S.M.O.M. (Ingrid) by DiscipleN
Chapter 6
I remained with mother for another week, helping to put her affairs in place before living with us.
Lila Aggis visited. We talked in the living room.
Mother was not entirely forgiving. “Lila, it’s been too long. I tried to see you, a few times, but your son told me you weren’t receiving guests.”
I asserted. “Eric is having a difficult time, Mother. I’m not sure he would have told her of your visits.”
“No.” Lila agreed. “I’ve had trouble escaping the house. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you this last week.”
“Oh.” Mother stepped back from one confrontation to spark another. “Send Eric to live with me for a month, and I’ll set him to rights.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
“Maybe when you come home again, in a month or two.” I told Mom.
“He called me a hag, once.” Mother fumed.
“I’m so sorry!” Lila lept up, but there was nothing she could do. “I didn’t know!”
Mother got up too. “Excuse me.” She turned and headed out of the room. “Those damn pills constipate a body. I may be a while.” She sequestered herself in the bathroom.
Lila sank into her chair. I sighed, and slumped on the couch. “What are we going to do?” I spoke softly.
“You’re lucky to be free, for a few days. I’ve been under Eric’s control, every day, for years.” Her eyes looked decades older than her forty something years.
My throat constricted. I choked out a long repressed sob and confessed! “What am I becomming? I encouraged him the other night.”
“I can’t answer, Ingrid, not reliably. Every woman’s story is so different.”
“How would you know?”
“The group. I told you about it.”
“How does someone attend? How did you discover them? Are they really helpful?”
“I tell Eric, I’m getting my hair done, and I do. He has no idea how long it takes for a beauty treatment. The group may be the only thing keeping me sane, but again, every member’s experience is different. You may find it a waste of time. You seem more in control of your situation.”
“It’s a sham.” I dropped my head into my hands. “He’s gaining control over me. I-I see how I’m being trained. I don’t think I can stop it.”
“Come with me, in two days. I’ll square it with our coordinator.”
“Maybe.” I wanted to go, but in my heart I feared redemption. “Mother may have plans for me.” I weaseled. My lower thoughts rebelled out their inner darkness. “You need to go to your son, and give yourself to him completely.” Guilt and shame overwhelmed me. I resumed crying.
“What’s the matter child?” Mother returned from her ablutions.
“Lila told a very sad story.” I prevaricated.
“I should go.” Lila stood in Mother’s presence.
“I’ll let you out.” My mom opened the door for her guest. “Please, do come again.” She meant it.
I heard her close the door, but I continued weeping into my hands.
Mother sat next to me and took me into her arms. “I should have hugged you more, Ingrid, when you were growing up. I-I’m not good at comforting. My father-”
“Oh, Mother, you’re wonderful!” I hugged her, suddenly happy to let my tears flow.
Two days later, I rang Lila’s doorbell. Eric answered, but I refused to enter the house. I told him, “She wants to introduce me to her beauty clinician.”
He eyed me and licked his lips. “She’s coming.” He grinned. Behind him, there were sounds, a woman’s voice, low and evocative.
“I can wait.” I backed off from the token porch. Two minutes later, Lila, deeply red-faced, shuffled out. Her lips signaled trouble. I kept quiet until we climbed aboard her SUV.
“What’s the matter?”
“I-I” Her speech failed. She started the engine and backed out of the drive way. Lila steered somewhat erratically. Turning right at the first intersection, she drove half a block and pulled over. Then she doubled over in her seat. “Oooohhh!” She gasped and clutched her groin. I saw something moving under her skirt.
“He’s such an idiot!” The housemom declared. She reached under the folds of her skirt and plucked out a small, egg vibrator. “After the first cum or two, these things dry you out and hurt!”
I gaped.
After recovering some comfort, Lila drove us to a beauty parlor. She didn’t care which one. She had quick work done while I waited. Exiting, we rode to the edge of town. It was a nice area. She pulled into the parking lot of a gentleman’s club.
“Lila, I don’t think we have the same idea about sharing experiences.”
Uncharacteristic humor lit her face. “Silly. This establishment doesn’t open until nightfall.” We climbed down from the SUV. She led me to a side door and knocked. I was disappointed when she didn’t speak a passcode. The door opened, and the lady inside ushered us to the meeting room. It smelled like stale sex. More members arrived, and they lit a candle.
I’m not going to reveal that group’s stories or describe them. In the most important ways, none of them were special. Yet all of them suffered exceptional emotional labor at the whims of their son or sons.
I shared my story with them. In comparison to theirs, mine was as traumatic as a scraped knee. None of them judged me. They encouraged me to fight. Some of them had resisted more successfully than others. All agreed, the lower you fell, the greater you suffered. Poor Lila had fallen very low, but she wasn’t the one worst off. Her comment about the differences of their experiences sank into my soul. Their session ended when the candle burned out. I left by myself. Each member must, to avoid revealing secrets outside of the group. When I reached Lila’s car – she waited there for me – I fully understood the power of sisterhood. We embraced and had a good cry.
On the return trip, I grilled her for everything she knew about the organization. It mostly wasn’t. Hers was one of many groups around the world comprising an organization in the loosest sense. Most are in America where it started some time after the civil war. No one knows who started it or where it began, but it languished until a woman during the fifties managed to bring discipline to arranging the forums. The women who could, took proactive efforts to introduce others. Before then a few lucky hundreds of women were helped. Now it’s guessed that tens of thousands of son ravished mothers meet in secret. It still isn’t officially an organization. There aren’t leaders. Most circles hardly know one other. Unlike AA, if you’re lucky enough to be invited into a group, that’s the only group you’ll likely ever have.
Instead of history, there is legend. In the aftermath of the civil war, particularly in the south, so many husbands and older sons died in the war, a majority of wives and mothers took control of their farms and businesses. A tiny fraction of those women could not escape their conditioning to oblige male supremacy. They fell to the whims of their younger sons. These barely adolescent boys, struggling with the loss of fathers and brothers, and urged by the onset of adult hormones, took sexual control of mothers with submissive personalities. One amazing woman established the first group, against horribly oppressive social norms. The story Lila told mesmerized me. It would lay within, like a seed, dormant for months.
She dropped me off at Mother’s. Thanking her one last time, I lost my voice when I recognized how she shifted in her seat. I looked for the vibrating egg. It had vanished from where Lila, I thought, had rid herself of it.
She blushed, knowing what I suspected. “Please, do not judge me.”
I shut the door, speechless. Instead, I shook my head. “No. I never would.” I tried to communicate. She smiled, eyes glistening, and drove back to her son’s domain.
“You don’t look all beautied up.” Mom observed upon my entrance.
“I’m more beautiful on the inside, now.” I told her.
Days flowed into another week. I had packed the car. Mother make a few final calls to her employees and to her doctor. She was well on her way to recovering, he told her.
“The next two months will be easy as pie.” Mom smiled. We climbed in her car and rode off into the sunrise. Mother drove.
“For a ten year old, minor car line, this Ford Focus has an engine that rivals electrics. I made a few, special modifications.” Mother sped down the freeway. At one hundred miles per hour, it glided down the road as if it flew above it. Twice the highway patrol pulled her over. Each time, Mother spoke with them matter of factly, confessing her guilt, blaming her age, and flattering them like a Georgia flower. “They don’t even log the infraction on their computer, when I’m done with The Man.”
A five hour trip was made a four hour trip. The difference wasn’t as great as I expected. Cop stops took a big bite into our travel time. We arrived before noon. We’d had breakfast before departing. I made lunch in my own kitchen after nearly a month away. The men unloaded my mother’s things and installed them in Garrick’s office. He would have to work at his company for the next month or two.
Later that day, I signed Mother up at the local, consulting doctor’s office. That night I resumed conjugal visits with my husband in our bed. It was as fulfilling as ever. We fucked like lab animals subjected to pheromones and separated by a partition, after the partition had been pulled out. The second night, we made love.
It took another week for life to settle into a new routine. It pleased me greatly that, all the while, Andrew couldn’t find one minute to collar and use me. His balls must have been dark blue from weeks of backed up cum, or he broke his promise to stop masturbating. Half of his summer remained.
I settled into my old routine at work. Claire filled me in about fires, those she had put out and those ongoing. She had handled the job better than I expected, and I knew her to be incredibly capable. I invited her to meet my mother. Our schedules didn’t sync up for over a week.
The designated night saw the best meal ever prepared in my home. Everyone pitched in. Garrick grilled the salmon. Andrew made garlic potato smash, his own invention. I sautéed young asparagus in lightly peppered butter, until their rigidity barely softened. Mother roasted eggplant over a burner and seasoned it with truffles and delicately simmered leeks. Claire brought a black forest cake she had made from scratch. It was a crowning taste to the wonderful dinner we shared.
Afterwards, Mother extracted story after story from our guest, until I had to separate them. “Mom, I swear you’re bleeding her pale to expiration.” In my home, I was freer to be assertive with Mother. “Oh, you.” She waved me off. My distraction allowed Claire to escape to a swiftly struck up conversation with Andrew.
Garrick informed that he had finished cleaning the grill. “Now you can start on the dishes.” Mother announced. My husband didn’t dare argue, but he flashed me a WTF. “I’ll help.” We tacked the pile with aplomb. Fortunately, we owned a dishwasher. I had capitulated almost a year ago.
“Andrew has been acting odd, since he returned from your Mother’s.” Garrick started.
“How?”
“He created an encrypted folder on the computer, and he’s been taking his car out for hours.”
“He said he went to the race track, yesterday.” I reminded.
“It’s either that or the university.” My husband worried. I didn’t. Our city was lucky to have one the best in the state. He deciphered the skepticism on my face. “You had to be here.”
“What about his part time work?”
“I asked him that. He said he’s been earning enough for his car and occasional pizza/movie nights, under the table.” Garrick related. “When I pressed him, he told me to trust him.”
“Do you?”
“Since when was this about me?” He got defensive.
“Honey, you just raised enough red flags to turn America communist.”
“And he’s been spending a lot of time with your mother in her room and in the garage.” My husband’s evasion succeeded brilliantly.
I stopped talking. My brain spun ouy possibilities like a million monkeys typing. We finished the hand wash items and loading the dishwasher, long before my brain stopped typing out dire possibilities. Garrick left me standing in the kitchen, like a wall unit. Wait, how would my husband know what Andrew’s been doing, while he and I are both at work. A worse thought batted that one out of the park. What was my sex deprived son doing with my mother?
“I’m teaching him to be a mechanic.” Mother told me the next day. “He’s already getting odd jobs on Angie’s List. His rating is top notch, but it could be improved.” Mother never settled for less than perfection. But why would Andrew keep this effort to himself?
“I wasn’t sure I could live up to Grandma’s standards.” He told me that night.
“Andy,” I assured, “Nobody could!”
“Well, she’s not the same since she moved in with us.”
“Yes, here she doesn’t have absolute control. And she’s been through a challenge we can’t possibly measure. Mother made a terrible mistake taking those drugs. It nearly killed her. Now she has to forgive herself. From what she’s mentioned about her father, he wasn’t at all forgiving.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Actually you’re helping, distracting her from the troubles with what she loves most, but you’re also slowing her progress.”
“Now you’re sounding like the tough-love goddess of the family, instead of her.” He chuckled.
“Why are you spending so much time at the university? You have another year of high school.”
“Summer won’t last forever.” Was all he’d tell me. Truth was, I trusted my son. I knew the dark secret of his heart. Other than that, he was strong and capable and moral. Garrick trusted the boy because he’d given up trying to inspire him. The son’s personality was already outshining the father’s. Too, Garrick deeply loved his progeny, and he also believed Andrew was a good man. What wasn’t there to trust? If only my husband knew. I prayed he never would, and I am an atheist.
Two days after the party, the dice rolled in Andrew’s favor. Actually, he had been working for this opportunity for two weeks. Mother was getting her check up and maintenance prescription. Garrick was still at work, and I ended a short day. My son met me at the door with my collar.
“Not now, Andrew.” I resisted. “Mother will be home at any moment.
“You’re wrong, Mom. I texted her about the wait. You know how crowded those public rehab clinics get. That gives us more than an hour. Now take your collar like a good bitch.”
“Don’t expect much.” The noose tightened once more upon my neck. “I warned you, things would be different now that we’re back home.”
“Say what you want, Mom. Now go into my room and take off your clothes, everything.”
“AUGHH!” I exclaimed my frustration, as my body moved to obey.
I waited nearly five minutes for him to check on my compliance. He entered carrying a small plastic lunchbox that looked like a tool box, or maybe it was a toy toolbox. He nodded and drove his eyes up and down his mother’s naked body. “Good. Now bend over, putting your hands on my bed and pushing out your butt. Today, we’re going to learn about ownership.”
“Andrew! I will not accept being violated by you, I’ll fight with conviction. You may be stronger, but it won’t be any fun. I know you would never rape me.”
“Don’t be sure about anything, anymore, Mother.” My son growled. “I may not ‘rape’ you in the classic way, but your consent isn’t worth a piss when you’re wearing that collar. Put your hands on my bed and stick out your butt.”
I could either fight my way out of my son’s room or fall, one or more steps, under his control. I compromised, leaning down with my fists on his bed but clenching and keeping my hips in line with my legs. I peered behind me. Everything was upside down.
Andrew set the plastic box on his desk. He opened it and took out a jar of coconut oil. “When did you last take a shit, Mom?”
“Son, that’s going too far-”
“Tell me, Mom!” He barked.
The answer recoiled off my tongue. “I used the toilet before leaving work.”
“Good. That’s taken care of.” He uncapped the jar and dug two fingers into the solid, greasy mass. “I said, bend over.” He insisted. His clean hand put down the jar and grabbed my hip. He tugged it. I should have straightened up and turned around. My fists remained on his blanket. My ass jutted back.
He peeled my cheeks apart, and his oiled fingers swiped slick globs between them. The chunks melted and oil ran down my taint and soiled my pussy lips.
“NNGGGHHH!” I grunted when his finger pressed through my bung.
“I have to get plenty inside.” He told me. He dug twice more from the jar and pressed grease chunks up my ass. He seemed satisfied when he could run two fingers, easily, in and out of my sphincter. I was no stranger to anal sex, but I could take or leave it. I didn’t have a choice that day. What confused me but gave small hope, he hadn’t taken down his trousers. Then I learned my fate. From my perspective, a fat, black butt plug fell out of the toolbox and into his oiled hand. He fondled it until oil coated it. It looked twice the width of his father’s cock, which was somewhat thicker than his.
“No, Son. Keep that thing out of me.” I decried. “It’s enormous!”
“I hope Dad wasn’t planning on being a brown dirt cowboy tonight. This is going to stretch you.” He placed the plug’s narrow end at my ass and pushed gently. “Resist, Mom.”
“Huh?” Why would he want me to clench? I was glad to oblige. That sucker wouldn’t get a hair’s width inside. I battened down the hatch with all my strength. He pressed the greased lump harder. From a logical standpoint, a clenched anus is far more efficient than an entire arm. I had more leverage, and my ass was no slouch.
“That’s right, Mom. Fight it.” He was happy. I didn’t understand the game, until his other hand came into play. SWACK!! It smacked one cheek solidly! “LET GO!” He yelled.
Instantly confused, I obeyed without thinking. Andrew had struck me! My clench vaporized. The oiled plug slid into my colon as if it had been sucked in! “Ohh! AAAHHH!” I yelled. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it filled me like nothing ever had. My knees started dancing as I looked back and rebelled. “Get it out of me!” After this, I would never worry about constipation.
“It’s perfect, Mom. The flange is firm against your cheeks. It should hold nicely.”
“It’s too big!” I wailed. “I can’t take it.”
“You already have, Mom. Dance all you want.” He backed off. I heard him unzip. “Turn around, and I’ll take your mind off of it.”
I tried to stand, but the plug threatened to shift with greater discomfort. Keeping bent, I jigged 180 degrees. My rear waggled like a frantic Weeble. Andrew’s hard cock waited.
“At least, I’ll keep you from complaining about it.” He grabbed my hair with his ass grease hand, and pushed flesh into my mouth. I could have clenched my teeth. I could have bitten him. I gurgled angrily, and if he had been dumb enough to press all of it in, I would have gagged or vomited.”
“I wanted my first suck job to be special, Mom.” He rode my tongue with half his prick, until he retracted. “Lick it!” He ordered.
My tongue reached out but missed. The pillar in my anus was too awkward for standing still. My head swayed half as much as my butt, fighting my son’s grip. The pain in my scalp contrasted against the discomfort in my butt. I winced and stamped. “This won’t work!” I pleaded.
“Obey me, Mother.” He asserted. His hand moved, following my swaying head, without lessening his grip. The half measure to ease the strain on my scalp helped.
My lips brushed his demanding cock head several times. I swiped it with my tongue more and more as my body adjusted to the invader’s firmness.
“Suck it, Mom. Suck it.”
I managed to capture the head in my mouth, and I drew in my cheeks. My rear wobbled less as my dance ended.
“Mmmm! This is so fucking hot!” Andrew smiled at my continuing discomfort but increasing obedience. Releasing my hair, his greasy hand and dry hand palmed my ears, catching greater control of my head. “Your tongue is really grooving my prick!” He delighted. He pushed his dick into my face.
I gagged but managed to breathe when his cock hit the back of my throat. He held it there for a second before withdrawing slowly. I lapped the length of his hard shaft. My cheeks caressed it. I can’t say if I consciously obeyed or simply reacted out of habit. I relished sucking my husband’s cock. The huge butt plug, sitting like wet cement in my rear, dragged on my attention. I had never felt constipated and incontinent at the same time. My bowels strived to eject the mass of silicone. Without external assistance, it couldn’t squeeze it out with all the coconut oil in the world! I reached back, but a word from Andrew stopped my hands.
“Leave it, Mother. Don’t do anything but what I’ve told you!” To emphasis what he required, Andrew humped his prick back into my face. I coughed and struggled for breath. He prompted. “You’re more than able to take it from two ends at once.”
I didn’t think so, but my mouth worked harder to please him instead of dislodging his incestuous manhood from his mother’s mouth. His dick pulled back and he began fucking my face with slow strokes.
Bent over without support, except for lips clinging to my son’s cock, my waist tired. I couldn’t reach the floor. So I clung to my son’s half covered ass. His jeans, splayed open in the front, had slipped from his waist. His pumping dick pushed hardest the moment my weight shifted to his hips, gagging me again.
“Don’t asphyxiate yourself. I’m not into that.” Andrew chuckled. He fucked my mouth and sighed contentedly. “It better than I imagined, Mom.”
I caught my breath before sucking my son’s cock harder than I would my husband. I never let Garrick fuck my face when I blew him. I told myself, I only wanted to end this double torment as quickly as possible. My inner demon accused, “You need to be controlled. It frees slut in you!”
Slowly, my attention turned from the fullness in my bowels. I found the right place to hang onto Andrew’s stance without distorting his rocking motion. My mouth slurped up saliva drooling out of corners of my lips. I licked and resisted his thrusting meat with my tongue. He groaned and fucked faster.
“MMmnnnnphhhhggghhhh!!” I grunted when his cock speared deeper into my throat. My gag reflex coped with his thrusts at the same pace my ass accommodated the thick invader in my backside.
“That feels amazing, Mom! You must really be getting into sucking your boy for the first time.” His confident voice embarrassed me.
I don’t know how many minutes I orally stimulated my son’s dick. Not many, but it felt like an hour. He managed to keep his balls from tipping over, longer than his father, but not much longer.
The tightness in my rear faded, or I simply paid more attention to the hearty penis rutting in my mouth. I don’t remember. Suddenly Andrew grabbed my head and drove his prick as far into my face as possible. I thought I would die! Gagging was just the start of that torturous moment. When his semen gushed out, It sprayed dangerously close to my wind pipe. My son nearly drowned me with cum. I think now, his prick was long enough to block the entrance to my lungs. As his cock erupted hot fluids into my body, he howled like a wolf!
“FUCK!!!! YEAAAHHH!!! AAAAAHHH!!!!”
He had taken me by force of will, to enjoy incestuous sexual release, without care for my comfort. This was new, and I hated myself for every sufferable moment. Some of that hate spilled out like the last of his cum. I grunted, desperate for air, and struck his hip bone with all my strength. Andrew fell back and his cock flapped out of my head, dripping white pearls.
“Never do that again!” I shrieked, struggling to stand. The fat dong in my ass resisted sudden movement, and I staggered from it’s invading presence. “I hate you!” I reached back to the thick silicone flang. It was destined to the trash, I decided.
“Mother!” Andrew shouted. “OK!” He stood and grabbed my reaching arm. “I won’t, but you leave that in you, or I think of something worse.”
“Wake up, Son. This is over. I don’t know how I ever fell into this.” I snarled. “Let go, and get the hell away from me.”
He studied me with a mean frown. I meant what I said. If it wasn’t obvious, I would make it obvious. His hand tightened around my arm. I tried to shake free of his grip but failed. I clenched my other hand into a fist.
“Sure, Mom.” He let go. “I shouldn’t have pressed you so hard.” Andrew straightened his stance. His eyes burned at me. “I don’t know why you let me get this far. I don’t care. I want you, and I’ll take you again, when there’s a chance in the future. You’re too pissed off, with good reason, to see what I’ve seen. It’s gone now, but how long can you keep it away. It’s a part of you, like lungs. You may cough and empty them, but soon, you’ll draw another breath. I’ll hear it from miles away.” He reached for my collar.
My hand grasp the fat, rubbery flange.
“I’m going to unfasten this, Mom. Don’t move.”
His words stopped my hand. Damn! I only needed to tug the plug and strain my bowel. Grease oozed around my sphincter. It would pop out like a jack in the box.
Andrew unbuckled the purple collar. He slipped it off of me. “Leave that in you, Mom, until you have to shit. Then find me.”
I strained and tugged. It was more firm inside me than I’d thought.
“Stop, Mom.” Andrew fiddled with the collar in his hands.
I leaned for leverage.
“Hello, Grandma.” Andrew swiveled his head.
I leaped into the air and cranked my neck to where he looked. My arms flew to cover my tits and cunt.
There was nothing. “Andrew!”
“Heh. How does that plug feel now?”
“You fucking bastard!” I growled.
“I’m a virgin, Mom.” He grinned.
“Take it out!” I demanded.
“I will, when you need to shit.”
“Fuck you!”
“You’re not ready for that.”
I cried then, groaning from despair. I swept up what clothes I could, with a single swipe as I ran out of the room. Locking myself in the master suite, I wept until Mother returned home.
“You get something in your eyes, Ingrid?” Mother shook a passing bill of health and a renewed prescription for her detox drug at me. We sat at the kitchen table, me uncomfortably. I had just served tea. Andrew played games on the computer in his room
“Regret, Mother. I wish I’d never had a child.” I shifted in my seat for the third time in two minutes.
“You got regret in your backside, too?” She gave half a grin. She was more concerned than her expression let on.
Hemorrhoids. I took something for them, already.
“I knew you don’t eat right.”
“Don’t start comparing what we put into our mouths, Mother.” I returned her grin, while staring at the prescription.
“I could give you something to put in your mouths, Mom, Grandma.” Andrew entered and opened the fridge. How about chicken salad, as in real salad.
“Don’t bother. When do you expect Garrick, Ingrid?
“He’s officially – a tad late.”
A car pulled into the driveway.
“He’s no slacker.” Mom gave him. “He’s just not as strong as you.”
“Mom, you know very well how hard it is to keep a family housed, clothed, and fed.”
“I love your husband because you love him. I don’t have to like him.”
“You nearly brought a shotgun to our wedding!”
Mother huffed and looked at her nails. “He’s predictable.”
“Grandma, don’t be like that about Dad.” Andrew chimed in. “Without him, I wouldn’t be me.”
Mother didn’t say anything, continuing to examine her nails. A half smile formed on her lips.
The garage door opened. “Hello, Son, Mother, Ruth.”
“I knew he’d say that.” Mother whispered.
I groaned internally and bounced up. A stiffness caught me, mid-air, and I landed awkwardly against my husband. “Sorry.” I hugged and kissed him.
“This is why I love having your mother over.” He kissed me back.
That night, Andrew made salad without chicken, and I seared a fillet of halibut. We ate and talked, little.
Garrick was in a randy mood after chocolate ice cream for dessert. We made excuses to go to bed early. In our bedroom, I made excuses about being more available for him. I tried to go down on my husband but tears nearly destroyed the mood. What I had previously relished was now disgusting. My husband had to settle for groping my bare boobs and french kissing me, while I gave him a handjob.
“Haven’t done that in a while.” He sighed happily, resting his head on a pillow.
I feared my hand and mouth would be his outlets until I convinced myself to take the damn plug out of my butt. “I’ll be right back.” I got up and left the room.
Knocking on the door to Andrew’s room, I said quietly. “I need to go.”
“Okay, Mom.”
If he hadn’t responded, I would have opened his door. I went to the common bathroom and fidgeted uncomfortably.
Inside, I slipped off my robe and pulled down my panties. I felt for the plug. It was as solid and annoying as ever.
The door opened. Andrew wore an all business expression. “You okay?” He carried the jar of coconut oil.
“No.” I swiveled my ass at him.
I felt his touch through the plug. He tested its tightness. “Yep, it’s really in there.”
“It better not be, soon, or I’ll be puking shit.”
“Gross!”
“You started it.”
“Give me a few seconds.” He twisted the thick mass.
I grunted and hunched the flange out from his fingers.
“Keep still.”
“You wear the damned thing!”
“I have.” Andrew assured. “I’ll not try anything on you I haven’t tried myself.”
“REALLY?” I snarled. “Whose cock reached down your throat, before today?”
He spanked the flange, hard! “Hush!”
I yelped!
Gripping it firmly this time, Andrew slowly increased his pull. “Bear down, Mom.”
I grunted and strained.
The door opened.
The butt plug popped out with a rude plop!
“I brought you a creme.” Mother offered. Her hand dropped a dented tube and fell at her side. She closed the door.
I stood stunned for minutes. I couldn’t even cry. When I could react, I had to hike up my panties and wrap my robe over my remaining nakedness before I could race out.
Packing a bag, Mother said, “Don’t any of you call me.” She only asked if I had filled the tank in her car.
Fortunately, Garrick was dead asleep, while I sobbed and clung to my mother.
She ignored me. I could have stopped her. I was stronger than her. I didn’t have any strength.
Andrew, wisely, disappeared.
I ran after mom’s Ford Focus, as it drove away.
When Andrew found me drenched in tears, sitting on the curb, he reminded me to shit. I went into our house and obeyed.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9n27wj/smoms_ingrid_ch_6_fm_reluctant_oral_anal_slow