother smell my stink.” He waved his son goodbye.
Garrick finished his breakfast, pushed back in his chair and patted his lap. I sat and we kissed. Mmmm!
“I’m glad we have the morning to ourselves, I didn’t want to embarrass Andy. He reached down to a bag on the floor next to his chair. Horror gripped me. I had hid that bag.
You must know, like most boys, our son is interested in porn. My husband’s hand hovered over the bag.
“Um,” I gulped. “I know.” I interrupted myself.
“We’ll, let’s just say I’ve been monitoring his stash. You’d think a kid these days would keep his porn encrypted on a hard drive, but our son apparently likes physical copies. He keeps a few old books and magazines, tucked between his mattress and the box spring.”
I would have spanked my husband’s shoulder and laughed, if I hadn’t been desperately trying not to look at the bag.
I swallowed bravely. “What’s in the bag?” …knowing full well. After Andrew swore he’d given up masturbating, I decided the only place he wouldn’t look for the new collar was with his languishing porn.
He lifted it and plopped it on my lap. “Look.”
I opened the bag and dropped my jaw theatrically.
“Looks new, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose.” I touched the evil circlet.
“Honey,” His voice summoned my attention. “SHOULD we do something?”
“At the very least,” I glared, “You should stop ‘monitoring’ your son’s porn.”
“Heh. Caught me.” He looked sheepish. I didn’t care if my husband masturbated. After our son started abusing me, I couldn’t give a damn if Garrick ‘monitored’ his porn.
“Do you want to talk with himmm,” I drew out the last consonate. “…Or should I?”
“How about both of us show him we’re united in our verdict.”
“And what is our verdict?”
“He’s too young to be messing around with dogs.”
I managed to keep riotous laughter in my belly. “We’ll tell him tomorrow. I’m bringing Claire to supper after work.”
“What’s her problem this time?”
“Garrick!” I brushed the sack from my lap and stood. “That’s mean.”
“You only invite her over when she’s having man problems.”
“Not true. We had a lovely Thanksgiving with her, last year. She wasn’t dating then.”
He left, mostly handled. I picked up the bag and hid it at the base of our bed. Andrew had already searched our room. I left for work, soon thereafter. The work was steady and straightforward. The patrons were only mildly annoying. I actually love people for visiting libraries, but you know, humans… Claire and I accomplished minor miracles, the likes of which kept patrons coming back. She accompanied me home after closing. Tuesdays were short days. Budget cuts.
We waited for the bus. “You’ll find someone, when you’re ready again.”
“Maybe I should just fuck everyone. That way I won’t have to worry about idiots who think women are only worth fucking.”
There was nothing to say to that. I resisted shaking my head. “I bought steaks, yesterday.”
“That’s something I love talking about, food!” She smiled. The bus arrived. We nattered on the ride. We nattered walking to my home. We nattered inside, until Andrew called me.
“Hey, Mom. Come in here for a sec.” His voice sounded as if he didn’t care if I heeded or not. “Hi, Claire.” He added.
“Hi, Andrew.”
“I’ll be right back.” Covering my annoyance at my son’s beckoning, I told her. “Sit down and grab a book.” Claire gave me the finger. I headed to my son’s room. He caught me in the hall and dragged me to my bedroom. On the bed was the bag.
“I knew you’d move it to your room after I searched it.” He hissed victoriously.
“Andrew, we don’t have time.”
“Hush.” He lifted the collar. “I want to see if it fits.”
“It’s exactly the same!” I complained.
“Hush.” He looped it about my neck and locked it. I liked that it didn’t scratch. “Or do you want Claire to become part of a threesome?”
“Gee, Andy, what are you, thirteen? Claire’s half again your age.”
“Just kidding. She’s not really much to look at. She is nice, though. I hope she finds someone good for her.” He admired me, his occasional sex slave. “Maybe when she’s your age, I’ll reconsider.” He winked.
Claire walked in smiling, not fully aware at first. “I heard whispers.” She saw my collar.
– – – – –
“Woof.” I spoke the word. If I hadn’t been wearing it, who knows how I might have reacted.
Andrew covered his surprise with outpouring welcome. “Claire! This is perfect.” He waved his hand in my neck’s direction. “What do you think?”
“Um…” She hummed. “I don’t know what I should think.”
“I, uh- …wanted to spice up my parent’s, er, you know.”
“Ohhh.” Claire nodded, thankful for the context, any context. “It looks ridiculous.”
“That’s what I told him.” I agreed.
“Aw, Mom, Dad will love it.”
“I’m going to find that book.” Claire turned one-eighty and fled to the living room.
“Andy, if you don’t take this wretched thing off, right now, I’m going to butcher you and save the steaks for myself and your father.” I already had him working every chore I could invent. How he found the time to keep his grades up, I didn’t know. He was a B student. Maybe that explained it. He unlocked me. I sought the safety of the kitchen where I quickly immersed myself in fixing dinner for four.
An hour later, Garrick escaped his office. “Claire, I hope you don’t mind my late welcome.”
“Of course not. I prefer men who don’t expect much from me.” She wandered into the kitchen, soon after. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask to help.”
“Don’t worry.” I grinned. “I don’t need help. I need those bowls and utensils washed.” Hands dripping with bloody marinade, I pointed at the sink with my chin.
“Those steaks better be perfect.” She warned and hiked up her sleeves.
Twenty minutes later, Claire announced in the middle of chewing. “This is fabulous!” She swallowed. “Garrick, I’m going to cuckold you dietetically, by sneaking over and eating lunch with her.”
“Uh, oh!” My husband feigned. “I’ll have to shift my home office days randomly, so I’ll be sure to surprise you two. Ingrid only goes all gourmet when she feels guilty.”
After hot cherry pie and ice cream, Claire sauntered out of our home.
“Andy!” I emphasized after closing the front door, “Dishes, now.” Garrick and I snuggled on the couch. Afterwards, he looked at his son’s homework. I sought our bed and fell asleep.
The next day, I kept my mouth shut while my husband warned my son against beastiality.
“Um, okay, Dad.” He looked as if he wanted to scream. We were dying from held laughter. “I won’t do that.”
“I’m glad we could have this talk.” Garrick offered his hand. Andrew shook it.
Thereafter, our son took extra precautions to hide the collar. I think he hid the new one under the house. It was often dusty when he fastened it around my throat. I assumed he’d thrown out the old one.
– – – – –
I managed to evade my son’s collar, on average, six days a week. His job, his demanding car, and studies saved me most of the time. I kept him busy with chores, and I spent extra time at work now that I was in charge. I took some comfort in that he never required more from me than a handjob or rubbing himself on my body. He often asked me to taste his cum, which I never did. His grades improved, A-.
Garrick took the family out to Andrew’s favorite restaurant, an Eritrean place noted for its spicy sautés and fluffy injera. We even allowed him a small glass of their honey wine. “Congratulations, Son. You’ll be a senior next year. I remember senior-itis well. I was dating your mother.”
“You’ll sleep on your side of the bed tonight, for that, Honey!” I ended with a squeak.
“What I’m trying to say is, if your senior grades are a solid A, I’ll send you on a month’s vacation to whatever continent you want.”
“Gee, Dad, that would be amazing!”
To show approval for my husband’s surprise announcement, I showed him, in bed, I didn’t hold a grudge about his dating comment.
The next morning I surprised Andrew. I went to his room while his father showered.
“Mom?” I interrupted him tying his running shoes. “What’s the matter?”
“You know.” I set my fists on my hips. “I’ve fought you too often already. So I’m going to make you a deal.”
“You’ll come with me, when Dad sends me on that vacation?” His eyes twinkled.
I ignored him. “I’m sick and tired of wearing that lame collar.”
“Honestly, Mom, I actually thought it would grow on you. I guess porn makes for bad education, even when it makes for good fantasies. What are you offering?”
“Hand job, once a week, guaranteed. You’re lucky to abuse me that often.”
“Use you, Mother.” He corrected.
“You’re taking foolish risks. What I’m offering is safer and more convenient for both of us.” Last month, we were nearly caught when his father exited his office to use the bathroom. “Goodbye vacation and everything else! You’re old enough to be booted out of the house without a cent to your name.”
Andy didn’t get mad easily, but his eyes turned to steel. “I don’t want your damn hand jobs. I’ll get rid of the collars, but you have to up your game.”
“That’s not going to happen. This is a take it or leave it offer.” I managed not to flinch.
“Get out of my room, Mom.” He hissed. He didn’t bother me for two weeks. It was an evil portent. I had worried I’d be more vulnerable during his summer break.
My mother called, two weeks later. That’s when I learned what Andrew had been up to.
“Ingrid, I want you to drive over here as soon as possible, with Andy. You will help me with the house here for a couple weeks, and we’ll celebrate his seventeenth here as well.”
“Mother, I can’t leave work at a moment’s notice.” It was the closest thing to a refusal I could say to her.
“Andy assures me you have a competent underling. The solution is simple, hire a temp to help her while you help me.”
“Mom, we don’t have the budget.” I tried.
“You’ll figure something out. I didn’t raise a complete simpleton.” She hung up.
In the end, I took time off without pay. Claire was delighted. She hired someone who had temp’ed at the main branch, half volunteer, half paid.
When I announced my mother’s wishes at dinner, Andrew kept a blank face. He had gotten good at that, after a few close calls with me and his father, over the years. I helped him wash the dishes that night, while his father read.
“What did you say to your grandma?”
“I told her how much I missed her and asked if I could help her over the summer. After that, it was easy to convince her how useful you could be to me and the effort.” He grinned. A drop of spray from the faucet ran down his chin. “She promised she’d overhaul my car’s engine, while we cleaned and moved everything in her house, in exchange and for my birthday.”
Where was my compensation? “I hope your car explodes on the way down.” I seethed. Five minutes after leaving his father, who was glad to escape ‘the effort’, Andrew had me pull over. He collared me and made me jack him off.
“Mmmm, I’ve been saving that one.” He rested, watching me clean up with paper towels kept in the car. “You could save those towels, if you licked it off and swallowed it, Mom.”
I warned him, if there was the smallest stain on my clothes, I’d drive us back home. But Mother awaited. Apparently, Andrew’s car was as unable to resist her summons as I. We made good time, even if it did leak a quart of oil over the five hour drive.
He kept me collared the entire trip. Just outside of my mom’s neighborhood, he had me whack him off again. He persisted. “I’ve tasted it, Mom. It’s nasty, but you’ll learn to like it.” I pulled more towels from my door’s side compartment, having anticipated his lust. He pouted.
Once I was clean, he unlocked the collar and stuffed it into his backpack. Only when we reached ‘Grandma’s’ door, did we put on happy faces.
“Andrew!” Mother gushed and opened her arms. Her grandson blushed and embraced her. “Aw, Grandma, it’s nice to see you too.”
“Son, you’re old enough to call me Ruth. I want you to.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Get inside, Ingrid. Don’t leave us standing in the doorway.” She hugged me after I shut the door. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive. I readied sandwich fixings: cold cuts, lettuce, cheddar.”
“Mom, Andrew texted you several times.”
“Daughter,” she looked at me as if I were twelve. “I don’t like computers in cars, phones or anywhere else they don’t belong.” She turned a smile to Andrew. “You can eat all the white bread you want, here, Andy. Your mom can make us a hot breakfast in the morning, to ready us for the work ahead. Tonight we drink and make merry.” She allowed him one glass of light rosé, while we watched some night club show. He watched her dance once dance. The she watched him dance until he stumbled.
“Time for bed.” I yawned. “I’ll get sheets and a blanket for the couch.” I stood up, wobbling just a bit.” I’d only had one glass, too, but it had been a long, emotion sapping drive.
“Don’t bother. We can put Andy in your queen bed. I made it this morning. There’s room for both of you,” She offered chastely, “Unless you’d rather sleep with me.”
My wits had left their brain an hour ago, before I drank wine. They reminded how Mother would hog the sheets and nag me in my dreams. “I guess, uh, we’ll be fine.” I was grateful I didn’t have to make a couch bed for Andrew, and the worst he’d do would be rub himself against me. It seemed like the lesser evil.
I was awake enough to smile when Andrew pouted at me, for pulling flannel pajamas from my suitcase. I’d bought them special for this trip, fearing he might try to slip into my bed during the night. His fought his disappointment. “You look good in anything, Mom.”
After dressing in the bathroom, I told him. “Good night.” Then I slipped under the covers, leaving two thirds of the bed for him.
I awoke the next morning, with my son’s arm around me. If he had gotten off, during the night, I didn’t remember, and I didn’t feel any wetness or lube soaking my pjs. I looked at the clock. It was five to seven. We’d crashed early, nine pm. I felt rested, well rested. Then I remembered whose home I was in. I always woke at seven, here, like a computer. My subconscious hadn’t forgotten.
I crawled out of bed. It was cold. Mom didn’t run the heater unless the house was buried in snow. I felt a tad happier knowing I would escape my son’s plans for the rest of the day. I dressed and went out to start breakfast.
Mother listed our schedule for the day. She had planned the entire effort across full days of specific work, until Andrew’s birthday. Today we’d hit the bathrooms. “And on the last day, you’ll clean them again, for good measure.” She sipped her coffee and described the work she would perform on her grandson’s car that day, all while keeping sharp eye on the clock. At eight-seventeen, she set down her mug, swallowing the last drop. She forked the last bit of egg into her mouth and strode to the front closet. She pulled out a clean, mechanic’s jumpsuit. She donned them in under twelve seconds. “Good working.” She bid us and drove away in Andrew’s Audi. A co-worker would drive her home.
As expected, I felt the soft rasp of purple leather snake around my throat. Then my world changed in ways I never could have imagined.
“You’ll work in your pajamas today, Mother.” Andrew crossed his arms against his chest.
“D-don’t be ridiculous.” I tried my worn catchphrase. It caught in my throat. I felt myself nod instead. “Yes. Of course.” I replied. I turned and fetched them.
He entered our bedroom as I stripped off my sturdy work pants and linen shirt. “Mom, you never let your figure go, unlike a lot of older Scandinavians.” He appraised my underwear clad form. I noticed him ogling when he walked in. He hadn’t expected me to strip and change in front of him. I certainly didn’t want to. It was simply the most efficient way. We had a lot of work ahead.
“Hold a second.” He called after I grabbed the flannel nightshirt. My hand relaxed, dropping the shirt to the hardwood floor. I heard him unzip his pants, and I felt his warm, solid penis press on the back panel of my cotton panties. “Damn.” He swore. “Gotta get my lube.”
“No time.” I grunted. One hand peeled down the rear half of my panties. I spit into my other hand and swiped it along my hind cleavage. Then I bent slightly, leaning my ass closer to him. My butt surrounded his prick with spit.
“Geez, Mom, what’s gotten into you?” He pressed into my wet cheek and rubbed his cock on me like my backside was a cunt.
“Nothing.” I hissed. “My mind lept to his defense, reminding me, “You are a cunt.” I tried to drown it out. “I hate you.”
“Sure fuck’n don’t feel like it. Aaahhh.” Was he about to cum? His dick swiped through my spit like a skate on ice.
“Don’t swear in your grandma’s home.” I rebuked. My senses reached out to every corner of the house, straining to hear any sound of her. Here we were, standing in my mother’s guest room, my old room, son sluicing his hardon through the spit his mother had placed for him. Insanely, swearing here was a greater violation. “Hurry up and cum.” I’d never told him anything like it before.
“F- Dang! I’m hotter than a fire poker. Your naked ass feels incredible!”
I hunched against his rapid strokes. He bucked up and arced down. My spit was already drying, but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t have long to. With both of us working to pull the sap from his balls, they let loose in record time.
He shouted! Sperm lept over my back, farther than it ever had before. He groaned and squirted six more jets, showering me with hot cum. I kept rubbing butt against his spitting snake, dancing to catch every drop with my body, praying nothing landed on the bed. I had to lean over more, to keep the pool of semen from running down my flesh.
“I see the rug matches your golden curtains.” Andrew taunted, reaching for a tissue box on the dresser.
I surprised him again. “Don’t! We’ll have to empty another wastebasket.” I reached behind me and did my best to scoop up the mess on my back. Swearing under my breath, I brought my hand to my mouth and licked it clean. I had to swipe behind me another three times before I felt I was clean enough to dress. But I wasn’t finished. I straightened up and turned around. I caught his hand in one of mine and combed my other hand up his softening shaft, relieving both of them of their cum. I washed my hand with my tongue. “Tastes awful.”
He stared as if he’d never met me before. I grabbed my pajamas and donned them nearly as fast as mother had her jumpsuit. “Let’s get to work.”
The day nearly broke him. I worked twice as hard. All the chores I’d given him at home were playground games compared to ridding one and a half bathrooms of every grain and stain.
We barely finished bleaching the hall bath’s grout when we heard her thanking her co-worker for the ride.
“Get this off of me!” I growled, tugging at my collar. We raced to the guest room. His hand shook while unlocking it. He was dead tired and caught up in my terror of being discovered. “Greet her!” I pushed him out the door and shut it behind him. I had to change but barely had time to don the work clothes I’d shucked when my son ordered me to wear my now filthy pajamas.
“You have to be firm with your mother, Andy.” I overheard as I entered the living room.
“Yes, Ruth.”
Mother turned to me. “As I thought, your clothes tell me, you made him do all the work today!”
I stopped in my tracks. Tears ran out of my eyes. I didn’t dare correct her.
Andrew tried to intervene. “How does the engine look?”
“Like a genius designed it and and idiot built it.” She was curt. “Wipe your crocodile tears and start dinner, Ingrid. I swear you are the laziest child.”
At supper, Andrew insisted that I had done more than my share of the work. I could hardly talk and kept my head down and eyes fixed on the food before me, allowing him to take her wrath.
“You love your mother, Andy. I love her too, but she’s lucky to have you. I can be harsh. Her husband dotes on her indecently, but I also know he did right by you. I’ll grant him that. You have to be the middle ground. Every boy should work hard for their mother, but women are evolved to exceed men without shaming them. I’m ashamed, for you. Don’t defend her against the evidence.
There was no dancing after dinner. I had to clean up the kitchen and haul the trash to the curb, to balance my work deficit. She let him pick one of the six, Victorian costume dramas she owned. They watched it while I struggled with watering the lawn in the dark.
By the time I reached my bed, I didn’t care if my son watched me undress completely. I slid naked under the covers. I didn’t care if my son fucked me during the night. He ended up enjoying the show more than expected and found me dead asleep.
I woke up at seven am, with my son’s arm around me. A box of tissues rested on the pillow above my head. Between us I felt damp paper wads. I swore if his cum stained the mattress, I’d kill myself. He grumbled, half asleep while I picked up the mess and examined the sheet. He’d used plenty of tissues. I sighed, grateful, and headed into the shower. I washed and massaged my sore muscles. I heard my son getting out of bed as I exited the bathroom.
After he showered, Andrew looked for me in the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Mom. I knew Gran could be a firebrand, but it’s as if she wants you to disappoint her.”
“It’s not that simple, Andrew. Maybe you’ll figure it out before your birthday.” I prayed he would never figure it out.
Mother arrived exactly at eight am, and breakfast commenced. Today we would tackle the living room. She assigned me to crawl under the house and assess the floorboards from below. “First you’ll have to move the furniture to the garage, before scrubbing the room and washing the carpets.” I got carpet duty too.
She drove her car to work, making room for furniture in the garage. Moving the items took an hour and a half. We had to lighten a wardrobe and two bookshelves first. The couch concealed an iron frame, folding bed stuck in folded position. She hadn’t required us to repair it, but we had to lug it a hundred feet. That took half an hour. My sweat soaked into the leather collar.
While Andrew stripped the room of picture frames, curtains, and wall shelving, I suited up in one of mom’s jumpsuits. I tied my hair in a scarf, grabbed a web duster, flashlight, and scraper, and walked outside to the eastern wall. There, low to the ground, was an access flap. I unlatched it and shined the light. No raccoons leaped out at me. It smelled of old skunk. The only spiders I feared were black widows, but mother had the house sprayed annually. I should have worried about the poisoned earth beneath the house. Crawling through, I looked for gaps in the floorboards, to scrape off crap that had fallen through. We weren’t scheduled to chink the gaps until the following day. I searched and I scraped. It was easier when Andrew dragged the heavy, oriental carpets from the room. Light from the windows revealed most of the gaps.
Just before noon, I slithered my way back to the panel. Lila Aggis scurried up to me soon after I pulled my head free from the hatch.
“Ingrid, how have you been?” She asked before sighting the purple band around my throat. “Oh.” She stepped back, involuntarily.
“Hello, Lila. I’m doing well, and I owe you my thanks.”
She rambled, trying not to look at my collar. “Th-that’s good. Ruth said you would be visiting. I wanted to remind you, just in case, but you’re well. I must run home.” She turned.
“Remind me of what?”
“Eh, that group, for if you had any troubles.” She walked away, speeding up as the distance between us grew. I saw her reach her front door. It opened and Eric, her son, grabbed her hair and tugged her inside. I bit my lip and re-entered my own jail.
I fixed Andrew and I a light lunch. “Best to avoid a full stomach when heavy work awaits.” I told him.
“Stand up, Mom.” Andrew commanded after we’d finished our soup.
I stood, but complained, “I need to wash the dishes before fetching the galvanized tub from the shed out back.”
“Good. Then you’ll be quick about this. Pull down your pants and panties, Mom.”
I had stuffed the filthy overalls in laundry. My hands complied while my mouth sputtered. “This isn’t the time.”
“Make time.” He unzipped his pants.
The doorbell rang. Andrew restrained a curse and closed his pants. He went to the door, while I fussed with pulling up my clothes.
“Hey, hi, I just brought some beers… Uh, who are you?” A familiar voice boomed.
“Who are you?” Andrew asked back.
“Whoa, just a neighbor, young lad. I’m Eric.” It was Lila’s son.
“What do you want?” Andrew pressed.
“You must be her son. I just wanted to say hi to your mom. Tell her not to be a stranger while she’s visiting. My mother gets lonely for female company, especially after my Dad divorced her.”
“I’m Andrew. My mom is busy.”
“Heh. I keep my mom busy too.” Eric’s snort of laughter carried to my ears. “Well, do let her know she’s welcome. Hell, you’re welcome too. Let me introduce you to my mom. Maybe we can figure something out between us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah. Probably not. Don’t forget to invite her, though. The beer’s always cold at my place, and the company is warm.”
“Sure. Good-bye.”
“Bye.” My son closed the door and re-entered the kitchen. “Who the heck was that?”
“Don’t worry about it. Eric’s harmless.” I lied. Silence between us lasted two seconds. “I’ll start on the dishes.”
“I’ll run a load of laundry.” Andrew tended the chore, shedding his bewilderment.
I was shoulder deep in suds, washing the heavy rugs in the bath sized tub, when Andrew returned to me. He saw me struggle with the massive things. Water tripled their weight.
“Take a break, Mom.”
“There isn’t time.”
“You’re soaking wet. Take off your shirt and let the sun dry it.”
“There’s one more rug.” My fingers fumbled at the pearlescent buttons. I pulled off the wet thing and hung it on a line tied between the shed and the house.
“Take off your bra, too.”
“It’s not that wet.”
“That’s not the point. Come here.”
I approached my son. He reached for my upper garment. “How you release this?” My son had never taken a bra off.
“Please. Anyone could be watching.”
“I checked. We should be good for a few minutes.” He ushered me into the shed. It stank of fertilizer, poisons, and paint. “Now take it off.”
“There’s no place to put it!” I reached behind me.
“I’ll wrap it around your head if you keep complaining.”
It fell from my chest. My tits unfolded. I preferred bras a half size too small, to remind me that I should never tease my son, even inadvertently. Now my breasts hung before him, in the dim light of the shed.
Andrew unzipped his pants and fished out a very hard cock. “Something about that weird guy made me keep thinking about you. Who does he think he is, trying to woo you over to his house? I need to be sure you realize something about us. Kneel on the floor, Momma, and hold your breasts out.
I lifted my C and C and one half sizes, and separated them. I looked away.
“Spit on my dick, Mom.”
I gathered a large glob in my mouth before spilling it over the head of his prick. My spittle dribbled down his shaft, but before his light colored hairs caught any of it, he pushed his dick between my tits and fucked.
I closed my barely adequate orbs around his erection and let him slick my spit between them. Once more, I looked away.
“You do know, right Mom? You know you’re mine. I can make you do anything.”
“Not anything.” I warned him, truthfully.
He snorted. “This will be enough for the afternoon.” He seemed to like a slower pace between my’s bust than my butt. “Nice. I should have done this sooner.” He twirled a lock of my hair around a finger, causing me to face him. “But it wouldn’t have worked, right?” He questioned me with a glance. “There’s something about being here, around your mom that makes you fight less.” He kept my head in check with his hand in my hair. “I can’t believe I’m fucking your tits, Mom.” His grin warped when a spasm of delight shot up from his pumping dick. “It’s okay to swear in here. I guess, Mom. Maybe I’ll fuck you in here, some day.”
“If we don’t finish our work, you’ll learn something about swearing nobody should hear.” I held my breasts tight around his pistoning cock. Unable to turn, I lifted my face away from the punching end of my son’s manhood. He noticed.
“You can wash off my face paint, when you clean the last rug.” He sped up humping me between my bare titties. “Oooohhh. I get damn horny around you, Mother!”
“Just hurry it up.” I fretted. “Cum, damn you. Cum.” I urged hoarsely.
“Gods, this feels fantastic!” He shouted. His cock pulsed rapidly. His ball sack slapped my upper belly. His hand clenched in my hair.
I winced and ground my teeth together.
“Fucking Cumming, Mom!” He roared. “Catch it in your mouth and swallow it, damn slut!” His prostate erupted. Sperm launched out of uncircumcised tip. The first jet sprayed the left side of my face and soaked my hair there. Another followed instantly. It shot up my nose and coated my closed, left eye. Two more spat across my lips before he shifted to the right. Another jet burned that cheek. More spilled between my tits. “Ooohhhh!! Suck it all, Mom.” He had closed his eyes at first eruption. He must have imagined filling my mouth.
When the last dribbles ran across the top of my breasts, his eyes opened and studied his work of art. He pulled out from my tits, careful to wipe his tip across one nipple and then the other. Releasing my hair, he zipped up and stepped back.
There wasn’t anything clean in the shed, not one shard of cloth. I wiped my hands on my wet pants and scraped off my son’s cum with my fingers.
“Eat it, Mom. Eat my cum.”
I looked at it, congealing between the digits. The flush in my body reached my extremities, keeping the sperm warm. They were dying by the millions. I stuffed one hand in my mouth and sucked. Andrew grinned. “That’s beautiful, Mom.” He waited until I had licked my other hand clean, nodding approval.
“I still gotta scrub the living room.” He rushed out, cheeks red from his orgasm.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9aieqj/smoms_ingrid_ch4_fm_reluctant_noncon_slow_mast