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45. Penny And Rick Pt A free porn video
45. Penny and rick pt A
Introduction
My heroine is named Penny, she at the time was 45 ish, big breasted nice if a little plump figure, She stood about 5ft 8, ash blond shoulder length hair, and single, she shares a bungalow with her son Ricky near the coast of Kent, she lists her hobbies as, dog walking, and art being a good painter, and augmenting her income with her art sales. She had never been married; Ricky being the product of some faulty rubber-wear when she was in her 20`s during a drunken night out. She loved him dearly but
resented him losing her both her youth and her boyfriend at that time who she had hoped to marry.
Ricky was a strong lad, tall, a great swimmer as a k**, though shy, never one for the girls, (or the boys may it be said,) spends his time on the computer surfing the web for porn as we all did at that age and doing odd jobs for cash as well as a little poaching to keep them fed.
Since around his 14th birthday he had had a thing for his mother, partly I suspect as she was the only woman he came into contact with on a daily basis.
The bungalow they shared was shall we say a little off the road, and isolated, so contact with others was not as regular as in say a town or village. Which suited penny as she at one time advertised her services on a sex site, she had no trade to fall back on just her looks, and as a masochist she had fallen to taking money to keep them both. BDMS was the best payer so she had “visitors” who paid a lot to use her body in what had been the old wash-house, now she called it a play-room and as her customers tended to enjoy making her scream, she found they paid more if she was vocal though in a lot of cases it was genuine and here she was just far enough away from civilisation to not be heard.
From being a youngster the lad knew of his mothers trade (he could hardly miss it) she swore him to secrecy having told him it was games adults play and passed off the marks as part of the game though he didn’t understand it he just excepted it and took it everyone “played the games”.
She, fearing authority problems drilled it into him to say nothing to any-one and as he benefitted from the income as well he had learnt to answer the phone and to greet visitors leading them to the old wash-house to meet his mother on occasions. He had never been into the games room and was naturally curious.
From about the age of 10 he helped her to dab soothing balms on her back and backside after her “friends” had left, he suspected she had marks elsewhere but she never allowed him to see laying face down on her bed for him to do the necessary.
Till the lad was 14 it caused no problems, before that he had no computer so surfing the web was not a problem but Penny bought one for him for his birthday to do homework, from a lad at school he learnt of porn and where to find it, from then on he understood about the play room and looked at his mother in a vastly different way.
Of course over the years penny had a regular clientele 3 masters who each came back for more perhaps once every few month, she no longer advertised relying on she one or two trusted client nowadays so she had time to heal at least a little between bouts.
We take up the story just after the lad became aware of what the games had been about; he now was in awe of the way his mother had suffered to keep them both. They had not spoken of the trade, though in her heart she knew the time would come when she needed to face the subject.
1,
They were sat in front of the television rain having stopped his poaching activities, a little sideline that helped to feed them both. Some dreary film dragging its heels across the screen neither of them being very interested in the thing but there was little else on.
Penny sat on the sofa, stockinged legs curled under her, thin blouse buttoned to the high neck, a skirt of navy blue, flat sensible shoes, he in jeans and a tee shirt lounging over the armchair as youngsters do, his bored eyes slowly wandering to his mother, imagining her body under the blouse, wondering what her front he had never seen was really like. She became aware of his roaming eyes, quietly asking why he was looking at her in such a way.
He knew he was caught, turning a flush of pink, he stuttered that “he was just daydreaming.” Though his face belied that and she instantly knew that he was eyeing her in a sexual way and that perhaps she needed to ‘have that talk’ she had been putting off for so long.
She pushed the off button and the silence spread like a fog round the little room. He looked askance of her, knowing by her body language that she was about to broach a subject that he knew would be serious and perhaps embarrassing Haltingly she began to ask about school and did they teach sex education yet?
He smiled and said that “the school had done that at 12, he had absorbed all he could and had collected bits from other lads in the playground.” She looked very relieved, but it was short-lived when he said that “he had researched on his new computer, perhaps with a little bravado he then said that” he now knew what a woman looked like if that`s what she was asking?”
It was a subject which he had wanted to find a way of approaching for months now. though in some curious way he had avoided it in equal measures knowing it could have caused problems and problems he didn`t need with the mother he had so long desired, so he had avoided the subject most carefully, till now, feeling she may find the subject all just too difficult especially explaining the “games” in the old outhouse which he had never yet been allowed to enter in all the years he could remember. In some peculiar way he was glad to find the subject in the open this wet afternoon,
By now penny was red with embarrassment, her son, whom she had strived all this time to protect from the world of sex was explaining he knew enough of the subject of sex to understand it. She was shocked though she knew it was inevitable at some stage so regaining a little of her composure, she quietly probed him about if he had a girlfriend and had he put the great research into practise yet? To which he laughed; saying he was known as the ‘weirdo from the woods’, a name he didn’t disillusion any of the class from as it left him to poach in peace, none of the girls were really interested in him anyway, and though he had even tried bribery only one had even talked to him on the subject and that had come to nothing.
She gently asked about just what he knew which was she was relieved to find, quite a lot of the basics, however he did say he now knew “of her sacrifice in the outhouse”, using just those words, the dam of silence was broken forever words tumbling one after the other, from him, how he appreciated all she had done for him over the years, that he had had the best she could ever afford, and how she had done without a husband and so on.
The embarrassment factor loomed large, tears were forming as he gushed of his love for her as a mother, and that he hoped she would never be parted from her, that she was the only woman he ever wanted. She was flattered, embarrassed even, but she knew she had to explain her enjoyment of what happened out there to him and that it was not the great sacrifice he believed, she knew it was not to be easy. She raised her hand to him to stop his torrent of words, silence fell in the room as he took stock of what he had blurted out and she compose herself to speak, stopping him from another outburst.
“Look she said let`s get the whole matter out in the open once and for all shall we?” he nodded his agreement, then sat attentively as she carefully explained first about her supposed fiancé, the broken rubber, the gutlessly speedy retreat to America of the would be father, her broken heart, his very birth, and the love of the tiny c***d from that instant. Through tear filled eyes she told of her families attempts to have him adopted her family shunning her, her leaving home and the kindly squire allowing her to live in what then was a near hovel, rent free for a year, in exchange for certain favours, nothing coming for nothing in this world. It had run on for a year or two till the old squire had passed away and his son a gay man had put the place to rights, mains water and proper drainage, power, a bathroom all that, but in return he had demanded a rent.
Faced with evection and a young son, she had offered her sexual favours for money and though the new squire was no lover of the ladies not wanting the arrangement for himself he did have friends who willingly paid for her services up at the hall. Survival was the name of that game, but she felt deep down a guilt that ate into her very soul , in some strange way she felt she needed to pay a penance, perhaps for bringing this mite into the world, for breaking up her own family, for oh who knows what.
She paused, her tears wetting her cheeks, her breathing laboured with the effort of soul searching and revealing her inner thoughts to her only offspring. The lad sat, his mouth agape as she poured her heart out; tears ran free, as she talked as never before; she told of one of the squire`s acquaintances asking if he could spank her, paying handsomely extra for the privilege, she had enjoyed the feelings that had emanated from her warm rump, she enjoyed the money as well, that was the beginning of this road that kept them from the streets and in a comfortable life, it also filled that deep desire to pay for her mistakes and as she found she had a high pain threshold, so she had allowed harder punishments each with higher prices, he had brought her “presents” of whips, tawse, crops, and the like, so hard had his ‘play’ become, she had hardly been able to stand still for him, so in came bondage items, a cross and later a whipping block. The original chap had got older but still visited, though now infrequently, some of his friends now taking a turn or two at her chastisement, which she had come to look forward too.
“Yes” she said “I am a whore and a well paid one who loves her pain and the release and climax it brings as well as the money.”
Silence rained, the shocked lad sitting absorbing what he had been told, as she rushed to the kitchen the enormity of her revelation too much more that she needed to gain her breath and her composure, as he digested the information, relief flooded through her as at last she had admitted to someone , especially her only son, her inner feelings.
She made tea and returned to the little room with the tray, she found him sat just as he had been, stunned by the news she had given him, news and truths he really had known but had not wanted to admit too himself.. They drank the tea in silence each absorbing the facts, quietly and both simply trying to find a place to re-start.
Finally he asked if she would show him the outhouse soon as he needed to understand. Surprised she said that she would, but he must realise that there was more to this than just sex, pain and survival did he understand her love for him, which too was way more than just as a mother?
He in turn explained he had never in any circumstances doubted that and even if the girls at school had let him he would have wanted her first, especially since he had found out about sex, his urges had led him to try spying on her, he had `borrowed’ her used underclothes and used them to aid his sexual desire. (This last she said she knew all about as she did the laundry) he said he now felt pretty guilty about his crude desires and lewd thoughts.
The words had overcome the woman so she knelt beside his chair her arms wound round his neck and they kissed, it was not a mother and son kiss, it was deep and it was meaningful His head swam as he tried to make sense of it all. He felt her wince when his hands touched her back, so he gently asked to see the damage she had had inflicted on the Friday before when he knew she had ‘played with a friend.’ he had listened to her muffled screams from the back step for a whole hour. Her eyes cast downwards, but she offered his fingers no resistance as she allowed him to undo the blouse, kneeling unmoving as one button at a time the thin white garment came open. He pulled gently at the tails tucked in the waistband, still no movement, no rebuff, no words. He lifted her arm unbuttoning the wristband sliding the arm from its sheath, her shoulder bare now, her snow white bra exposed to his gaze as he undid the other sleeve her pale skin showing dark red lines on the exposed areas, he stood and moved round her still form , gently fingering her marked back . Exclaiming “oh mum” in a barely audible sound Whisper.
Tears again coursed down their cheeks, as he kissed her neck and she took his hands pulling them to her breasts in a single movement. His hands gentle and pliant caressing her cloth covered mounds his first touch of a woman`s body for joy rather than any functional reason.
He knew she was his, his own body rising to full stiffness as he stooped to feel her nipples began to stand erect. She stood turned and faced him there lips again meeting, as his hands slid round the bra encasing her body in a gentle clasp, he fumbled for the clasp, like all men at first clumsy and unfamiliar with the three hooks so despised by the ardent lover. They finally parted, the elastic springing from his grasp and the bra dropping from her to rest between them caught on his clothed erection now touching her leg.
The milky white orbs bounced a little, the redness of the livid stripes still raw against the soft tissue which he stooped to kiss. Her breath, in one sharp intake, slowly released as his eager lips found her nipples, bruised though they where she knew they were his and he could do as he wished to her, instantly realising their until now hidden love neither having wanted to accept the truth until now, now they knew they forever would be as one.
She fell back in his arms and he lowered her to the floor, gently placing her on the woollen rug, like a piece of precious china, kneeling again beside her throwing the bra to one side and kissing her lips, her neck, and then her belly as his hand found the fastener of the skirt. She raised her hips to aid him, the blue material sliding free of her backside, then slithering down her nylon clad legs aided by his eager hand. She kicked the item free of her ankles, the flat shoes clattering away with the skirt as his hand slid over the smooth legs.
Not used to the assembly of ladies attire, the stockings to his surprise had the light blue knickers over them, he was glad as it meant he could leave on those slippery stockings he had admired so often in the past. Again the lift of the hips as he slid the tiny blue cover from the tuft he so desperately wanted to see, again the kick that freed them from the ankles, he did not notice, his eyes riveted to the tiny pink lips below the tuft which he kissed avidly, before lowering his sights to her gash, she was running wet now, his fingers led to the clitorise that button of desire of the lady that he had so long craved. The feeling of joy was short lived; suddenly his now rigid bar of a penis began to erupt, filling his underpants, to his deep disgust he was overcome with feelings that ranged from sadness, through joy, to the red faced embarrassment he now felt at this crowning moment of his conquest of the one woman he really loved.
She felt for him, clasping him to her chest, soothing him, explaining that it was better this way, it was that way sometimes if the moment was so erotic, that he would last better next time and he was to take off his clothing this latter partly to distract him and partly as she wanted to see what he had to offer. He divested himself of his clothes, his angry cock again standing as only the young can manage, six inches rising stiffly to attention, his damp seed clinging to the tuft of hair at the base of his tool like a cobweb in ferns on a dewy morning.
She leant forward and kissed the tip of his young inexperienced tool, it was hot, and stiff, again ready to be used, she knew from experience he would not last, he was so eager.
Her mouth slid down the shaft, the skills of her trade speeding the plough, her tongue slathered at the lad`s errection, the head deep in her throat as he again began to fill her cheeks with his second bolt of seed. They lay together flat on the rug, his hand slowly sliding over her cool body, like a brail reader starved of letters, slithering, and exploring. He felt the wounds, the soft skin between the livid wields, and she lay quietly enjoying his caress, his very touch as it traced the suspenders still taught against her cool skin.
“We need to eat “she whispered, reluctantly they stood at her insistence, she picking up her clothes, he gently taking them from her, saying “no, there`s no need now mum, your mine!” she smiled allowing him this little pleasure on this special day as together they moved to the kitchen naked save her stockings and the support belt His eyes feasting on her body as she prepared their food..
Together they ate the meal, and then sat in companiable silence basking in their newly revealed love. The meal over she asked if he still wanted to see the outhouse, the place where she received these horrible welts and bruises. She could tell he was still inquisitive, however she looked deep into his eyes and said that from now on there must be no secrets, but he was hesitant to see and understand this, her last secret, the place where she screamed, the place where she enjoyed much pain for whatever reason, most of which she knew he still was struggling to understand.
She stood and firmly took his hand, saying she wanted to show him, she must try and explain her strange needs to him, she took down the key from the beam where it was till lately hidden out of his sight and reach, she then took his hand again and led him into the rain spattered dusk.
Dressed as they were, near naked it struck cool and wet as they stood while she turned the key, the old solid door swung open quietly and they stepped into the entrance of this the last secret, together he clasping her hand like a small c***d on its first day at school. The light clicked on, stark white walls and painted over windows reflected the single shade-less bulb. His eyes quickly fixed on flecks of dried blood in a spray on the far wall next to the crucifix. He hugged her too him as if to say things had changed now, she need not use this charnel house ever again, but she shook her head. “Look,” she gently entreated him “we do still need the money and I really do enjoy the pain”
She saw him eyeing the bloodstain, explained with a shudder that “it was someone he knew as Uncle James who had used the whip a little enthusiastically a while back.” She pointed to the cross, a saint Andrews cross, which she said was for days when she really hated herself, or the customer who had some reason to take out on her body whatever hate or frustration he needed to lose, she was paid extra on those days as it usually took so much longer than usual to recover. She smiled ruefully at the dried blood and fingered a scar on her right shoulder, saying quietly:”that was your computer”
He looked as if he was about to cry so she hugged him. His face crumpled and she kissed him, then showed him the central block, a leather topped solid block about 2ft6” square, fitted with rings at the base, she then lifted a soft whip from the rack pressing it into his hand. “Feel it, go on heft it, swish it about!” She told him and he did as bid, the thongs swished ominously, power ran through his body as for the first time he handled the tools of her enjoyment, he went to return it to her but she said “no, if you really want us to be together you must understand it, use it, become my master in some ways, and to do that you must use it on me, and you must use it now”
Before he could reply she dropped to her knees and laid herself over the block taking a grasp of the rings at the base and telling him if he was the man he thought he was to use the whip for a couple of strokes on her, his devoted lover.
His mind flew through the facets of the situation, she, his much loved mother whom he had no desire at all to hurt, wanted him to use the whip on her, it was her wish, however he knew if he did not do as she asked he would never be her true lover, and more than life itself he wanted to posses this woman`s lovely body, to be her sexual master.
Time passed, as he stood torn between doing what his inner man desired and the ingrained protective feelings his heart had towards this woman who had done so much for him in life. She waited with baited breath, would he accept her masochistic desires, or would he just want to continue as mother and son, she closed her eyes and began a little prayer. His mind made up, he took a breath then swished the whip through the air, it landed with a slap, a gentle slap that told of his losing his bottle as he was mid swing.
She turned her head facing him over her shoulder, fixed him with a steely gaze, obviously disappointed at his efforts, though glad he had at least tried, her grip on the rings never eased, as she waited to see if he would try again. He bit his lip, knowing she was waiting, raised the whip and drove it at her already marked backside, the feeling of power, the sudden rush of adrenaline the feel of the leather, as the thongs struck all came together, he had struck his target, she had not flinched, she knew now he would never look back, the feeling for her of the caress of those thongs ecstatic, especially as it was him, her own son administering the stroke, the boy that was now becoming a man, the second and the third fell easily, like a d**g to her and now him, he wanted more, she knew the signs and shouted for him to cease, her voice enough to break the spell, the whip falling from his hands as he fell on his knees and kissed her now fresh marks, she turned and kissed him thanking him, her backside stinging now as she rolled to the floor dragging him onto her and allowing him to penetrate her in one swift smooth movement her stinging and damaged back rolling on the cold tiles of the floor that she had wiped her own blood from many times.
What followed was the age old sexual thrusting that has been unchanged since Adam took Eve; the whips use had stimulated them in their urgency, his amateurish thrusts enhancing the whole effect, for her, together they achieved that age old climatic excitement that is so hard to describe, those feelings that start in the balls and progress deep into the woman`s body in a single electrical charge that lights up the lives of us all. In this case it was made the more poignant by the virginity and the surroundings. Her body soon full now she lay, content, her son now the man she had always hoped for, her dream lover, she knew he would train easily to fulfil her every desire, they were as one.
Introduction
My heroine is named Penny, she at the time was 45 ish, big breasted nice if a little plump figure, She stood about 5ft 8, ash blond shoulder length hair, and single, she shares a bungalow with her son Ricky near the coast of Kent, she lists her hobbies as, dog walking, and art being a good painter, and augmenting her income with her art sales. She had never been married; Ricky being the product of some faulty rubber-wear when she was in her 20`s during a drunken night out. She loved him dearly but
resented him losing her both her youth and her boyfriend at that time who she had hoped to marry.
Ricky was a strong lad, tall, a great swimmer as a k**, though shy, never one for the girls, (or the boys may it be said,) spends his time on the computer surfing the web for porn as we all did at that age and doing odd jobs for cash as well as a little poaching to keep them fed.
Since around his 14th birthday he had had a thing for his mother, partly I suspect as she was the only woman he came into contact with on a daily basis.
The bungalow they shared was shall we say a little off the road, and isolated, so contact with others was not as regular as in say a town or village. Which suited penny as she at one time advertised her services on a sex site, she had no trade to fall back on just her looks, and as a masochist she had fallen to taking money to keep them both. BDMS was the best payer so she had “visitors” who paid a lot to use her body in what had been the old wash-house, now she called it a play-room and as her customers tended to enjoy making her scream, she found they paid more if she was vocal though in a lot of cases it was genuine and here she was just far enough away from civilisation to not be heard.
From being a youngster the lad knew of his mothers trade (he could hardly miss it) she swore him to secrecy having told him it was games adults play and passed off the marks as part of the game though he didn’t understand it he just excepted it and took it everyone “played the games”.
She, fearing authority problems drilled it into him to say nothing to any-one and as he benefitted from the income as well he had learnt to answer the phone and to greet visitors leading them to the old wash-house to meet his mother on occasions. He had never been into the games room and was naturally curious.
From about the age of 10 he helped her to dab soothing balms on her back and backside after her “friends” had left, he suspected she had marks elsewhere but she never allowed him to see laying face down on her bed for him to do the necessary.
Till the lad was 14 it caused no problems, before that he had no computer so surfing the web was not a problem but Penny bought one for him for his birthday to do homework, from a lad at school he learnt of porn and where to find it, from then on he understood about the play room and looked at his mother in a vastly different way.
Of course over the years penny had a regular clientele 3 masters who each came back for more perhaps once every few month, she no longer advertised relying on she one or two trusted client nowadays so she had time to heal at least a little between bouts.
We take up the story just after the lad became aware of what the games had been about; he now was in awe of the way his mother had suffered to keep them both. They had not spoken of the trade, though in her heart she knew the time would come when she needed to face the subject.
1,
They were sat in front of the television rain having stopped his poaching activities, a little sideline that helped to feed them both. Some dreary film dragging its heels across the screen neither of them being very interested in the thing but there was little else on.
Penny sat on the sofa, stockinged legs curled under her, thin blouse buttoned to the high neck, a skirt of navy blue, flat sensible shoes, he in jeans and a tee shirt lounging over the armchair as youngsters do, his bored eyes slowly wandering to his mother, imagining her body under the blouse, wondering what her front he had never seen was really like. She became aware of his roaming eyes, quietly asking why he was looking at her in such a way.
He knew he was caught, turning a flush of pink, he stuttered that “he was just daydreaming.” Though his face belied that and she instantly knew that he was eyeing her in a sexual way and that perhaps she needed to ‘have that talk’ she had been putting off for so long.
She pushed the off button and the silence spread like a fog round the little room. He looked askance of her, knowing by her body language that she was about to broach a subject that he knew would be serious and perhaps embarrassing Haltingly she began to ask about school and did they teach sex education yet?
He smiled and said that “the school had done that at 12, he had absorbed all he could and had collected bits from other lads in the playground.” She looked very relieved, but it was short-lived when he said that “he had researched on his new computer, perhaps with a little bravado he then said that” he now knew what a woman looked like if that`s what she was asking?”
It was a subject which he had wanted to find a way of approaching for months now. though in some curious way he had avoided it in equal measures knowing it could have caused problems and problems he didn`t need with the mother he had so long desired, so he had avoided the subject most carefully, till now, feeling she may find the subject all just too difficult especially explaining the “games” in the old outhouse which he had never yet been allowed to enter in all the years he could remember. In some peculiar way he was glad to find the subject in the open this wet afternoon,
By now penny was red with embarrassment, her son, whom she had strived all this time to protect from the world of sex was explaining he knew enough of the subject of sex to understand it. She was shocked though she knew it was inevitable at some stage so regaining a little of her composure, she quietly probed him about if he had a girlfriend and had he put the great research into practise yet? To which he laughed; saying he was known as the ‘weirdo from the woods’, a name he didn’t disillusion any of the class from as it left him to poach in peace, none of the girls were really interested in him anyway, and though he had even tried bribery only one had even talked to him on the subject and that had come to nothing.
She gently asked about just what he knew which was she was relieved to find, quite a lot of the basics, however he did say he now knew “of her sacrifice in the outhouse”, using just those words, the dam of silence was broken forever words tumbling one after the other, from him, how he appreciated all she had done for him over the years, that he had had the best she could ever afford, and how she had done without a husband and so on.
The embarrassment factor loomed large, tears were forming as he gushed of his love for her as a mother, and that he hoped she would never be parted from her, that she was the only woman he ever wanted. She was flattered, embarrassed even, but she knew she had to explain her enjoyment of what happened out there to him and that it was not the great sacrifice he believed, she knew it was not to be easy. She raised her hand to him to stop his torrent of words, silence fell in the room as he took stock of what he had blurted out and she compose herself to speak, stopping him from another outburst.
“Look she said let`s get the whole matter out in the open once and for all shall we?” he nodded his agreement, then sat attentively as she carefully explained first about her supposed fiancé, the broken rubber, the gutlessly speedy retreat to America of the would be father, her broken heart, his very birth, and the love of the tiny c***d from that instant. Through tear filled eyes she told of her families attempts to have him adopted her family shunning her, her leaving home and the kindly squire allowing her to live in what then was a near hovel, rent free for a year, in exchange for certain favours, nothing coming for nothing in this world. It had run on for a year or two till the old squire had passed away and his son a gay man had put the place to rights, mains water and proper drainage, power, a bathroom all that, but in return he had demanded a rent.
Faced with evection and a young son, she had offered her sexual favours for money and though the new squire was no lover of the ladies not wanting the arrangement for himself he did have friends who willingly paid for her services up at the hall. Survival was the name of that game, but she felt deep down a guilt that ate into her very soul , in some strange way she felt she needed to pay a penance, perhaps for bringing this mite into the world, for breaking up her own family, for oh who knows what.
She paused, her tears wetting her cheeks, her breathing laboured with the effort of soul searching and revealing her inner thoughts to her only offspring. The lad sat, his mouth agape as she poured her heart out; tears ran free, as she talked as never before; she told of one of the squire`s acquaintances asking if he could spank her, paying handsomely extra for the privilege, she had enjoyed the feelings that had emanated from her warm rump, she enjoyed the money as well, that was the beginning of this road that kept them from the streets and in a comfortable life, it also filled that deep desire to pay for her mistakes and as she found she had a high pain threshold, so she had allowed harder punishments each with higher prices, he had brought her “presents” of whips, tawse, crops, and the like, so hard had his ‘play’ become, she had hardly been able to stand still for him, so in came bondage items, a cross and later a whipping block. The original chap had got older but still visited, though now infrequently, some of his friends now taking a turn or two at her chastisement, which she had come to look forward too.
“Yes” she said “I am a whore and a well paid one who loves her pain and the release and climax it brings as well as the money.”
Silence rained, the shocked lad sitting absorbing what he had been told, as she rushed to the kitchen the enormity of her revelation too much more that she needed to gain her breath and her composure, as he digested the information, relief flooded through her as at last she had admitted to someone , especially her only son, her inner feelings.
She made tea and returned to the little room with the tray, she found him sat just as he had been, stunned by the news she had given him, news and truths he really had known but had not wanted to admit too himself.. They drank the tea in silence each absorbing the facts, quietly and both simply trying to find a place to re-start.
Finally he asked if she would show him the outhouse soon as he needed to understand. Surprised she said that she would, but he must realise that there was more to this than just sex, pain and survival did he understand her love for him, which too was way more than just as a mother?
He in turn explained he had never in any circumstances doubted that and even if the girls at school had let him he would have wanted her first, especially since he had found out about sex, his urges had led him to try spying on her, he had `borrowed’ her used underclothes and used them to aid his sexual desire. (This last she said she knew all about as she did the laundry) he said he now felt pretty guilty about his crude desires and lewd thoughts.
The words had overcome the woman so she knelt beside his chair her arms wound round his neck and they kissed, it was not a mother and son kiss, it was deep and it was meaningful His head swam as he tried to make sense of it all. He felt her wince when his hands touched her back, so he gently asked to see the damage she had had inflicted on the Friday before when he knew she had ‘played with a friend.’ he had listened to her muffled screams from the back step for a whole hour. Her eyes cast downwards, but she offered his fingers no resistance as she allowed him to undo the blouse, kneeling unmoving as one button at a time the thin white garment came open. He pulled gently at the tails tucked in the waistband, still no movement, no rebuff, no words. He lifted her arm unbuttoning the wristband sliding the arm from its sheath, her shoulder bare now, her snow white bra exposed to his gaze as he undid the other sleeve her pale skin showing dark red lines on the exposed areas, he stood and moved round her still form , gently fingering her marked back . Exclaiming “oh mum” in a barely audible sound Whisper.
Tears again coursed down their cheeks, as he kissed her neck and she took his hands pulling them to her breasts in a single movement. His hands gentle and pliant caressing her cloth covered mounds his first touch of a woman`s body for joy rather than any functional reason.
He knew she was his, his own body rising to full stiffness as he stooped to feel her nipples began to stand erect. She stood turned and faced him there lips again meeting, as his hands slid round the bra encasing her body in a gentle clasp, he fumbled for the clasp, like all men at first clumsy and unfamiliar with the three hooks so despised by the ardent lover. They finally parted, the elastic springing from his grasp and the bra dropping from her to rest between them caught on his clothed erection now touching her leg.
The milky white orbs bounced a little, the redness of the livid stripes still raw against the soft tissue which he stooped to kiss. Her breath, in one sharp intake, slowly released as his eager lips found her nipples, bruised though they where she knew they were his and he could do as he wished to her, instantly realising their until now hidden love neither having wanted to accept the truth until now, now they knew they forever would be as one.
She fell back in his arms and he lowered her to the floor, gently placing her on the woollen rug, like a piece of precious china, kneeling again beside her throwing the bra to one side and kissing her lips, her neck, and then her belly as his hand found the fastener of the skirt. She raised her hips to aid him, the blue material sliding free of her backside, then slithering down her nylon clad legs aided by his eager hand. She kicked the item free of her ankles, the flat shoes clattering away with the skirt as his hand slid over the smooth legs.
Not used to the assembly of ladies attire, the stockings to his surprise had the light blue knickers over them, he was glad as it meant he could leave on those slippery stockings he had admired so often in the past. Again the lift of the hips as he slid the tiny blue cover from the tuft he so desperately wanted to see, again the kick that freed them from the ankles, he did not notice, his eyes riveted to the tiny pink lips below the tuft which he kissed avidly, before lowering his sights to her gash, she was running wet now, his fingers led to the clitorise that button of desire of the lady that he had so long craved. The feeling of joy was short lived; suddenly his now rigid bar of a penis began to erupt, filling his underpants, to his deep disgust he was overcome with feelings that ranged from sadness, through joy, to the red faced embarrassment he now felt at this crowning moment of his conquest of the one woman he really loved.
She felt for him, clasping him to her chest, soothing him, explaining that it was better this way, it was that way sometimes if the moment was so erotic, that he would last better next time and he was to take off his clothing this latter partly to distract him and partly as she wanted to see what he had to offer. He divested himself of his clothes, his angry cock again standing as only the young can manage, six inches rising stiffly to attention, his damp seed clinging to the tuft of hair at the base of his tool like a cobweb in ferns on a dewy morning.
She leant forward and kissed the tip of his young inexperienced tool, it was hot, and stiff, again ready to be used, she knew from experience he would not last, he was so eager.
Her mouth slid down the shaft, the skills of her trade speeding the plough, her tongue slathered at the lad`s errection, the head deep in her throat as he again began to fill her cheeks with his second bolt of seed. They lay together flat on the rug, his hand slowly sliding over her cool body, like a brail reader starved of letters, slithering, and exploring. He felt the wounds, the soft skin between the livid wields, and she lay quietly enjoying his caress, his very touch as it traced the suspenders still taught against her cool skin.
“We need to eat “she whispered, reluctantly they stood at her insistence, she picking up her clothes, he gently taking them from her, saying “no, there`s no need now mum, your mine!” she smiled allowing him this little pleasure on this special day as together they moved to the kitchen naked save her stockings and the support belt His eyes feasting on her body as she prepared their food..
Together they ate the meal, and then sat in companiable silence basking in their newly revealed love. The meal over she asked if he still wanted to see the outhouse, the place where she received these horrible welts and bruises. She could tell he was still inquisitive, however she looked deep into his eyes and said that from now on there must be no secrets, but he was hesitant to see and understand this, her last secret, the place where she screamed, the place where she enjoyed much pain for whatever reason, most of which she knew he still was struggling to understand.
She stood and firmly took his hand, saying she wanted to show him, she must try and explain her strange needs to him, she took down the key from the beam where it was till lately hidden out of his sight and reach, she then took his hand again and led him into the rain spattered dusk.
Dressed as they were, near naked it struck cool and wet as they stood while she turned the key, the old solid door swung open quietly and they stepped into the entrance of this the last secret, together he clasping her hand like a small c***d on its first day at school. The light clicked on, stark white walls and painted over windows reflected the single shade-less bulb. His eyes quickly fixed on flecks of dried blood in a spray on the far wall next to the crucifix. He hugged her too him as if to say things had changed now, she need not use this charnel house ever again, but she shook her head. “Look,” she gently entreated him “we do still need the money and I really do enjoy the pain”
She saw him eyeing the bloodstain, explained with a shudder that “it was someone he knew as Uncle James who had used the whip a little enthusiastically a while back.” She pointed to the cross, a saint Andrews cross, which she said was for days when she really hated herself, or the customer who had some reason to take out on her body whatever hate or frustration he needed to lose, she was paid extra on those days as it usually took so much longer than usual to recover. She smiled ruefully at the dried blood and fingered a scar on her right shoulder, saying quietly:”that was your computer”
He looked as if he was about to cry so she hugged him. His face crumpled and she kissed him, then showed him the central block, a leather topped solid block about 2ft6” square, fitted with rings at the base, she then lifted a soft whip from the rack pressing it into his hand. “Feel it, go on heft it, swish it about!” She told him and he did as bid, the thongs swished ominously, power ran through his body as for the first time he handled the tools of her enjoyment, he went to return it to her but she said “no, if you really want us to be together you must understand it, use it, become my master in some ways, and to do that you must use it on me, and you must use it now”
Before he could reply she dropped to her knees and laid herself over the block taking a grasp of the rings at the base and telling him if he was the man he thought he was to use the whip for a couple of strokes on her, his devoted lover.
His mind flew through the facets of the situation, she, his much loved mother whom he had no desire at all to hurt, wanted him to use the whip on her, it was her wish, however he knew if he did not do as she asked he would never be her true lover, and more than life itself he wanted to posses this woman`s lovely body, to be her sexual master.
Time passed, as he stood torn between doing what his inner man desired and the ingrained protective feelings his heart had towards this woman who had done so much for him in life. She waited with baited breath, would he accept her masochistic desires, or would he just want to continue as mother and son, she closed her eyes and began a little prayer. His mind made up, he took a breath then swished the whip through the air, it landed with a slap, a gentle slap that told of his losing his bottle as he was mid swing.
She turned her head facing him over her shoulder, fixed him with a steely gaze, obviously disappointed at his efforts, though glad he had at least tried, her grip on the rings never eased, as she waited to see if he would try again. He bit his lip, knowing she was waiting, raised the whip and drove it at her already marked backside, the feeling of power, the sudden rush of adrenaline the feel of the leather, as the thongs struck all came together, he had struck his target, she had not flinched, she knew now he would never look back, the feeling for her of the caress of those thongs ecstatic, especially as it was him, her own son administering the stroke, the boy that was now becoming a man, the second and the third fell easily, like a d**g to her and now him, he wanted more, she knew the signs and shouted for him to cease, her voice enough to break the spell, the whip falling from his hands as he fell on his knees and kissed her now fresh marks, she turned and kissed him thanking him, her backside stinging now as she rolled to the floor dragging him onto her and allowing him to penetrate her in one swift smooth movement her stinging and damaged back rolling on the cold tiles of the floor that she had wiped her own blood from many times.
What followed was the age old sexual thrusting that has been unchanged since Adam took Eve; the whips use had stimulated them in their urgency, his amateurish thrusts enhancing the whole effect, for her, together they achieved that age old climatic excitement that is so hard to describe, those feelings that start in the balls and progress deep into the woman`s body in a single electrical charge that lights up the lives of us all. In this case it was made the more poignant by the virginity and the surroundings. Her body soon full now she lay, content, her son now the man she had always hoped for, her dream lover, she knew he would train easily to fulfil her every desire, they were as one.
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