Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Servicing mom (lowblow emma and foxy lady)

Pete had hardly spoken a word to Angela since they entered her bedroom, apart from asking her to turn over. But she had followed his every thought through his finger tips. She knew where he was going and what he would do when he got there as surely as if he were providing her with a running commentary. Even his pauses spoke louder of his thoughts and feelings than any words could convey. With her eyes closed she was aware only of the soft flickering candle light in the bedroom, the steady sound of his breathing and the touch of his fingers. He used enough oil to lubricate but not enough to destroy the friction that gave her so much pleasure as his fingers floated over her body. There was only one part, one small part that he had yet to touch and she knew he was waiting, withholding that pleasure from both himself and her. She sensed a slight movement, that would be him reaching for some oil. And then …

Then a drop of warm oil landed on her clit. A momentary thrill of contact before she felt it slide away to be replaced by a second drop and then by his finger, circling slowly, touching lightly at first and then applying increasing pressure. All his energy and all her awareness were concentrated on that one tiny part of her anatomy.

Round and round he circled, occasionally drifting lightly across her throbbing bud, before treating back to orbit like a planet round the sun. Teasing her with a close approach, tormenting her with a sudden sharp nail scrapped across the nerve endings. Seeming to have some intuitive link with her, knowing when her first ripples were beginning in her belly, when she sensed the first contractions of her vagina. It was barely discernible but gradually it became more noticeable. His speed was increasing and with it his pressure and the fingers of his other hand were playing around the entrance to her cunt. She tipped her hips in invitation but he maintained his own pace, refusing to be drawn too soon into the spiral that would lead to an orgasm.

Momentarily she wondered if he was ready. How could he not be? With all the sensations he had generated in her, feeling her response through those sensitive tips. She knew what she would do. She knew how this had to end, for her. All the calm that he has so carefully created would be broken and that moment was close now. In her distraction she was taken by surprise by his sudden and urgent thrusting with his fingers.

‘Pete, Pete,’ she moaned, ‘quickly, get in quickly.’ Her hands reached down and ripped at his shirt, pulling it over his head, forcing his hands to break contact with her crotch and fumble to rid himself of his short.

Then she had him under his arm pits, hauling him up on top of her, her crotch searching out his cock. Then it was there, he was guiding it into her cunt, short but stubby, pushing her lips open and burrowing into her. Thrusting with short stabs that matched his gasps of breath. She responded, bucking against him, grinding into him, her legs flailing and her hands scratching at her nipples as her head rolled from side to side.

And then it burst, a giant shudder through her whole body as her legs wrapped round his waist, trapping him inside until he too came with a loud howl of pleasure.
 
Marcie sat back in her chair and turned her computer screen away. She was finding it hard to concentrate. She was annoyed. Annoyed with Tom for what he had done last night, which whatever Angela might say had not been part of some clever trap she had laid for him. Annoyed with Angela for the way she had taken advantage of her weakness. But most of all annoyed with herself. Her mistake hadn’t been to have a rape fantasy. There was nothing wrong with that. Lots of women had them; there were statistics to prove it. Her mistake hadn’t even been to allow the fantasy to spill over into her real life. No, the mistake had been to allow that bitch to realise it. That gave her a hold over Marcie, power and control. Things she did not like anyone else to have. Her husband had thought he had them, for a while, but she soon showed him who was in charge in their marriage. Until he finally plucked up the courage to leave her.

Stifling her frustration, Marcie turned back to the screen and its multi-coloured spreadsheet. There was no doubt about it. Certain boys were causing concern. Grades had fallen. Commitment had dropped off. Teachers had complained of their missing class or being too tired to concentrate. There was only one common factor. They were all on the project. No one else knew about that, of course, so no one would spot the pattern. The mothers were to blame; they were becoming unrealistic in the times they expected the boys to attend to them and too demanding in their requirements. They would have to be told to moderate their demands and keep to hours that did not interrupt studies.

Her thoughts were cut short by a sharp knock on the door, which opened before she had a chance to react. She knew who it would be; that knock and not waiting for an invitation were indicative of one teacher: Bethany Morris. A history teacher in her mid-50s who had been passed over for Principal when Marcie was appointed. She was highly respected by the pupils who trusted her and confided in her. But not by Marcie who resented her continual interference. As usual she sat down without being invited and came straight to the point.

‘Principal,’ she managed to inject a tone of contempt and resentment into the word, ‘I’ve been concerned about Tom Roberts. He’s not progressing with his extended essay and I’ve had a long chat to him. To cut a long story short, Principal, he’s told me what’s troubling him. I know about the project.’

She sat back and stared at Marcie.

The Principal was not in the mood to argue with her. Her bad day had just got worse. This was a problem that would have to be dealt with and just how to deal with it required some thought. Thought that would require time, time that she didn’t have right now. There was only one response she could give that would buy her time.

‘What do you want, Ms Morris?’ she asked with resignation.

The reply was short and clear: ‘Tom. I assume after last night you won’t be requiring his services anymore.’

Marcie nodded. ‘Shall I send him to your house after school?’ she asked.

Bethany nodded and left with a spring in her step. Tom was pleasant, obliging, and obedient. Just what she liked.

Tom was surprised to receive the note from the Principal which was handed to him by the maths teacher at the end of the class. The last thing he expected was a curt instruction to report to Ms Morris at her home at the address below.

Bethany answered her door almost immediately in response to Tom’s knock, stepping back for him to step into the hall. As she shut the door behind him, Tom turned towards her and his mouth fell open. This was Ms Morris, but not the Ms Morris he and his fellow pupils knew from school. She was wearing a tight white blouse open to reveal the swell of her breasts and a tight black leather skirt with a slit up her left thigh, reveal fishnet tights.

He was still staring when the sharp slap stung him cheek and left his head spinning.

‘Don’t stare,’ Bethany told him sternly, ‘it’s rude. I thought you had better manners that that. I’m already thinking I may have made a mistake in inviting you here.’

Tom mumbled an apology.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Morris, it’s just that you are so attractive. I never realised. Sorry. What do you want me to do?’

Had he made a major mistake by coming here, he wondered. Was this, perhaps, the Principal's revenge for what he'd done to her last night.
 
Angela clung to Pete with her arms, legs and cunt muscles. He lay atop her as their breathing steadied. As they relaxed, he looked up at her and asked a question.

‘Does you husband have a large cock, Mrs Roberts?’

Angela smiled. ‘Why are men always so interested in cock size?’ she asked.

‘It’s just,’ Pete replied slowly, ‘that Tom’s big; I’ve seen it in the showers. The other boys, well some of them, they’re quite envious. And I sort of wondered if he inherited it.’

‘Well,’ Angela told him, stroking her fingers through his short hair, ‘my husband’s isn’t very big at the moment. And I’ve not seen my son’s cock for a long time,’ she added hastily lest he get the impression that she knew about his current measurements. ‘Why do you want to know?’ she wonder aloud.

‘No reason,’ Pete replied as casually as he could, ‘only my dad’s cock is short but mum says it doesn’t mean mine will always be like that. She says it will grow as I get older.’

Angela held him close. ‘Size doesn’t matter,’ she reassured him, trying to sound sincere. ‘My husband couldn’t do what you just did, even when he was fully functioning. What matters is the pleasure and satisfaction you can give, Pete.’

He didn’t look convinced, but began to slide down her body, his tongue tracing the route between her breasts, down to her navel, over her belly and, as he sank off the bed, her crotch, where he began to trace the furls of her labia with the tip of his tongue. He looked up at Angela and smiled, his face covered in a mixture of her juices and his cum. She returned the smile and lay back as his tongue worked back and forth, slowly, rhythmically, lulling her as his touch had done earlier.

She had no idea how long he had been with her and no idea what the time was. John would be home soon, but she didn’t care. So what if he walked in on them. She’d just look at him over Pete’s head and watch the colour drain from his face as he saw the pleasure his wife was receiving, pleasure he couldn’t give her. Would he speak or would he just crawl away, wounded and humiliated? She didn’t care. Would she speak to him, calling out a word of apology or dismissal or contempt? She didn’t know. All she cared about was that Pete would not stop until she came again.

It was not long before she began to purr with pleasure as his tongue began to flirt with her clit. ‘Oh Pete,’ she murmured, ‘it was so good of the Principal to send you.’

Pete stopped and looked up in surprise. His lips would coated in white froth.

‘The Principal? No, Mrs Roberts, she didn’t send me. I’m nothing to do with the project. In fact,’ this might be a good moment to mention it, ‘I was kind of hoping you’d put in a word for me so that I’d be invited to join.’

It was at that moment that Angela heard the door shut and footsteps on the stairs. Someone had just come into the house and was coming upstairs.

Pete looked over his shoulder and back at Angela. His face a picture of panic.
 
Marcie sat back in her chair with a big smile on her face. She hadn’t realised it at the time, but looking back things had worked out perfectly. Bethany Morris, her sworn rival in the school, was now sucked into the project. She wouldn’t dare report what was going on, because she was now part of it. And Tom, that precious ass fucker, well he was going to be in for a surprise when he learned about Bethany’s fetish. She hadn’t planned it this way, but fate could not have worked out better for her. If only she could find some way of neutralising Angela, now that would be something.

And thinking of rolling around on Angela’s floor with her made her think of something else. She’s put Mike on hold for a while and Tom hadn’t worked out according to plan, which left her bereft of male company. Now who could she invite over?

***

Tom couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing. Ms Morris was always so modest and polite, but not here, not now. Not dressed in her tight fitting, body revealing outfit, the blouse unbuttoned, the skirt slit, the high heels, the fishnets. And her voice was stern and commanding. And that slap; she’d never have dared to hit a pupil at school, but she obviously thought she could treat Tom just as she liked. No doubt about who gave her the nod to abuse him. That could only have been Marcie, taking more revenge for last night, letting Bethany deliver the punishment for her. Typical.

‘Tom,’ Bethany’s sharp tone cut into his thoughts. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you?’

‘Sorry,’ Tom mumbled apologetically, ‘what was it again? Sorry.’

‘That’s better, Tom. You must be polite at all time and apologise for every mistake or failing.’

Tom nodded, which earned another slap and a sharp rebuke for treating Bethany contemptuously by not speaking.

‘What shall I do, Miss Morris?’ he asked as subserviently as he could.

‘How dare you speak to me without permission,’ she snapped back and another slap hit him across his nose.

Tom was unsure of what to do. If he spoke, he should have remained silent. If he remained silent, he should have spoken, Anything he did seemed to be wrong. Maybe that was it, he was always going to be in the wrong. He waited. Should he look at her? He wasn’t sure. If he did, he was sure that she would slap him and tell him to look down, and if he didn’t, she’s slap him and tell him to look at her. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t going to be as much fun as Marcie had been – had been at first anyway.

Suddenly he realised that she was speaking to him again.

‘I was saying, Tom, that you will follow me and then you will do exactly as I tell you. If you do not, you will be punished. And it is important to understand what I mean by punished. I have slapped you but that was not punishment, that was just to get your attention and make sure you were concentrating on me.’

She stepped towards Tom, reached down and grasped his balls, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. Then she set off at a smart pace up the stairs with Tom struggling to keep up in order to avoid any further pain. It was not until they entered a room at the end of the landing that she released him. Tom stared around him, although he knew he was risking punishment for doing so. The room was dark with just a single bulb for illumination. The walls were painted black, there was a table with straps in the centre and chains hung from the ceiling. To one side were shelves on which whips and handcuffs and chains lay neatly.

‘Now, Tom,’ Bethany explained with the perfect diction she used in the classroom., ‘I am going to punish you and then you will be allowed to do the same thing to me. we shall have a contest to see who can tolerate pain. The loser will have to pay a forfeit.’

Tom gulped. He wasn’t into pain and had no doubt who would be paying the forfeiture. The only question was: what would it be?
 
Angela sat up as the footsteps came slowly upstairs. They weren’t Tom’s; no, her son had a different tread. They were John’s; but would her husband come into her bedroom? Yes, her bedroom, not theirs, hers. That was how she thought of it now and with him sleeping in his den that it was it had become. And would she care if he did? How much worse could that make her position? Being found here with a school friend of their son was nothing compared to his failure as a husband and lover and the collapse of their marriage, not to mention the rape allegation against their son.

She reached out and drew Pete onto the bed and into her arms. Trying to comfort him with her contact and reassure him with her words.

‘Don’t worry, Pete, it’ll be OK. It’s only my husband and he won’t come in here.’

Pete was trembling in her arms, but she noticed that despite this his cock was stiff and swaying. She had noticed the same thing with Tom as he was growing up. If he got nervous, she’d see a bulge growing in his shorts, not that she ever mentioned it to him. It must be some sort of male response to fear; she’d noticed it with John too.

her hand stroked his back and gradually worked down over his hips and round to his cock. She could feel why he was concerned about inheriting a small one from his dad. He wasn’t very long, but it was stocky and stiff as a board. She pulled him round on top of her and rubbed his cock around her pussy, making him groan softly as the tender head rubbed across the stubble that was already breaking through. Then she eased him inside and the warmth and wetness soothed the irritation.

‘How does it feel,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘to be more of a man than my husband? He can’t do this for me. He can’t satisfy me like you can. He can’t fill my cunt like you do.’

She felt his cock twitch at the praise and the comparison with John.

‘Imagine if he were to come in here now,’ she continued, ‘you’d be able to look over your shoulder and tell him not to interrupt. He wouldn’t dare answer you back, because he would see how much you were controlling me as I rolled around in ecstasy under you. He’d watch you as you pumped me, thrusting deep into me, your cock squelching as my juices ran out.’

Pete’s hips began to buck and thrust in response to what she was saying.

‘Even if he doesn’t come in right away, he’ll hear me when I scream. He knows what I sound like when I scream, so do you. He won’t be able to miss it. He’ll know what’s going on. Will he come in to see what we are doing? Imagine you standing there with your cock coated in my juice and the last drip of your cum hanging off, waving in his face.’

Pete was working harder now, his breath coming faster, in great gulps as he strained to hang on until Angela had cum.

‘Talk to me,’ she commanded him, ‘talk dirty to me. Tell me your secret fantasies.’

They came out in gasps between thrusts.

‘My mother … fucking my mother … she catches me smelling her panties and lets me smell her cunt … I get aroused and she notices … she touches me and I reach out and start to undress her … I push her onto her back and she spreads her legs … I stand over you, my prick swaying, you shake your head afraid that I will tear you apart … I sink down on top of you and you scream as I force my prick into your pussy …’

Angela didn’t listen any more. His fantasy of his mother and his fantasy of her had merged into one. She had replaced his mother. He wasn’t fucking her any more, but his mother. And that thought tipped Angela over the edge. She began to imagine herself as a mother being fucked by her son. Imagining that this was Tom and not Pete inside her. They bucked and rocked together. Twice he fell off me and she had to pull him back on. Once they nearly slid off the bed. They were shouting at each other. Fuck. Shit. Cum. Lover. Mother. She forgot completely about John until she heard the front door slam. He had walked right past the bedroom door. He must have heard. But did he understand who was in here with her or did he believe it really was Tom?
 
Tom stripped at Bethany’s command and folded his clothes neatly in a corner. It wasn’t going to be a very equal contest if he was naked and she wasn’t, but he didn’t want to risk punishment by making the point. He needn’t have worried though, because she began to explain what would happen.

‘As you can see, Tom,’ she gestured around the room, ‘I have a variety of instruments for inflicting pain. I find it quite invigorating and I am sure you will come to see it the same way with a little experience. We won’t make things too complicated this time for you, so let’s stick to the cane. I’ll cane you first and then you can cane me. Each time harder than before until one person can’t take any more. Then the loser pays the forfeit.’

She stalked across the room on her heels and selected a cane of medium thickness and gave it some phantom strokes to get the feel.

‘No doubt you are thinking,’ she continued in the tone she used in class, ‘that I have an unfair advantage. Well, I don’t want to be accused of cheating, so I will remove my blouse and skirt.’

She was as good as her word, removing both and folding them neatly in a pile next to Tom’s. Since she was turned away from him, Tom took the chance to check her out. She was astonishing well preserved for her age, which he put at the mid 50s or so, probably a decade older than his mother. It looked she worked out, because her muscles were toned and her ass was high and tight. He guessed they would be using the cane on their buttocks, and hers were exposed either side of her high but panties that bunched up her flesh providing a tempting target. He couldn’t believe she was going to let him do his worst on her.

‘Now,’ she commanded, ‘I will go first to show you the technique. You will bend over the table and I will give you one stroke across your buttocks. No run up this first time, so it will come from a standing start.’

Tom eyed her biceps. Standing start, maybe, but he knew this was going to hurt. He frantically tried to think of how to respond. It would be best, he reasoned, if his buttocks absorbed the blow, so he needed to relax his muscles to cushion the stroke when it landed.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked with a tone that suggested it was coming whether he was ready or not.

She didn’t give him time to prepare himself, so she caught him unawares and less tense than he would have been otherwise. Still the cane cut him deep into his flesh, making him jump. He only just managed to stifle a scream. The immediate burn of the sting sooner faded leaving a throbbing ache. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because she immediately handed him the cane.

‘You’re turn,’ she told him, bending over the table.

Tom had only seconds to prepare for his first blow. He guessed that the effect would be cumulative, so the harder the hit her the better, although he knew this would invite retaliation. With his mind working faster than in any exam, he decided to home in on her most sensitive spot. With her bent forward, her pussy was outlined by the bulge of her panties. he took aim across the centre and put all his power into the stroke.

To his surprise, Bethany’s body jumped and she let out a howl, whether of pain or surprise he wasn’t sure. It took her some time before she stood upright. She was breathing hard and snatched the cane from him.

‘Right,’ she wheezed, ‘now let’s see how you can take it.’

He bent over and tried to keep his legs together so that his balls were not exposed. Bur she kicked his feet apart.

‘No, Tom, we have to have an even playing field. If you can attack my crotch, I must be able to attack yours. That’s only fair. We must equalise our different anatomies.’

Reluctantly, Tom spread his legs and the cane caught him between his balls, fortunately missing both. He jumped involuntarily and pretended to be more hurt than he was, acting like she had caught him a direct hit on his balls. he took his time to stand upright and turn round, to find her smiling broadly, no doubt believing that she had hurt him more than she had. He pretended to be in difficulties and decided to risk challenging her.

‘This isn’t fair, with respect, Miss. You’re still protected by your panties while I’m exposed completely.’

Surprisingly, no rebuke came. Instead, she calmly removed her panties and added them neatly to the pile. Tom stared in amazement at her crotch. Bald apart from only a thin landing strip, there was a protrusion at the top of her pussy that looked like a small cock. It must be her clit, but he had never heard of one that size. She must be deformed in some way. Unless she was really a man, but she had tits and there was no sign of any balls, so she had to be a woman.

‘Right,’ he told her, ‘it’s your turn, bend over and spread those thighs.’

Again to his surprise, she did as she was told. He moved round so that he could deliver a stroke between her legs from below, hoping to hit her clit. Strictly this wasn’t a blow on her buttocks, but then her last blow hadn’t been either. Eager to bring this contest to an end, he put all his power into the blow.

Her legs weren’t spread wide and the cane bushed against her thighs as it flashed upwards, cutting her dead centre.

‘Fuck, shit and fuck, oh shit.’ Bethany fell forward across the table and slid to the floor on her knees doubled over her crotch. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. Tom knew he had won.

‘So,’ he told her confidently, ‘it looks like you will have to pay a forfeit.’

Her response was to deliver a punch to his balls with her fist accelerating off the floor like it was heading for orbit. The impact threw him backwards onto his ass, leaving him rolling on the floor. She crawled over to him and asked in her prim polished school mam tones: ‘So what do you want me to do?’

Tom took his time to answer.
 
Angela waited for her husband’s return. Tom had crept in quietly and gone straight to his room without even calling out good night. Lying in the dark, she decided she had to confront her husband and not let this fester. She’d get herself a drink – she was going to need one – and wait for him downstairs.

Curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hands, she reflected on what had happened to her over the past few days. She’d become caught up in the project run by the Principal of her son’s school and been provided with a series of pupils to provide the service that her husband was no longer up to. In the course of that, she had had to cope with an infatuated pupil who could barely control himself long enough to satisfy her, she’d been raped and abused, she’d fought on the floor right here with the Principal and had her son accused of rape. Now her husband must have heard her fucking another pupil with a small cock but superb massage technique, so that he believed that she had been fucking their son, although it was in fact another pupil. Well since her son was convinced they had fucked she was the only person in the house who still clung to the belief that she had not.

She had no idea what to expect when she heard John’s key in the front door. She knew what she’d like. She wanted him to come through the door, jump on her, rip off her clothes and give her a good hard fucking. But that was, sadly, the last thing that was likely to happen. Much more likely was a flaming row with accusations about incest ending with arrangements for their separation and eventual divorce. She was about to call out softly to him when he pushed the door open. Seeing the drink in her hands, he asked: ‘Mind if I join you?’

Angela shook her head and waited for John to settle on the opposite end of the sofa. His eyes were roaming over her body and he seemed unsure of where to begin. He took a sip.

‘Look, Angie, I wanted to have a word, I’ve been meaning to for some time actually. Things aren’t good between us and I know it’s my fault.’

This was not the tone she had anticipated. She had expected him to storm around, ranting and raving.

‘I know I can’t satisfy you at the moment and that must be causing you … well, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, because I know how important the physical sides of things was for both of us.’

Angela felt the need to stop him beating himself up about this, because she was after all the one who was in the wrong. Her behaviour, she knew, was totally unacceptable by any moral standards.

‘John, it’s typical of you to be concerned about how I feel and, to be honest, you’re right. But I do understand that this is difficult for you too.’

He gave a weak smile.

‘Anyway, Angie, what I want to say is this. You need what I can’t provide, so I can’t object if you find it elsewhere.’

It came out in a sudden rush, so fast that Angela didn’t take it in at first. Before she could say anything, he was blundering on, his eyes down and staring into his glass.

‘It’s strange because it’s always been one of my fantasies you see, a secret one, I never dared tell you about. But I’d imagine coming home and finding you fucking some other guy and being really turned on, far more than with me, and I creep into the bedroom and see you both cavorting on the bed and you’d just ignore me. And that got me really excited, uncontrollable. Do you remember sometimes when I was like that. And now, now it may really happen.’

‘Are you saying,’ Angela asked tentatively, ‘that you might get so aroused seeing me fucking another man that you’d be able to fuck me yourself? Is that it? Are you suggesting a threesome?’

John hung his head.

‘Angie, I just want to be able to fuck you again. I’d do anything if I could do that.’

Angela put down her drink and moved along the sofa. Touching her husband gently on the thigh, she lent forward and whispered: ‘So would I, John, so would I.’

But at what price? He may suspect, even know, that I’m already fucking others. But he can’t know that they are our son’s fellow pupils. How humiliating would he find it to be a spectator in that kind of sport, especially if he can’t join in? How we he feel to know that that information was already public knowledge?

And how would she feel, it was bad enough acknowledging to Tom’s fellow pupils that she was a horny housewife who was so desperate she was letting them fuck her. Would she want her husband to see her spreading her legs for one of her son’s friends and responding to his ministrations perhaps with greater power than she had ever done for her husband.

This idea could turn out to be mutually humiliating for both of them. But if it worked, it was worth it. She was prepared to give anything a go, but how could she break to her husband what she had been doing?

'John,' she said, taking his glass and putting it aside, 'there's something I need to tell you, but only if you're really committed to this idea.'

'Anything,' he replied without hesitation, 'anything, I'll try anything at all.'

So Angela gave him a potted and very sanitised account of what she had been doing.
 
Tom sat down gingerly at the breakfast table. It was surprising how sore his ass was after only a few sharp blows from Bethany’s strong arms. And how tender his balls still were after that punch she delivered. It was his fault, he had to acknowledge. She had stipulated using the cane on buttocks only, but he had been so determined to get the upper hand that he had used it on her oversized clit, without giving her any warning. Her response was to deliver one almighty punch into his balls, which was as unexpected as he blow to her clit. But, to his surprise and relief, she had kept to her bargain. She couldn’t carry on and paid her forfeit.

It had taken Tom a while to decide what to do, but he had plenty of time as the pain of her punch cut deep into his belly, doubling him over every time he tried to get upright and making him choke every time he tried to speak. After all that pain, he wanted some pleasure and he didn’t feel up to giving her a hard fucking, so he made her suck him until he finally got hard, which seemed like forever although he felt that she was deliberately prolonging it, and then made her deep throat him until he blew. Her neck must have been aching after that, kneeling before him with her eyes fixed on his from under her lashes. He’d thought of pulling out at the last minute and spraying her face, but he’d lost control before he could manage to pull back.

As he walked slowly home, he’d wondered if she enjoyed losing as much as she enjoyed winning at her game, perhaps more so. And he had to admit that despite the stinging and the soreness, he was feeling some lingering pleasure from the experience, something he had never expected.

But as he sat opposite his mother, he felt that she was about to drop another bombshell, perhaps about the rape allegation that the Principal had made.

‘Tom,’ his mother began seriously, ‘I’ve got good news. Marcie isn’t going to pursue the rape charge against you. But please,’ she interrupted quickly as Tom’s face broke out in a big smile of relief, ‘let this be a warning to you about how you treat women.’

Tom nodded solemnly.

‘And there’s more good new,’ his mother added. ‘You are back on the project.’

‘Good, that’s good,’ Tom replied, not letting on that he had already discovered what that meant.

‘And so am I. Marcie sent Pete round to see me,’ she concluded.

Tom stared.

‘But, mom,’ Tom protested, ‘Pete isn’t on the project. If he came round, Marcie didn’t send him. She won’t let him take part for some reason. He must have been acting freelance.’

Angela stared in amazement. How could he have known about her, unless word had spread over the whole school. Now wasn’t the time to pursue that.

‘Whatever,’ she mumbled, ‘he was good. He should be on the project. But listen, Tom, there’s more news.’

Tom sensed that this might not be such good news.

‘I’ve had to tell your father what’s happening. Only an edited version,’ she added hastily, ‘and certainly no mention of you knowing or of your dream or of anything else.’ She looked at him meaningfully. ‘And I’m sure we both want to keep it that way.’

‘So how did he react?’ Tom asked.

‘Well, this is it,’ his mother continued, ‘he thinks that if he could watch me doing it, he might respond.’

‘You mean he’d get off seeing one of my friends fuck you?’

‘Yes, Tom, that’s it in a nutshell. It’s been a fantasy of his apparently, although your class mates didn’t figure in it. And I certainly remember the times when he said he was having that fantasy with me and his performance was, well, let’s say, spectacular. I remember being left sore for days after one fucking he gave me.’

Tom shifted in his seat at the mention of soreness.

‘But now I know that Marcie hasn’t restored me and that Pete was acting on his own initiative, how am I going to find someone else. I can hardly advertise. And I made it sound like I could summon someone more or less on demand.’

Tom nodded sympathetically.

‘And it’s got to be someone who won’t mind being watched. Not everyone is into that and not everyone can perform under those conditions.’

Tom nodded again.

‘So, Tom, do have any ideas?’

Tom thought for a few minutes and then had an idea.

‘Aaron would probably be up for it. He’s a footballer and always down the gym. Very proud of his body and likes showing off. I’ll put it to him.’
 
Angela was expecting Aaron to be muscle bound and arrogant, but she only half right. He was certainly muscle bound. The arms of his t-shirt were stretched to bursting by his biceps and it fitted his chest to tightly that she could follow every contour of his muscles. His thighs were so well developed that he had no option but to stand with his legs spread. Angela wondered how he didn’t crush his nuts when he crossed them. But his manner was completely unexpected.

‘Hello, Mrs Roberts,’ he smiled as she opened the door. ‘Tom suggested I come round. It’s a great privilege, it really is, I’ve heard so much about you.’

‘Really,’ Angela replied, ‘and what exactly have you heard?’

Aaron stood quietly as she closed the door and followed her into the living room.

‘I’ve heard that you are the most sexually arousing woman on the project, that you carry an aura of sensuality around you. How Tom is able to cope with living with you, I can’t imagine. I’d find it very difficult even if you were my mother.’

Angela smiled and didn’t follow this line of conversation.

‘Aaron, thank you so much for coming. I just want to be clear that you know what we asking you. We – my husband and I that is – because this request comes from both of us and we don’t want to do anything that is going to make you uncomfortable.’

‘I’ve got to admit, this isn’t something I’ve done before. But all of us on the project are committed to assisting the mothers as best we can and the best way is to get their husbands back to full function. So anything that will help with that, I’m willing to try.’

‘Thank you, Aaron, and we’re both grateful for that. But we don’t want to cause more problems, especially problems for you. A man’s …’ she struggled to find the right word, ‘strength, no potency, is a very delicate thing, as John has found out. If you were to find that you couldn’t perform with an audience, that would be entirely understandable. We would rather not put you into that position. It would cause you problems and be no help for us. Do you follow me?’

Aaron nodded.

‘Yes, of course, I understand. Obviously, I can’t promise because I’ve never done anything like this before, so it’s unknown territory for both of us. Tell me how you feel about the idea. About having me fuck you with your husband watching.’

Angela hadn’t thought of that. She had genuinely only thought about her husband, and of course her own relationship with him, and was willing to use Aaron to attain her objective.

‘Can I confide?’ she asked, leaning forward so that her husband wouldn’t hear if he was listening outside the door. ‘Tom has watched us sometimes. I’ve caught glimpses of his shadow by our bedroom door and I have to admit it did add a certain frisson to the experience for him. So I think that this may be a massive turn on, actually having him watch the whole thing.’

‘And you don’t think,’ Aaron probed, ‘that he might find that humiliating rather than arousing – seeing how much more excited you are with me than you are normally with him, I mean.’

No, Angela hadn’t thought of that and she didn’t want to spend the next hour undergoing some sort of psychotherapy.

‘Aaron,’ she stood up, ‘I’m more of a doer than a thinker, so I suggest we go upstairs and get started.’ She moved closer and rested her hand on the hard muscles of his chest. ‘I’m interested to see what you look like in the flesh.’

Aaron smiled and followed her upstairs.

Angela led him into the bedroom and left the door wide open. She didn’t know when John would appear and whether he would watch from the door or come right in and sit beside them. That was up to him; anything that worked, that was all Angela cared about.

As she turned to face Aaron, he slipped his hands behind her and unzipped her. She moved slightly back and let the dress fall to the carpet, where she kicked it aside with a flick of her foot. She was no in her favourite blue panties and bra and red heels. She slide her hands up under his t-shirt and pushed it over his head, revealing a perfect of muscles and an even tan. He worked on his appearance as much as on his strength. Her hands were pushing his jeans over his hips as his nimble fingers unfastened her bra; her panties and his jeans hit the floor at the same moment. She hooked one leg over his hip and he lifted her by her buttocks onto his cock. As she sank down its length, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around her neck.

Over Aaron’s shoulder, Angela caught sight of her husband standing in the doorway. She closed her eyes to shut out the sight, but whispered into Aaron’s ear: ‘He’s watching you.’ Aaron seemed to ignore her, as she lifted herself up and down his cock. ‘You’re so strong,’ she whispered, ‘so much stronger than any of the others.’ He adjusted his position slightly, planting his feet firmly about a foot apart and continuing to support her buttocks with his hands. ‘And you were hard so quickly. Is that because my husband is watching us?’ At last Aaron spoke: ‘No,’ he whispered back, ‘I’ve been hard ever since Tom told me you wanted me to fuck you.’ Angela hugged him tight and rode him a little faster. ‘Let me know if you get tired,’ she whispered, but Aaron showed no sign of tiring.

Angela began to swivel her hips as she rose and fell, her breasts rubbing against Aaron’s firm chest. ‘What did the other boys say about me?’ she asked in a normal tone so that John would be able to hear. When Aaron didn’t respond, she freed one hand and began to dig her nails into his nipples. He just smiled back; the pain didn’t seem to bother him. At last he replied in a tone loud enough to carry across the door. ‘They said you were desperate, more desperate than any of the other mothers. That you were always available. Sometimes they had to queue at the door. Your pussy was always dripping with other guys’ sperm.’ Were they really saying that, Angela wondered, or was this just Aaron playing a part for John. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him straining to hear.

‘And what else?’ she prompted. ‘They say you’ve got the hots for Tom and that you probably fuck like wild cats when your husband isn’t around.’ This was not something she wanted to hear, and it was definitely something she didn’t want John to hear. She dug her nails deep into Aaron’s nipple as a warning but he misread her signal as arousal. ‘They say you visit him in his room at night and then pretend that it was just a dream.’ Oh sweet fuck, what had Tom been repeating. ‘They say he’s a better fuck that his father ever was and that’s why he’s impotent, because he realises he can’t compete.’

Angela pulled Aaron’s neck towards her to whisper urgently that he must stop, but he spun her round so that her back was to her husband. Then his hands took a firm grip on her buttocks and he raised him until only the tip of his cock was still inside her, before lowering her slowly. He repeated this manoeuvre several times before releasing her at the top of the ride and letting her fall the full length of his shaft, only catching her at the last minute. And all the time his eyes were fixed over Angela’s shoulder. He was staring at John. Showing him his power. Demonstrating how much stronger he was. Angela shivered in response, knowing her husband could now see now long Aaron’s cock, see it as it rode in and out of her cunt, see her juices glistening on the shaft with her lubrication.

She knew the effect this was having on her, but what effect was it having on John? It was not what she had anticipated. She had wanted him to see her fucking and get aroused. She hadn’t expected Aaron to bring up Tom’s fantasies that he must have been sharing with his mates or to lay on a demonstration of how totally inadequate John was by comparison, even at the height of his powers. This could just make things worse.
 
Aaron had genuinely come to Angela in the spirit of helping her with her husband. He’d caught glimpses of her around the place, but never really got a good look or paid her much attention until she opened the door for him. He’d heard from the other guys about her, but never really understood how hot she was until he had her wrapped around him and felt the heat of her cunt. Steadily a new agenda formed in his mind as she climbed his cock and slid down again. He wanted to keep her for himself. He would show her how much stronger he was, how much more control he had, over himself and over her. He would show her husband up for what he really was, pathetic, flabby and old. He understood what she really craved; he could feel her need for him in the grip of her thighs and the urgency of her nail digging into his flesh. Her desperation for sexual satisfaction was so strong it was no wonder she was fucking her son, if she really was, that is, and the story wasn’t just one of Tom’s fantasies.

He swung Angela round so that John would get a better view, see the length of his shaft and his wife’s cunt sliding up and down it. Let him hear the squelch of her juices as he burrowed deep inside her. He’d already stirred some dark ideas about Angela fucking with Tom; ideas that it wasn’t very difficult to pick from the way Tom talked about his mother. He was proud of her, that was natural enough, and wanted to help her, as any son would, but there was something more, something different that you didn’t hear from the other pupils. And that was lust. Lust for his mother and hints that it might just be requited.

‘Look at me,’ he was talking to John directly now. ‘Can you do this for her? Is your cock hard enough to balance her like this? Look at the way her cunt is devouring my cock. Come closer, get a good look. Smell her. Can you smell her form over there? Has she told you how many other guys have fucked her recently? None of them were as strong as I am. You’re just a pervert, that’s the truth isn’t it. Trying to get your pathetic little rocks off watching a real man working out on your wife’s pussy.’

And look at me, he might have added, talking to you and fucking her at the same time, not even slightly breathless.

‘She won’t be any use to you when I’ve finished; her cunt will be raw by then. Too sore to want you floppy little cock slopping around in my leavings.’

He lifted Angela up again by the buttocks and let her fall once more before arresting her descent and almost tossing her upwards again.

‘Maybe she’ll let you suck her cunt for her when I’ve finished. That’ll be all you’re good for, I expect. Let you taste my cum. Suck her clean for the next guy waiting in line for her.’

John had moved closer and stood with his eyes fixed on Aaron’s crotch, just at the point where his cock disappeared up his wife’s cunt.

‘What about fucking her ass for her while we get on with the real business.’ Still John did not meet his gaze. ‘Or aren’t you up to that either.’

John seemed to be hesitating, unsure of what to do or say, but finally he stepped forward, right up to the couple and began to stroke his wife’s buttocks. She shivered at his touch, thrilled that he was showing an interest, but praying that he would let Aaron finish. Despite his cool exterior she knew he was responding to the subtle movements of her hips and the clenching of her internal muscles. Despite his arrogance, she could feel him slowing surrendering his control to her. Aaron knew so too and was wondering how to end. Shoot deep into her, fill her with his load. That was the obvious possibility. Or should he pull her off so that he could spray John in his face as he watched? A physical demonstration of his loss of potency.
 
Angela couldn’t see John, but she felt that she could read his feelings through his touch. His warm hands were caressing her buttocks and stroking her back, trying but failing to get to her breasts that were pressed against Aaron’s chest. This was not the touch that she knew. Her husband was always in control and somewhat controlling in bed, confident of his masculinity and proud of his ability to satisfy his wife. But now his touch was hesitant, almost as if he were seeking her approval, just like their son Tom had done when he was a young child, touching his mother for comfort and reassurance. This was not caress of a lover, let alone one eager to take over from Aaron and satisfy his wife’s needs.

Angela was also well aware now of Aaron’s true ambition. He wanted to see off John as a potential rival and take Angela for himself. He was no longer playing the part of a young lover whose attentions would drive her husband to distraction. No, his aim was to humiliate John, to set a standard that no one who was not in the peak of physical condition and at the height of his developing sexual powers could hope to attain. Well, she would see him off if she had to. She was not some object to be fought over. And she knew that despite his arrogance, he was slowly surrendering to her control. His breathing was faster and deeper now, as she could tell from the movement of his chest against her breasts. And her years of experience at satisfying men gave the edge in the skills department, as she squeezed his cock and wiggled her hips back and forth, dragging his cock with them, twisting as she did so. She rose and descended along his shaft as if in corkscrew motion. Her awareness of her control over this stud added to her own arousal, lubricating her cunt as it rode faster and faster.

He could not last long, not without her help, and he was too proud to ask for that, especially with John’s hands almost rubbing against his balls. She felt him shift his weight and prepared herself for some unexpected move. Realising that her own firm grip with her arms and legs gave Aaron considerable freedom of manoeuvre, she loosen her hold on his neck and unhooked her ankles, making her more difficult to control and putting Aaron on edge. It would only take an unexpected shift of her weight to send her falling backwards and dragging Aaron’s cock with her, risking him unknown damage in the process. Now she could easily counter any action he might be planning.

Knowing now that Aaron wasn’t going to help John, she began to speak to her husband. ‘Do you know how many cocks I’ve had up my cunt in the past week, John? Up my ass too. I’ve been fucked in the living room, the spare and in here, in your own bed. You’ve slept in other’s guy’s cum. But they haven’t been able to satisfy me. And now this stud is about to lose control. He wouldn’t be able to satisfy me either. It’s going to be up to you, John. You’ll have to take over and show him what a real man can do.’

She doubted that that would happen. Not because she believed her husband would not be able to manage an erection, but because Aaron wouldn’t stay around to wait. She squeezed hard on his cock and swiveled furiously almost laughing in his face which was now bright red. His eyes were closing and his chest beginning to heave. ‘Bitch,’ he muttered, ‘fucking bitch, the other guys were right.’

‘Right about what?’ Angela gasped as he rode faster, ‘right about what, Aaron? About you not being the stud you claim to be?’

‘That you’re old and desperate and horny and that your cunt has worn loose with all the cocks you’ve had up it.’

Angela laughed out loud. Old, compared to the boys on the project she was. Desperate, no doubt about that. Horny, certainly. But loose, no definitely not loose and her tight grip on her cock should have told him that. But he had invited her response that inevitably came. ‘I’m not loose, Aaron, it’s you that’s small.’ She paused briefly to expand. ‘Have you ever taken the time out from admiring yourself to see how you measure up to the other guys. OK so you’ve got lots of muscles, but they’re not a substitute for what you lack, you know.’ She gripped him round the neck and used her weight to topple him backwards onto the bed. The shock of the landing caused Aaron to explode with a moan. Angela immediately rose, letting the dregs of his sperm drain onto his belly.

‘Get you stuff and get the fuck out,’ she ordered with what she hoped was convincing contempt. Then she turned to her husband.

Aaron grabbed his clothes and headed for the door, the last of his cum hanging from the tip of his cock.

‘Don’t worry, Angie,’ he threw his parting comment over his shoulder, ‘if John isn’t up to it, I’m sure Tom will oblige.’
 
John stared at his wife. She was lying on her back, with a sheen of sweat glistening over the face and tits, her legs were spread wide and there were blobs of Aaron’s cum on his belly. She was ordering him to get his kit off and get stuck in.

This was not how his fantasy had been. He always imagined it like when they had sex, with lots of stroking and kissing and fondling, followed by sensual massages and slow fucking, building slowly to a climax, ending with her begging him to take over and finish her because her lover lacked the skill to give her satisfaction. He had never imagined a gymnastic display. Nor had he imagined his wife being controlling and taking the lover like a wild animal devouring its prey. And he was in no doubt that that was what he had witnessed. Sure Aaron had begun all arrogant and showing off, but by the end he was unable to control himself. Whatever she was doing to him inside herself caused him to blow.

He was not sure what to make of Aaron’s comments about Tom. Was he hinting that Angela was fucking with their son? Or was he just trying to humiliate John? It did fit, though, with what he had heard through the bedroom door the previous day. Was that just his wife fantasising or was it real? He couldn’t be sure but he didn’t like the idea that his son might … Well that was not something he would ever allow himself to contemplate. His wife would never do such a thing. No mother would.

John had deliberately not allowed himself to think about what was happening to his crotch. He was vaguely aware of a tingling and some stiffening, but he hadn’t given any thought to how hard he was getting or whether it would be enough. He was sure that dwelling on it would be a mistake and counterproductive. That is what his doctor had advised anyway and the guy should know with all this medical training and experience.

He pulled off his shirt and pushed down his shorts. As he climbed onto the bed he glanced down and saw that his cock was pointing ahead, it had stiffened and lengthened somewhat, but no way was it as long or as hard as normal. Angela reached out for him and pulled her down on him.

‘My tits,’ she muttered more to herself than to him, ‘tits.’

Obediently John began to stroke his wife’s breasts, enjoying their softness and the way her nipples stiffened at his touch, reminding him, no not reminding him, he mustn’t let himself be reminded. Angela’s hand was on his balls now, cradling and squeezing gently. Moving upwards to his cock, pulling and twisting slightly, encouraging the slight stiffness to spread.

Suddenly he felt his cock grow, responding to her touch. Stiffening and lengthening until the skin was stretch so tightly across the head that it was painful. He pushed her legs apart, eager to penetrate her while he could. It would be easy with all those juices slushing around inside her.

‘Slowly,’ she whispered, ‘take it slowly, lover. Make it last.’

But John didn’t care about lasting. All he wanted was to get inside his wife for the first time in how many months was it now. He thrust himself deep into her and realising that the sudden contact with her vagina was too much, hastily withdrew just in time for a small squirt of cum to spray out onto her belly.

‘Shit,’ he cursed, ‘shit, shit, shit,’ and buried his face between Angela’s breasts. Over his shoulder, she saw Tom watching from the door way.
 
Angela lay there, her husband in her arms, her son watching from the doorway, feeling wretched and miserable. She wasn’t sexually satisfied, but what could she do? Certainly not call on her son to finish her off, not in front of his father, not even if they were alone. No, her priority had to be John, her husband, not herself.

‘Well done,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘that was so good, you must feel so proud that you could do that.’

He raised his head and looked at her sceptically. His eyes gave her his answer: ‘you’re kind, luv, but that isn’t true.’

‘You mustn’t expect to recover completely all at once. This was a start and a good start. You’ll soon be back to your old self again, just you see.’

John shook his head and put his face back between her breasts. He pushed his hands under her buttocks and kneaded gently before beginning to lick and suck at her nipples. Over his shoulder Angela could see their son watching. Was she imagining it or was that a bulge in his shorts? What was getting him off, she wondered, was it his father’s humiliation or his desire for his mother? She closed her eyes to blot out the image, but her mind couldn’t blot out the thought. Meanwhile John was still working steadily at her tits, licking them all over, tasting her sweat. Did he realise that he was tasting Aaron’s sweat too? His nails dug into her buttocks, as his fingers worked towards her crack. He slid slowly off the bottom of the bed, his tongue trailing down her belly until it reached her slit. The tips of his fingers rimmed her asshole now. Simultaneously, he forced his finger up her ass and bit hard on her clit.

Angela cried out and opened her to see Tom with his shorts around his ankles and his cock in his hand, rubbing furiously. She closed her eyes again and lay back, her teeth biting her lower lip, as her hands moved up to her breasts, rolling them gently, feeling the nipples tingle as they brushed across her palms. John’s fingers were now working on her ass, digging deep, as his tongue lapped at her swollen labia. Did he know he was drinking her lover’s cum as well as his own? His eyes were looking up at her, watching as she worked her breasts harder. Together they established a rhythm, fingers fucking her ass, his mouth fucking her crotch, her hands fucking her tits. Her breathing came faster and faster. She looped her legs around his neck, pulling him tighter against her.

‘John, please, please, John, don’t stop. Fuck me, fuck your whore. I deserve to be fucked hard, harder.’

She scrapped her nails down her breasts, tearing at her flesh and pulled herself up to grab her husband’s hair. In the distance, her son’s eyes were closed and a long drip hung from the tip of his cock.
 
Tom crept away, leaving his father lying between his mother’s legs with her hands resting on his head. His cock was waving in front of him, a long strand of sperm hanging from the tip. He needed just a few more strokes to finish himself off, but he couldn’t. Somehow, it felt disloyal. He lay on his bed and tried to understand why he felt like this. He had often spied on his parents fucking. Once or twice they had been so carried away that he was able to stand in their doorway as they had tonight and wank himself off at the sight of them coupling. But not tonight.

Slowly as the night wore on he came to understand. He’d seen his mother being raped by Terrell and his friend, and he’d managed to catch glimpses of Aaron’s athletic performance once his father had entered the bedroom to join in. That was sex, but what he had witnessed just now hadn’t been sex, at least not very good sex. His father hadn’t been able to stay hard very long and his mother had only orgasmed when he ate her pussy. But it wasn’t very intense and he puzzled over what her expression had meant. She stared at him but not with reproach for him intruding on such a private moment. No she seemed to be sending him a silent message. But what was it? She wasn’t satisfied, he was sure of that. But she had been happier after his father’s pathetic effort than he had seen her after any of the boys on the project had serviced her. It was about 3 am when he finally understood. She could only be satisfied, properly satisfied, by someone who loved her and whom she loved, not by some stranger however technically superior he might be.

But his father wasn’t up to it and that left only one person: him. He loved his mother and she loved him. Only he would be able to provide her with the deep satisfaction that she desired. She had known it all along. That was why she had come to his room the other night. That was why she had let him attend to her in the bathroom after they had thrown out Terrell. That was what her look had meant. It was a plea to him.

He threw back the sheet and slipped quietly out of his room. He paused outside his father’s den and heard snoring. Tiptoeing along he came to his mother’s room. That’s how he thought of it now, his mother’s room, not his parents’ room. In the moonlight, he could see her hair on the pillow and the contours of her body through the sheet. He moved into the room and turned the bolt.

‘Mom,’ he whispered as he climbed into the bed beside her, ‘it’s me. I understand. I’m here.’
 
Angela stirred as Tom slipped into bed with her. Feeling a body behind her, she instinctively reached back and stroked his leg, purring at the feel of the firm flesh. He pulled her towards him and she felt the rod of his erection against her back. She purred and twisted her head to kiss him.

‘John,’ she purred softly.

‘No, mom,’ Tom whispered back, ‘it’s me, Tom.’

Angela shot up in the bed and pulled at the sheet to cover her chest.

‘Tom,’ she stammered, ‘w-w-hat are you d-d-doing here? Go back to your own room, quickly, before your father finds you here.’

‘He won’t be coming,’ Tom reassured her. ‘He’s snoring his head off and anyway I’ve bolted the door.’

Angela stared at her son in the moonlight, at his eager face, his body leaning towards her, his cock pointing at the ceiling.

‘Tom,’ she tried to keep her voice firm and level, ‘you’re having one of your dreams again. Yu need to go back to your room, right now, please do as I say, quickly. We can talk about this in the morning,’ she added hastily when he made no move to leave.

‘Mom,’ Tom insisted, ‘you don’t need to worry any more. I understand. The other boys aren’t giving you want you want and dad can’t either. You need someone who loves you; that’s the only way you’ll get properly satisfied again. And I love you, mom. I’m the one who can give you what you need.’

Angela tugged furiously at the sheet, freeing it and wrapping it around, more for protection than warmth.

‘Tom, Tom, you are so kind and thoughtful. And of course you love me, just as I love you. But that’s not the sort of love I need. I need the love that John and I have for each other.’

But Tom persisted, kneeling in front of his mother, his cock swaying between them. He grabbed her by her shoulders to try to convey the intensity of what he was saying.

‘Mom, I may be young, but I understand a lot, probably a lot more than you think. You know how I feel about you and you can’t pretend any longer that you don’t feel the same. I know the other night wasn’t a dream and what happened after Terrell was here certainly wasn’t.’

He took a firm hold on the sheet and pulled it away, leaving his mother’s body exposed in the moonlight. She instinctively put up a hand to cover her breasts while the other dropped to her crotch. When Tom reached out to try to move her hands away, she shuddered and cringed back, but he moved across the bed after her. He grasped her hands and pulled them away, exposing his mother’s naked body again.

‘Please, Tom, please, no.’ Angela’s voice was quavering and her body beginning to shake.

He pushed her down onto the bed and climbed astride her thighs.

‘Let me help you, mom. You know I won’t hurt you.’

‘No, Tom, no, this is wrong, you know that as well as I do. If you won’t go back to your room, I’ll call for your father. He’ll break the door down if he has to.’

Tom hesitated for barely a second, then his hand shot over his mother’s mouth.

‘No, mom, don’t do that. He’s no use to you, no use at all.’

As her son pushed himself between her thighs, Angela remembered Marcie’s accusation against Tom. She said he had raped her. At the time, Angela had thought that this was just the Principal’s way of taking revenge on Angela, but now she was not so sure.

With Tom’s hand over her mouth, she now had one arm free. Before he could react, she reached down and took a firm grip on his balls, hoping the sudden sharp pain would bring him to his senses.
 
Tom flinched at his mother’s grip on his balls and he felt his erection sag slightly, but he kept his hand over her mouth.

‘No, mom, no, you know you won’t really hurt me. This isn’t like it was with Terrell.’

But her grip tightened.

Keeping one hand over her mouth, he tried to pull her hand off his balls. But she just gripped harder.

‘No, mom, no,’ he gasped, ‘I won’t be able to fuck you if you do this.’

His mother shook her head, trying to shake off his hand and finally managed to get her mouth open enough to bite hard into his flesh.

Tom abandoned the attempt to free his balls but dared not pull his hand free of his mother’s mouth for fear of allowing her to scream. His cock was sagging badly now.

She used her free hand to get hold of his hair and tug hard, trying as she did so to wriggle out from under him. The intensifying pain reminded him of Bethany. Suddenly he remembered his mother’s power when she had been raped by Terrell. He’d thought she was protecting him, but the glint in her eyes told him that she was enjoying the pain she was inflicting on him. Was she secretly like Bethany and getting off on the pain she was causing him? Did she do this sort of thing to his father? Was that why he was now impotent?

Slowly his mother emerged from beneath him, pulling her legs up under her as she dug her teeth into his hand and her nails into his balls. He tried gripping her hair to pull her head back, but she just bit harder. He tried pulling her hand free of his crotch, but she twisted and pulled. His erection completely gone. Surely she must know, but she kept hurting him. Finally he did the only thing he could do: he begged.

‘Please, mom, don’t hurt me any more. Please. Let’s stop this.’

Had he touched her maternal, protective instinctive or did the soft cock flopping against her hand persuade her that she was safe? Whatever the reason, she slowly relaxed her grip. She was leaning over him now, her tits dangling over his chest. Her beautiful tits.

‘Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you any harm. I was just trying to help you. That’s all.’

Finally she opened her mouth and freed her hand. There was blood on her chin, that she wiped away with the hand that had taken hold of his balls.

She stared at her hand and then at her son lying on the bed. Suddenly she began to shake violently. Tom reached out, but she pushed his hands away. Then in a frantic frenzy, she began hitting out at him, beating him about the head. He tried to fend her off, but she climbed astride him and pummeled his chest with her fists. He brought his arms up to try to protect himself, but to no available. It was only after several minutes that her rage subsided and she sank back on his thighs.

For a while they stared at each other and then they both looked down at the sight of Tom’s cock, slowly stiffening across his belly.
 
No one looked at anyone else at breakfast next morning. John kept his head down, and communicated only in grunts as he nibbled some toast. Tom seemed to stare into the middle distance as he sipped his orange juice. Angela didn’t mind. Her mind had been in too much of a whirl since her son had left her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. As soon as they were gone, she rang to book an appointment with her doctor.

She was sitting outside in her car well before the appointment time, waiting until the last minute before rushing in and announcing herself to the receptionist. She was shown straight into the consulting room and dropped with a sigh of relief into a chair. It took only a gentle prompt from Dr Paula Ginsberg for her to pour out her story: her husband’s impotence, her own adventures with the boys on the project, her son’s involvement, her rape and humiliation, her encounter with the Principal, the attempt to use voyeurism to cure the impotence, her son’s fascination with her. She stared at the wall, embarrassed to catch the doctor’s eye, conscious only of the click of keys as she typed what Angela was telling her. Finished, she sank into the chair feeling as if she had somehow purged herself of her feelings.

‘And am I right,’ Paula asked at last, ‘that despite your, er, adventures you still do not feel sexually satisfied, in the way your husband used to satisfy you?’

Angela thought about the question. There were several layers there.

‘No, I’m not satisfied, not at all. It’s so bad that I could scream sometimes, just from sheer desperation for a good fuck and frustration at not getting it. I wake in the night and find myself clawing at my cunt.’ She paused. Should she say words like fuck and cunt to the doctor? Shouldn’t she be more clinical? She tried to moderate her language. ‘But the sex has been better than anything I ever experienced with John. Thinking about it, doctor, this has made me realise that perhaps I was maybe too readily satisfied by my husband. It’s only now that I’ve had my eyes opened as it were. Only now I realise what is possible. All I know is that I’m not getting it.’

The doctor made an entry on her computer and then leant back in her chair. She was silent for a few moments, before speaking.

‘Angela, first of all you need to know that there is no magic pill I can give you to sort out the feelings you have. This is something that you have to work through. I’ll try to help, but ultimately you must find your own solution.’

Angela’s heart sank. She just wanted someone to take this burden off her.

‘And,’ the doctor pressed on, ‘in order to do that, to find a solution, you have to understand that you are not in any way abnormal. A woman reaches her sexual peak long after a man does, in her early to mid-30s, some a bit older. By that time, the men in their lives are settling into a busy life of family and work, with less energy and, although they won’t admit it, less virility than they had in their early 20s. With the result that a lot of us are left feeling frustrated, as you have so powerfully described.’

‘A lot of us?’ Had Angela heard that right? ‘Are you saying that my friends may be feeling just like me? They never show any sign.’

‘That’s right. It’s quite common. I hear so many women in their 30s and 40s reporting very similar feelings to you. But it’s embarrassing to talk about. I’ll be honest with you, Angela,’ the doctor leaned across her desk, ‘even I couldn’t talk about it to anyone else. You’d think a doctor would be able to do that, but I couldn’t. It was just too personal. Even my husband didn’t know. I just had to work through it on my own. There are lots of women out there who have to do the same. They’re too embarrassed even to go to a doctor. In fact,’ she added hesitantly, ‘you’re the only person I’ve ever told.’

Angela felt flattered to be taken into her doctor’s confidence in such a personal way. Unless, maybe this was just the doctor’s way of trying to establish a connection with her patient. But Angela had no time to work this out; Paula was still talking.

‘I’d like you to think about some thoughts that occurred to me as you were talking. Like I said, it’s up to you to find a solution, not for me to impose one.’

Angela was eager for any suggestions.

‘Go on,’ she prompted, ‘what did you think about when I was telling my story?’

Paula smiled and leaned forward across her desk. Her white coat billowed slightly exposing the bulge of her breasts.

‘It struck me when you described your encounter with the Principal of your son’s school that you may have enjoyed wrestling with her. That could be something worth exploring at a later appointment. Had you thought of that?’

Angela shook her head.

‘No way. I’ve never even had a fantasy about being gay. I didn’t even get involved in my teens when my girlfriends were all exploring and playing with each other. It’s never been of any interest to me. And as for sex with Marcie, have you ever seen her? The boys call her the Giant Whale or something like that. The idea is repulsive. NO, there’s nothing worth exploring there.’

By the end, she was almost shouting. The doctor didn’t flinch in face of this verbal onslaught.

‘What an interesting reaction. Rather too insistent perhaps. And I saw what you didn’t see – the way your face lit up when you described what happened. It was also the only time, let me just check if this is right,’ she scrolled back through her records, ‘yes, it was one of the only times you went into much detail. With almost all the other encounters you were a bit vague, but you were very explicit about Marcie.’

‘I certainly was not,’ Angela protested volubly.

Paula sat upright and turned her screen so that Angela could read what she had typed. Together the two women leaned forward, their heads almost touching as the doctor pointed to entries.

‘You did. See, you described how you stripped her. You first, remember, not Marcie. You told me how it felt when her crotch was rubbing against your leg, and how you felt with your pussy against her flesh. You described her reaction. You talked about the power that you felt when you were able to subdue her.’

Paula turned towards Angela, their faces only inches apart. Angela couldn’t deny that that was what she had said and, no, the doctor was right, she hadn’t talked about anything else in such detail, apart from having her pubes ripped off by Terrell.

With Angela calmer now and more thoughtful, Paula brought up another topic. The two women were still face to face across the desk.

‘There’s also your relationship with your son. It is very close, which is entirely natural. And he has a crush on you, which is not unusual, especially as he has a mother who exudes sexuality in her dress and manner.’

Angela made to protest, but the doctor put a hand on her arm to stop her.

‘No, Angela, it’s no use protesting. I am aware of that aura, because I can feel it for myself. And I can see how you are dressed. The way your blouse is open.’ Her eyes dropped. ‘I can see the lace and shape of your bra through the material. And from the way your buttocks moved as you walked in, I know you’re wearing a thong or a string.’ Her eyes rose to meet Angela’s. ‘Your son’ll have seen your underwear lying around; he may even have caught glimpses of you as you were dressing and coming out of the shower. He’s at an important stage in his sexual development and he has you so close to him, how else can you expect him to react?’

‘It’s worse than I told you,’ Angela admitted. ‘He believes that we’ve actually had sex. I’ve told him that he must never confuse reality with dreams and fantasies. I’ve begged him never to mention it to anyone, but somehow that Principal has got the idea that we are actually fucking.’

The last word burst out, but still the doctor didn’t flinch. Her hand was still resting on Angela’s arm.

An idea came into Angela’s mind. What solution had the doctor found to this problem? Dare she ask or was that too personal in what was, after all, a professional consultation? She didn’t have time to finish her thinking, because the doctor was continuing to talk.

‘We need to make a start somewhere. Let’s leave your son to one side for the moment. I do urge you not to dismiss the idea that you were aroused by wrestling with Marcie ideas out of hand. Promise me you’ll go over in your mind what took place. Even if the idea of close contact with someone like Marcie turns you off, there are other women whom you may find more to your liking.’

As so often, Angela spoke spontaneously without thinking what she was saying or why.

‘Do you need to examine me?’

The doctor smiled.

‘I didn’t think that that would be helpful, but if as my patient you feel that you could benefit I will of course give you a full physical examination. Why don’t you step over to the couch and undress?’

‘Do you want me to strip,’ Angela asked.

‘Just take off your skirt and blouse,’ Paula replied. ‘That will be enough, for a start.’
 
Marcie’s wrists and ankles were tied to the ropes stretched across the school’s gymnasium. She shivered as the boys from the project circled around her, poking, probing and prodding. Wayne was kneading her buttocks, while Tom was pushing his fist up her ass. Pete was knocking her tits and making them swing back and forth, while Terrell knelt before her, his teeth gnawing at her pussy. Bethany was walking back and forth in front of her cracking a short whip, her body clad in figure-hugging leather trousers and jacket. And around them, clustering as close as they could get, were the rest of the school, some climbing up the wall bars for a better view. The moms were there too, pulling and swinging from the ropes to which Marcie was tied.

The project had collapsed, blown apart by Angela who had reported to the authorities the activities that had gone on, accusing the Principal of abuse of power and false allegations of sexual assault. Husbands and fathers who believed that their sexual problems were a private matter between themselves and their tolerant wives now discovered that, far from being private, their difficulties were the talk of the school, and that, far from being tolerant, their wives were being serviced by the sons of their friends. In one case, by her daughter’s boyfriend.

TV crews were camped outside the school in such numbers that the authorities were unable to enter to talk to Marcie. The boys and moms had taken the chance to exact their revenge, led on by a jubilant Bethany who saw herself as the natural successor as Principal, the woman to save the school and reestablish its reputation.

Marcie stared around, her eyes wide with fear, as the boys pushed closer, hands exploring every nook and crevice of her body. Some of the boys had got their cocks out and were wanking off, spraying her with their cum. Others were rubbing it over her. While behind her, Tom’s cock was now brushing along her crack, teasing at her asshole, ready to thrust inside her when she was least prepared. The cheers of the watching boys echoed around the hall, all of them pleased and aroused at the humiliation of their Principal, the strict disciplinarian who had wielded power over them.

As Tom rammed his rigid cock up her ass, Marcie shot upright and screamed ‘NNNNOOOOOO’, her arms and legs flailing as she struggled to free herself from the sheet that was covering her, but it clung to her, stuck by the sweat that covered her body. She blinked in the sudden light and finally shook off the sheet. She stared around her bedroom and down at her fat, pale skin as it quivered. No, she remembered now, no, the project hadn’t collapsed. Everything was fine. Angela and Tom were neutralised by the threat of the rape allegation. Bethany had been drawn into the project and was as much at risk as Marcie. No, this was just a dream, that was all, a nightmare.

And she knew who had caused it. Angela. If she had never been allowed to join the project, everything would have been fine. But not anymore. Things were beginning to crumble, she realised that. And that brought the focus on what was most important: Marcie. She had to protect herself at all costs. And she had an idea about how to do that. She remembered the fight that she had had with Angela and the glint in Angela’s eyes as they rolled around on the floor of her house. She’d thought a lot about that and what it meant. And she recalled too how she had responded. She found that troubling at the time, but now she might just be able to use it to her advantage.

She picked up her phone and range Angela’s number, but was diverted immediately to voice mail. She left a message in the friendliest tone she could manage asking her to ring back to discuss matters to their mutual advantage.
 
Angela had always been proud of her body, never afraid of showing it off. She wore clothes that attracted attention when out by showing her body’s contours to their best advantage and didn’t mind when eyes followed her as she walked or workmen whistled as she passed. She wore underwear to show herself to her best and was happy to flaunt herself in front of her lovers. She didn’t mind standing naked in the changing room at the gym, conscious that women were eyeing her enviously or admiringly. But standing here, in the doctor’s consulting room, in her underwear, she had never felt so exposed.

It was the doctor’s gaze that was so unsettling. Professional, of course, but Angela felt that there was an additional intensity in her scrutiny this morning. Or was it just Angela’s reaction to the doctor. Their discussion had made her think about her experiences, which was just what the doctor had intended. But not perhaps in the way Angela’s mind was working. As Dr Paula Ginsberg walked around Angela, she watched the doctor, seeing her slender hips sway through the white coat she was wearing, watching how the hem of her panties was cutting into her flesh and distorting the way her buttocks moved.

‘You seem slightly breathless.’

The doctor’s question took her by surprise.

‘Sorry, I was distracted, what did you say?’

‘I said,’ Paula repeated, ‘that you seem slightly breathless. Are you feeling OK?’

Angela nodded, feeling that she would give away what she had been doing and thinking if she spoke. The doctor took out her stethoscope and approached, placing the cold circle of steel on Angela’s chest. She gasped slightly at the doctor’s scent.

‘Sorry,’ Paula said, ‘I should have warned you it would be cold.’ She moved around and listened from behind. ‘Yes, your respiratory rate is slightly elevated. No need to worry, patients often are concerned when they visit a doctor. It’s a recognised phenomenon.’ She took hold of Angela’s wrist and counted her pulse. ‘Yes, your heart rate is slightly faster than normal, but nothing to be concerned about.’ Angela barely took in what she was saying, her eyes for focused down the front of the doctor’s coat at the bulge of her small breasts. She caught herself licking her lips and abruptly brought her eyes up to the doctor’s face, but she was turning away.

She put her stethoscope onto her desk and walked back. ‘Right, let’s get this examination underway.’ She examined Angela’s left hand and arm carefully, her fingers testing each joint, moving slowly up towards her shoulder, then across to the right to repeat the same process. Reaching her shoulder, her hands felt along her collar bones and kneaded gently at her neck muscles. Involuntarily, Angela rested her head back against the doctor’s hand. The hand moved away and checked down her back, pressing each vertebra before passing on down to her hips.

‘Right,’ her professional tone again caught Angela dreaming, ‘lie on the couch please, face up.’

Angela’s feet and legs now received the same treatment. Soft but firm hands moved over her, checking each joint, feeling the contours of her muscles, eyes scoured her flesh for any blemish and defect. Angela watched her progress, savouring the touch and enjoying the view offered down the front of the doctor’s coat. Her bra was a sort of coral colour. Angela was just speculating that her panties probably matched when the doctor spoke again.

‘You seem perfectly healthy to me. Your body is in excellent condition; it would be a credit even for someone in their 20s. But, with your consent, I think it would be best to undertake a complete examination, just to be sure.’

Angela had no idea what she meant and didn’t really care. She was happy to do whatever she was told.

‘Right,’ the doctor’s voice was firm and commanding, ‘sit up and take your bra off.’

Angela did as she was told, releasing her breasts to let them swing freely. Paula took each one in turn, seeming to weight it in her palm before squeezing across the surface until she reached the nipple, which by then was stiff and prominent. Paula’s hair was close to Angela face as she bent to examine each breast carefully. She felt the doctor’s breath falling softly onto her skin and flowing over each breast as Paula held it in her hand. Did she imagine it or was the doctor’s respiratory rate, as she had called it, increasing. At last the doctor stood back. ‘Entirely satisfactory in all respects, just as I expected,’ she reported. Angela waited for what she knew would come next.

‘Now,’ the doctor’s voice was steady and firm, ‘let’s complete the examination. Remove your panties please.’ Angela obeyed, almost tossing the flimsy material away. The doctor bent over her and sighed. ‘Oh dear, you have been treated roughly haven’t you. That must have been very painful to have your pubic hair removed so violently. I am sure there is no lasting damage there. Your skin is healing nicely; I can put some cream on for you if you like.’ Angela nodded. ‘Will you grow your hairs again?’ Angela wanted to ask the doctor what she would do, but just shrugged. The doctor didn’t seem to notice as she gave her next instruction. ‘Open your thighs, wide please.’ She bent close then parted Angela’s labia with her fingers, moving them aside to reveal a red clitoris that tingled as it was exposed. The doctor’s breath seemed directed to its head in a long slow stream of warmth. Angela’s spine tingled to as the breath moved lower, between her lips and over the entrance to her vagina.

The doctor seemed to be waiting, her breath warm and under control, trickling over Angela’s clit and pussy. Finally she raised her eyes, looking between Angela’s breasts.

‘Please,’ Angela begged, ‘please don’t stop.’

The doctor stood up and stepped back.

‘Yes, as I thought, Mrs Roberts, you do indeed have lesbian tendencies. Your responses were entirely what I expected. Increased respiratory and pulse rates. Tactile reaction to contact. Sniffing at my scent. Looking at my buttocks and breasts. Desperate to take your feelings of attraction to the ultimate conclusion.’

Angela propped herself on her elbow and stared back. The words that formed on her lips were not ones to be used to a doctor. But Paula hadn’t finished.

‘That,’ she stated, ‘is as far as my professional relationship with a patient allows me to go.’

Angela swung her legs over the edge of the couch.

‘Well, fuck our professional relationship. There are plenty of doctors around here. Lock the door, get that coat off, and come fuck with me.’

The doctor walked to the door, turned the bolt, unbuttoned her coat and let it fall off her shoulders as she walked towards her examination couch.
 
Marcie repeatedly checked her phone for a reply from Angela but, being otherwise occupied at her doctor’s surgery she had not picked up the message from her voice mail. With growing frustration, Marcie put her head in her hands to devise another plan for getting her own back on Angela and within seconds an alternative strategy had come to mind. Calling up Tom’s school records, she phoned his father. He answered immediately, surprised and worried to be getting a call from his son’s school. He was even more surprised to hear the Principal ask him to come round immediately and to come straight to her office. He jumped into his car and rushed to the school.

He expected to arrive and hear of problems that his son had caused at school. Instead, to his amazement, he was invited into the Principal’s office, offered a cup of coffee and settled onto a sofa by her window. As he sipped his coffee, he got his first close look at Marcie. He had seen her in the distance at parents’ events and he had heard his son and his friends call her the Great White Whale. She was indeed a much larger model than Angela but she was smartly dressed in a two piece suit that showed her ample curves.

At first she spoke very vaguely, deliberately leaving him unsure of what she was getting at, telling about the project, portraying it as having the joint aims of helping mothers who were experiencing temporary interruption of normal sexual activity, as she put it, while giving the male pupils experience in developing mature relationships.

Slowly, as she paced back and forth, she gradually changed what she was saying. The focus was now more on him and his family. Suddenly, she stopped pacing and sat down beside him.

‘Mr Roberts, John, is it alright if I call you John?’

John nodded his agreement, taken aback by her sudden change of direction and tone.

‘Thank you, John, and I hope you’ll call be Marcie, because what I want to talk to you about is very personal, so I feel that first names are the best way forward.’

John nodded again and, putting his mug aside, twisted to face her.

‘John,’ she moved a little closer, ‘I want you to know first of all that I do understand from my personal experience the’ – she paused to find the right word – ‘the predicament that you’re facing. This project has always been about helping the family as a whole and not just the mother. We mature women understand that there are many pressures on a man and that these demands take their toll. So please believe me that, although I do not of course know the details, I do understand how you are feeling. If you want to share those feelings with me, please do. I’m afraid that I have been very remiss in leaving the fathers to sort out those problems while I have tried to help the mothers. I’d like to redress that oversight in the future.’

She leaned forward and fell silent. This was obviously the moment for John to speak, if he only he knew where to begin.

‘Marcie,’ he began without any clear understanding of how he could continue. ‘Marcie, you are so thoughtful. You are the only person who has asked me that. Even the doctor was just clinical and business like as though he was as embarrassed as I was.’ Again he paused, hoping Marcie would help him, but she just nodded and gazed softly at him. ‘Oh,’ John thumped his thigh in frustration, ‘I can’t tell you how it’s been for me. I was always able to match Angela’s demands, I think that was one of the things that first drew us together, because she is very demanding. But now I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t do anything. However much I want to, I just can’t. The more desperate I am, the worst it gets for me. It’s embarrassing. I look at people at work or in the street wondering what they would think of me if they knew. Would they shun me or laugh or tell everyone else? Marcie, I just don’t feel like a man any more.’

Marcie leaned forward, her arms resting on her thighs, the front of her jacket bulging open to reveal the mounds of her breasts. John’s eyes drifted down before he pulled himself together.

‘John,’ she rested a hand on his right knee, ‘I sense that you still have all those male instincts, those natural male instincts, that are somehow being blocked. We need to find a way to unblock them.’

As he smiled his appreciation, she pushed herself forward, causing her skirt to rise slightly to reveal the lace tops of her stockings. Again his eyes drifted down, only to be arrested immediately. Marcie’s other hand moved onto his left knee.

She could hardly believe how easy this was turning out to be. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes off her body and he hadn’t objected to her hands on his knees. But she needed to move cautiously. She wasn’t sure how much Angela or Tom had told him of her use of the pupils for her own pleasure. And she knew enough about impotence problems to realise that she must not put him under pressure.

She removed her hands and sat back, noting the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. Rising, she moved across to the door of her office, giving him the chance to savour the sight of her ass as she swung her hips slightly for his benefit. By the time she reached the door, two buttons on her jacket had become unfastened. She turned and spoke.

‘I hope you wouldn’t mind if I bolt this, John. I don’t want any interruptions as we are sharing our experiences.’

Returning to the sofa, she managed to fall back slightly into a corner, the jacket billowing open to reveal her ample bosom.

‘John,’ she began, avoiding his eyes so that he would not feel uncomfortable enjoying the view she was offering him. ‘I do understand, like I said, from my own experience with my former husband. When a man is unable to respond, his wife tends to avoid doing anything that might excite him. And that loss of intimacy only exaggerates his feeling of isolation, which of course leads to greater isolation for the woman.’

She adjusted her position slightly, pulling her legs onto the sofa, causing her skirt to rise once more up her thighs, her flesh now visible above her stockings. It was time to take a risk, a risk that might blow up in her face if he knew that she had been using favoured pupils to service her on the side.

‘John, I understand how isolated and deprived you feel, because that is how I felt when my husband had his problems, and how I have felt since we separated. I no longer feel attractive. It’s such a long time since a man has so much as touched me. Too long.’

She pushed herself upright, pushing her chest forward and making no attempt to adjust her jacket. This was the moment. She had taken the first step when she touched him. Now it was his turn. Would he respond? Was he, as she hoped, responding to her flagrant invitation?
 
As the doctor walked across the room towards her, unbuttoning her white coat as she came, Angela realised that she had no idea what to do. Leaving aside the tumble with Marcie on the floor on her living room, she had never had any sexual encounter with a woman. Her hopes that Paula would take the lead were instantly dashed. She simply stood before Angela, her coat open to give glimpses of a peach coloured satin bra and matching panties. Realising that she would have to make the first move at least, Angela pushed the coat over the doctor’s shoulders from where it slid to the floor, revealing a slim upper body with broad hips and strong thighs.

Men had always seemed to clumsy to Angela. Why was it that they could not manage even a simple task like unfastening a bra without fumbling. Now, as she reached behind Paula, she understood why that was. It wasn’t ineptitude or clumsiness. It was anticipation. She had never before undressed a woman. Never, to be honest, been interested in seeing another woman’s naked body, let alone in revealing one. She realised that she was holding her breath as she eased the bra free of Paula’s small breasts and watched them swing back and forth as her eyes followed the taut cherry red nipples. Slowly she stroked the doctor’s tits with the tips of her fingers, following their contours savouring the feel of her soft warm flesh. Paula’s warm breath trickled across the gap between them, the occasional gasps marking the points where Angela’s inexpert fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot. As Angela began to tweak Paula’s nipples and pinch them gently, she noticed that Paula was holding her breath, her eyes almost closed. Emboldened by her success, Angela pinched hard on the nipples, eliciting a low moan.

Already aroused by the doctor’s examination, Angela was eager to move quickly down her body to reveal what lay hidden by the silky material of the panties. Paula held her gaze as her hands moved down to her hips and, tucking themselves inside the panties, slowly guided them down her thighs. Angela sank to her haunches as she pushed the panties over Paula’s calves and over her feet. Her face was now facing her crotch, smooth and free from any hairs, her plump labia bulging invitingly. Angela lent forward and took her first sniff at another woman’s cunt. a strange smell, different from her own, musty but with a hint of perfume as if Paula had sprayed herself in anticipation of just such an encounter as this.

The tension was rising inside Angela. There would be time later for exploration and play, but right now she wanted to fuck, a good fast satisfying coupling that would leave them both lathered in sweat. But still Paula did not move. In the end, Angela spun her round and pushed her onto the examination couch, dropping to her knees between Paula’s legs. Running her fingers up her inner thighs, she parted Paula’s labia to reveal. In a moment of inspiration or desperation, Angela lent forward swiftly and sank her teeth into the small tight bud. Paula jerked in surprised and screamed.

‘Bitch, fucking bitch, stop teasing me and eat me out.’

With Paula’s legs now wrapped round her neck, Angela had no choice but to tuck in, nibbling, licking, sucking, probing, fighting for breath, as Paula pressed herself against Angela’s mouth, and rolled from side to side on the couch, moaning and crying out not to stop until she was finished.

Unsure of what to do, Angela began working her fingers into Paula’s buttocks and then into her crack. Paula began to buck and moan louder until Angela’s finger touched her ass hole.

‘Yeessss, yeeeeesssss,’ Paula’s cries must have been heard in the reception, ‘go, baby go.’

Angela accepted the invitation and buried her fingers as deep as they would go in one fast thrust. Before she knew what was happening, she and Paula were rolling on the floor grabbing at each other, kissing, scratching, biting, each fighting for control, neither willing to cede it to the other, their bodies entangled in one desperate rush to mutual satisfaction.
 
John watched Marcie as she walked slowly across towards the door, shot the bolt and returned, this time with her jacket falling open. She was so different from Angela. Was that what was attracting him to her or was it that she was sympathetic and understanding of how he felt? Or was it, as his dad had put it to him once, just a case of her being attractive because she was available? Yes, she was certainly available, he was sure of that, although knowing his ‘predicament’, as she had put it, why did she think that he would respond? The thing was that John was beginning to feel that he might, respond that is. He had felt a stirring when she had touched his leg and now here she was, leaning towards him on the sofa almost begging him to touch her in response.

Should he? Dare he? The last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself; he had had enough of that already. But inside, down in his crotch, something was making him feel hopefully.

He reached out tentatively and touched Marcie’s knee. She didn’t brush him away or look shocked or even surprised. He had read her right. She just smiled and waited. John’s hand moved higher, slowly approaching the bottom of her skirt that somehow had ridden up above the tops of her stockings. He felt his cock stiffen slightly. Not length, not yet, just that initial stiffening that announced itself, often unbidden, sometimes inconvenient, but always a welcome sign of his masculinity.

‘Marcie,’ he felt he had to say something, ‘I understand what you mean about not being touched. Angela doesn’t touch me any more. It’s like she’s afraid of me. But you’re right about needing to be touched. I just can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you. But,’ the thought suddenly occurred to him, ‘you’ve got all these pupils around. The ones who’ve been helping on the project. You could have had your pick.’

Marcie shuffled closer, her knee now touching his, her skirt rising higher to expose a broad patch of white thigh below the hem of her skirt.

‘John,’ she whispered as though she didn’t want anyone to hear, ‘you’re right, but they’re too young. What I need is a real man, a mature man, one who can knows how to really satisfy a woman.’

She leaned forward, her jacket falling open to give a view of her large tits bulging over the top of her dark red bra.

John nodded. His eyes dropping as often as he dared before rising to meet her steady gaze. His hands were on her flesh now and his slight stiffening was developing, pushing his cock upwards, struggling inside the folds of his shorts. He silently prayed that it would develop and not fade away as it had done so often recently with his wife.

As if she could read his mind, Marcie muttered: ‘Take it slowly, John. It has been a long time for me.’

Still she had not touched him, but she unfastened the rest of her buttons and shrugged the jacket off her shoulders.

‘It’s so hot in here,’ she remarked casually. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

John did not reply. He just stared at her, at the exposed flesh, at her tits bouncing from the sudden movement to dislodge her jacket, as the nipples that were pushing through the cotton of her bra. He licked his lips, daring himself to feel the weight of her breasts. His cock felt rigid now, but somehow not fully expanded.

Finally, Marcie responded, reaching forward to unbutton his shirt. And pushing it back off his shoulders, forcing him to release his grip on her thighs. He took the opportunity to take her breasts in his hands and feel their weight as she stroked his chest with her finger tips.

His cock felt fully erect now, straining inside his shorts. His hands tightened on her breasts, squeezing and kneading, but she showed no sign of reaction, just calmly continued working on his chest with her fingers. Pulling her towards him, John reached behind her to release her bra.

‘Shit,’ he gasped as her tits fell out and swung across her chest. ‘Shit, oh shit.’

He hadn’t seen naked tits like that since Tanya, his next door neighbour when he was at school, had flashed at him from her bedroom window in an invitation that he could not refuse. On the edge of his vision, he noticed the smile that flashed across Marcie’s face. She shuffled closer. They were now sitting side by side, their thighs pressed together, their bodies turned towards each other.

Suddenly, Marcie fell back onto the sofa, pulling John on top of her, dragging his head down between her breasts. He smelt her stale sweat, tasted the remains of her perfume that she had quickly applied before he arrived in an attempt to conceal it. He struggled round to lie between her legs, his mouth searching out her nipples, while one of his hands pushed her skirt up over her hips and the other pulled at his trousers and shorts, forcing them down over his now rigid cock.

‘Slowly, John,’ she pleaded urgently, ‘take it gently.’

But he wasn’t listening. His cock solid as a rock for the first time in months, he was in no mood to give it a chance to subside. Forcing her thighs apart, he pushed her panties aside and began rubbing the top of his cock against her lips, finding the flesh dry.

Marcie struggled desperately to move back, but John’s weight was too much for her.

‘Wait, John,’ she pleaded, ‘take it slowly, I’m not ready for this, please.’

But John was ready and determined that he would not give his hard on a chance to disappear before he had fucked her. Pressing his chest hard down on her, he lifted his hips and pushed hard, forcing himself in her cunt, an inch at a time, pushing harder each time, until his full shaft had sunk.

Unable to move under his weight, unable to push him off, Marcie could only plead.

‘No, not yet, take it slowly, please, John, please. Wait for a while until I’m ready.’

But John was no longer listening. Thrilled at his own newly recovered virility, determined to prove himself, he began to thrust, long slow thrusts, harder each time, faster too as Marcie’s juices began to flow, his breath coming faster until he was gulping in the air.

He pushed himself up on his arms, staring in triumph at Marcie’s tits as they shook and rolled around under the force of his fucking.

‘Yes,’ he cried, ‘yes, yes, yes.’

And then he came. One violent burst of cum, followed by another, another and another. Then those final gentler jerks as his balls drained and the collapsed on top of Marcie.

Marcie lay trapped, gazing at the ceiling of her office, unable to believe that she had now been raped by all three members of the same family. First by her pupil Tom, then by his mother Angela, and now by his father. Could things get any worse?
 
Angela was going to cum. There was no doubt about it. She knew it and Paula knew it. Twice she’d been on the brink, but just as she was on the point of begging Paula to finish her, the doctor had pulled back, cooling her off before slowly building towards another climax, just before which she retreated again. Angela didn’t know how much more she could take. She was trapped in the corner of the doctor’s consulting room, her legs trembling, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Paula was working her with a woman’s knowledge of where to touch and how to touch, coupled with a doctor’s knowledge of anatomy and nerve endings and erogenous zones. No one had ever touched Angela like this, not even Angela.

Two fingers of Paula’s left hand were up Angela’s ass while the thumb was resting at the top of her crack on the base of her spine. Two fingers of Paula’s right hand were up Angela’s cunt while the thumb was resting on her clit. Paula’s head was buried in Angela’s breasts, her left nipple held lightly between her teeth. She was barely moving, just occasionally pressing with a thumb or twisting her fingers or tightening the grip with her teeth. Small movements without any pattern that stopped as suddenly as they began, almost imperceptible. But each one sent further shivers over Angela’s flesh, shivers that sank into her, layer upon layer within her belly, along her spine, lurking on the edges of her mind. Building in intensity as the layers increased.

Angela’s body was tense in anticipation of what Paula would do and where. Her mind was alert so as not to miss the next sudden subtle movement. She was holding her breath, only releasing it in gasps when she needed air. She’d just taken a gulp when Paula’s momentum changed. The fingers up Angela’s ass spread and twisted, mirrored by the fingers in her cunt. At the same instant, Paula’s teeth sank deep into Angela’s nipple as she gasped aloud and grabbed Paula’s head, pulling her hard against her chest.

The fingers spread more, twisting faster each time, the thumbs just hovering at the base of Angela’s spine and over her clit, as Paula rolled her nipple between her teeth. Her knees were weak. She began to sink, but her gentle slide to the floor was arrested by the doctor’s strong hands. Supporting her and fucking her, leaving her hanging rather than standing. And barely hanging, as Paula had withdrawn all but the tips of her fingers. But as Angela felt about to fall, Paula began pumping, in and out, in and out, twisting as she moved her fingers, spreading them wider and wider. Was that three fingers inside her now? Angela couldn’t be sure. Had Paula inserted another finger or was it just an illusion created by her speed and the way she was spreading her fingers?

As suddenly as it began, all movement stopped. Angela’s sore nipple was left bathed in cooling soothing saliva as Paula’s turned her attention to its twin. Only Paula’s thumbs were moving now, each matching the other. Pressure slowly building on her clit matched by the pressure at the top of her crack. Then a nail scratching, digging deep into tender flesh. Then those fingers were moving again, faster this time, faster and faster, finger fucking, fucking her with her fingers. And each time as the fingers withdrew Angela felt herself falling to the floor, only to be held up again with a quick deep thrust. Another flash of pain as Paula’s teeth sank hard onto her right nipple; another gasp from Angela. Her fingers were pulling at Paula’s hair, pushing her face against her breast, hanging on for fear of falling. Fear of falling, fear of flying, fear of fucking. Fucking and fucking. Paula was in a rhythm now. Angela knew this would be the end. Whatever Paula did, whether she continued or not, whether she slowed down or not, no matter what, Angela was heading to climax. Those small ripples in her belly were growing now, like waves as the tide came in along a beach. The tingling creeping higher and higher up her spine.

Was that four fingers now? She couldn’t be sure. She’d not felt Paula insert another. Was this another illusion? Angela didn’t know and didn’t care. She was past caring, past the point of no return. Falling again, falling but not sliding, falling backwards, supported by an arm, guided back onto the examination couch, staring at the wall, her vision filled by the doctor’s head as now she began biting at her tits. No more fingers up her ass, no more ass fucking, only cunt fucking. The doctor’s free hand pushing her thighs wide, wider, like when she had given birth to Tom. Wide enough for her son’s head to emerge. Wide enough for the doctor’s hand to force itself inside her, spreading her open, seeming to tear her as it twisted. Fucking fist, fist fucking, fucking fucked of fucking. Those waves are now spasms, contractions as powerful as when she had given birth.

Angela’s body was out of control. Rocking across the couch, thrusting up against Paula’s thrusts, her belly gripped by spasms, fireworks shooting up her spine and exploding in her brain. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry out. All that came from her were animal noises, grunts and snorts and honks, her body’s primal response. She was no longer a woman, but an animal, an animal rutting and responding the only way it could to give vocal expression to the overwhelming sensations that were throbbing inside.

Slowly she settled, her body relaxing, her muscles easing, her breath steadying. She lay limp now on the couch. Paula’s left hand smoothed her hair while she slowly eased her fist out from Angela’s cunt, leaving a wet snail’s trail od slime along her thighs. Finally Angela opened her eyes to find Paula looking down at her.

‘Now, Mrs Roberts,’ she was using her professional tone, ‘now that you know what to do, it’s your turn to do it to me. Whenever you’re ready.’

Angela barely had the strength to sit up.
 
John slumped onto Marcie, his chest heaving with exhaustion from his unaccustomed activity and a broad grin on his face from his triumph at finally cumming after so long. Marcie lay trapped beneath him, furious at being treated as a sexual object by the third member of this family. She reconciled herself to her treatment with the thought that she could use all of this to extract revenge against bitch-on-heat Angela. But first there was something more pressing for her to do.

She had just experienced the most potent aphrodisiac that a woman can take. Power. She had managed to get this guy hard when his always-up-for-it wife Angela had failed. And that had made her horny as hell. And here was a guy lying on top of her, his soft cock now sliding out of her, leaving her as yet unsatisfied.

Marcie wriggled her arms under John’s shoulders and pushed him up sufficiently for her to squirm out from under his body.

‘Don’t go to sleep on me yet, lover,’ she ordered in the commanding tone that had both pupils and staff rushing to comply with whatever she wanted.

She rolled him onto his back and climbed astride his shoulders to lower her crotch over his face. As she did so, a glob of his sperm oozed out and slid down her thigh.

‘Tuck in, baby,’ she invited him, ‘mummy’s got plenty to eat and drink for you to help you get your strength back.’

John grinned at being called her lover, but baulked at the sight of her sodden cunt running with her juices mingled with copious amounts of his own sperm. But Marcie gave him no chance to reflect, sinking down to press her labia against his lips. He choked at first, gulping to avoid the taste, but was left with no choice as Marcie ground herself into his face.

With John sucking and licking, and Marcie grinding to rub her lips and clit against his teeth, it was not long before she felt the warm glow of an approaching orgasm. Her jacket was flying open as she began to swivel and grind. Soon she was too hot and had thrown it aside, followed swiftly by her bra, leaving her tits swaying back and forth. While John’s mouth continued to work her cunt, his eyes followed the arc of her tits first left, then right, then left again, their speed increasing with Marcie’s insistent rhythm. His hands were groping her ass as she clenched her thighs and began to moan softly. As the moans became groans, his fingers probed her crack. And as she finally came, his fingers were teasing the edge of her asshole.

Finally satisfied, Marcie slid down John’s body to lie against his chest, her tits crushed by her considerable weight. She wiped his face with her hand, brushing away the debris of their earlier fucking. And as she lay there, she felt something move. Something move and grow. Something move and grow and stiffen. She raised her head and looked at John.

‘Is that you, lover?’ she asked softly. ‘Are you getting hard again already?’

John nodded cautiously, seeming unable or unwilling to believe that this was happening. Marcie took advantage of the situation.

‘You’re obviously not impotent, John. Not if you can fuck me like you have and come back for more so soon. Maybe you were just bored with Angela. That could have been it, John.’ She rose on her elbows as if the thought had just occurred to her. ‘Men can get bored with women who only think of themselves and their needs without taking the time to think about or satisfy their man’s.’ His cock was poking her now and he was shifting his position to try to get inside her again. But she was just warming to her theme. ‘I’m not like that, John. I’ve always made sure I took account of my man’s needs. We’d be a good team, you and I.’ She shifted her position now, allowing the tip of his cock to probe between her legs. ‘We both have powerful needs and we need someone who can satisfy them.’ He had worked his way just inside the entrance to her cunt. She pushed herself up and back, sinking along the length of his shaft, gripping tight, dragging his skin back, savouring the long moan that burst from his throat and feeling her power as she clenched her muscles to hold him deep inside her. Her tits were swinging in front of his face and he lifted his head to snap at them, catching a nipple in a sharp bite. Marcie jerked at the sudden pain, swinging her hips to throw his cock from side to side. His hands were clenching her buttocks on, his fingers working into her crack.

Like father, like son, she thought. Both generations had a fetish about asses. Or about her ass. Should she tell him that his son had fucked her? Yes, she would, when the time was right. But now was not that time. He was bucking, trying to establish his control over her, but she used her weight to hold him down, determined that she would not be left unsatisfied again. This time she would be in control.

‘No,’ she soothed, ‘no, let me take the strain this time. You conserve your energy. You may need it later.’ John glowed at the compliment and focused his attention on her buttocks and tits. With his fingers buried deep in the flesh of her ass and his tongue and teeth working on her breasts, Marcie was soon riding and falling, rocking and rolling, crying out as her pleasure mounted. With her orgasm about to burst, she cried out.

‘Come on, lover, finish me, fuck me, fuck your whore.’

Together the rolled over so John could take control, teetering briefly onto the edge of the sofa until with a crash they fell to the floor, still linked, with John now on top humping and pumping frantically as Marcie screamed as she felt the hot jet of his sperm.

They lay still for a while, Marcie tying to keep his cock inside for as long as possible. When it finally slithered out, John climbed off and sank into the sofa and Marcie climbed beside him. Eventually he slipped into a gentle sleep with a sefl-satisfied grin on his face. Marcie was on the verge of nodding off when her phone began buzzing incessantly. She rose and walked over to her desk to see that it was Angela returning her earlier messages. She was about to pick up the call, when John’s hand closed over hers.

‘No,’ he whispered, ‘that can wait until later.’

He pushed her down onto her desk and she felt his cock, already stiff again, probing between her cheeks.

‘No,’ she tried to twist away, ‘no, John, not that, please, I don’t-‘

But it was too late. She was trapped and he was already pegging her ass.

For the second time in just a few days, Marcie gritted her teeth and fought back her years as she was ass raped over her desk. The first time it had been Angela’s son, Tom; this time it was by her husband. John. Marcie was going to make Angela pay for this. She didn’t know how, not yet, but her mind was already working.
 
The last few days had been confusing for Angela. Her husband, John, was avoiding her and hiding away in den, emerging only at mealtimes, when he ate swiftly with his head down. Her son, Tom, was the opposite, always trying to begin conversations about what had happened between them and taking every chance he could to rub against his mother and ignoring her attempts to rebuff him. And as for Angela herself, well, she was thoroughly confused. Marcie had left a flurry of voicemails but now would not pick up her calls. And every attempt to get in touch with Paula, her doctor was thwarted by her receptionist who said that, in the light of the last consultation, Angela should consult a different doctor in future. Were these just random happenings that were just symptoms of the way her life was imploding or were they all connected in some way? Still, she reflected as she set out from her home for the gym, things couldn’t get any worse. How wrong she was.

It happened as she passed along a quiet street. There were a few guys hanging about, like there always were, and some vehicles pulled up to the kerb. She was alongside a dirty white van, its back doors open and its engine idling, when the bag went over her head. Before she could react, she had been hoisted off her feet and tossed in the van. By the time she had pulled the bag off her head, the van was speeding away, with Angela being thrown back and forth as it swung round corners and bounced over potholes. After about a quarter of an hour, the van slowed and the noise of other traffic ceased as it manoeuvred slowly. Then all was silent and still. The van had stopped. Angela had prepared herself for this moment. Those guys would have to get at her and so long as she was in the van she had the advantage. As soon as the back doors were flung open, she lashed out with her feet, aiming to kick her attacks and then run. But dazzled by the sudden light, all she could see were vague shapes that stood aside as her legs flailed at empty air. Then, as if by some unspoken command, hands grabbed her ankles and heaved her out, before releasing her to land with a spine-jarring thud on the concrete of a yard.

She stared up to see four men looking down at her. She couldn’t see their faces, as they all wore balaclavas to disguise their identities. And she couldn’t tell their ages, although she sensed that they were young. Maybe no older than Tom, she thought. And that thought began to grow in her mind.

‘Well,’ the tallest of the men remarked, ‘we were warned she was a lively one. It looks like this could be fun.’

They all laughed, as two took hold of Angela’s ankles while the others grabbed her wrists and almost ran with her into a warehouse. Once inside, they tossed her onto a pile of sacking. By the time Angela had sat upright, the door had been shut and locked, the only light coming through some grimy windows high up under the roof.

The men formed a circle around her, looking down. She could sense their smirks under their masks. With her eyes level with their crotches, she didn’t need much imagination to work out what was in their minds. Again, it was the tallest of the men who spoke.

‘Looks like the lady is admiring our tackles, guys.’

They all laughed.

‘Let’s see what she’s like under her gym gear.’

His comment acted like a pre-arranged signal. The man moved as one, pushing Angela onto her stomach and pulling at her clothing. Her struggling barely hampered their progress is disrobing her. They had done this before, she thought. In only a few seconds, she was wearing only a red thong.

‘Red, my favourite colour.’ It was the shortest guy this time. He reached down and tore the fine material apart, leaving Angela naked. She tried to cover herself with her hands, but each time one of the men pulled them away. In the end, she abandoned any attempt at modest. After all, her body was nothing to be ashamed of. She knelt, her head high, trying not to shiver in the chill of the warehouse and the anticipation of what these guys had planned.

‘So, we’d better make a start. How long have we got?’ It was the third guy’s turn to speak in what sounded like a Chinese or Japanese accent.

‘No one is going to miss her until at least four,’ the tall guy replied. ‘That gives us,’ he consulted his watch, ‘almost five hours.’

‘Plenty of time,’ the short guy commented. ‘Which of us is going first?’

‘There’s no need to form a queue,’ this was the Chinese guy, ‘she can cope with all of us at once.’

Angela shuddered, waiting for the fourth guy to speak. He had stood slightly back from the others all the time, like he was detached from what was going on. The muscles stretched his white t-shirt that set off his dark, almost black, skin.

‘I don’t mind going first,’ his voice was deep but smooth like melting chocolate. The others stepped aside, as he stripped off his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt. Angela’s mouth fell open as he pushed his jeans down to his ankles, revealing a long thick snake that slowly swung from side to side as he moved towards her.

Only a few days ago, she would have almost drooled at the sight of this well-hung, muscular young man, but no more, not since her visit to the doctor had revealed her suppressed lesbian desires. Now she would only stare at the scattered curly hairs, the wrinkled skin of his scrotum and the purple flesh of his cock with revulsion. Instinctively, she pulled back and turned away. The man grabbed her hair with one hand and pulled her head towards as with the other he rubbed his cock across her lips, forcing it between her teeth.

Angela gagged and bite hard. The man howled and stepped back, staring down at the blood that was oozing from his cock.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom