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Angela's Diary - 2
by Senor Smut (senorsmut@gmail.com)

***

The continuing story of Angela, the housewife led into 
debauchery by her own lusts and the manipulations of 
her teenage son. (F/m-teen, ped, inc, beast)

***

Chapter Four

May 10

I woke up early on Saturday. I'd spent the night having 
dreams that I couldn't really remember when I woke up 
except I knew that they involved Charlie and David and 
Brandy and Petra, my sister Sue, a couple of neighbors 
and a few friends I expected to see tonight, and they 
were erotic. I woke up needing to cum. I lay in my bed 
listening to Tim and Charlie breathing and feeling my 
pussy wet, my nipples hard, and my whole body tense. 
And I woke up knowing that I'd dreamed about sex with 
my son.

It was that last one that was the real problem. Erotic 
dreams are great in my book, but when I dreamed about 
fucking David – and woke up horny – I knew I had a real 
crisis. What had been happening in my life, and what he 
was doing to me, was absolutely horrible. I needed to 
find a way to make it stop, not dream about more of it. 
I woke up feeling guilty, dirty, and nasty – and 
somehow, those feelings only made me hornier, at least 
on some level. 

That, of course, just made me more disgusted with 
myself so that a few minutes after I woke up I felt 
like I wanted to puke. I threw the covers back and 
Charlie raised his head, looking at me expectantly. 

"Yep, let's go outside," I whispered, and he was off 
the bed in a flash and at the bedroom door, and a few 
seconds later racing down the stairs ahead of me. He 
was prancing around by the time I got to the back door, 
and when I opened it he took off like a flash to 
explore the yard. It's not like we've got a big yard or 
anything, but Charlie definitely sees it as his domain 
and he likes to keep tabs on it. And God help the 
squirrel he catches.

I followed him outside just in my long nightgown and 
the (sensible) panties I had on underneath it. The dew 
on the patio felt chilly beneath my bare feet, but I 
barely noticed. I was lost in thought, so lost that I 
hardly even remarked on the lovely sunrise or the 
growing warmth that promised a beautiful day. I was 
much too troubled to take much note of that kind of 
thing. I used the hem of my gown to wipe the dew off 
one of our patio chairs and sat down to watch Charlie 
sniff everything in sight. He was so simple, so 
happy...and I was so fucked up. 

I sighed heavily and looked up into the sky that was 
quickly growing lighter. There was typical morning haze 
but other than that it was clear and I could see up 
into the fading blue where the last few stars were 
lingering. The moon had already set and it was 
peaceful, tranquil. The neighborhood was quiet. The 
neighbors were still asleep. For a moment I could 
pretend that I was alone and that I didn't have any 
problems, that my son wasn't a black cloud over my head 
and that my life wasn't spinning out of control –

I felt a heavy canine head land on my lap, and I looked 
down to see Charlie with his jaw resting on my thigh, 
looking up at me with his huge, irresistible brown eyes 
and silently pleading to be petted. Who was I to say 
no?

His fur felt wonderful under my hand. He was warm and 
soft, and as I stroked my hand back along his neck I 
could feel his warmth, his strength, his solidity. "My 
friend," I whispered with a smile, and his silky tail 
thumped. "You'd never hurt me, would you? You'd never 
abandon me, or make me do anything I didn't want to do. 
You'd never be cruel to me. You're my perfect friend."

He was my lover.

The thought brought me up short, but only a little. 
Maybe I was getting used to it by now, I don't know. 
Yes it was still a little shocking, but it was also so 
damned right, like nothing I'd ever felt before, and it 
was so obviously something that I needed, and had 
always needed, that I knew I wouldn't be able to stop 
him from touching me again... and when I closed my eyes 
and thought about that red, slick-looking cock he had, 
I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from touching 
him, either. 

I let my mind drift back to that image, the way his 
heavy balls swung and the way his cock was pointed and 
hard and glistening, and I wondered what it would feel 
like in my hand. Would it be hot? Would it be slippery? 
Could I feel his heartbeat through it the way I could 
through a man's cock (like David's, my mind reminded 
me)? Could I put my lips around it, take it into my 
mouth and give him the same pleasure he gave me? What 
would his cum taste like? 

Would he fuck me?

I shivered at the thought and felt my pussy spasm as I 
pulled his head close. It was the first time I had ever 
let myself imagine that, and it instantly made me 
terrifically aroused. I could feel my nipples poking 
against the thin cotton of my gown and I could feel my 
panties getting wet almost with the thought. I gasped 
aloud at the way it made me feel, at the sheer erotic 
power the concept held for me. Would he? If I...if I 
offered myself to him, would he take me? Would he make 
me his? Would he put that beautiful red cock inside me? 
Would he fight to get to me the same way he had fought 
to get to Nosey?

Charlie must have smelled me then with that incredibly 
nose of his, because his head moved and, as I opened my 
eyes he pushed his snout up under my gown, his furry 
shoulders trying to spread my legs.

I looked about and saw nothing but closed drapes and 
sleeping houses. It wasn't even 5:00 AM on a Saturday, 
the whole neighborhood was asleep. The whole STATE was 
asleep. I knew that I shouldn't be doing this in 
public, where anyone could see, but we had a high 
privacy fence and there was no sign of life in any of 
the second-story windows.

I opened my legs and hiked up my robe. As I slouched in 
the seat to present my pussy to Charlie, I pulled the 
crotch of my panties aside to bare myself to him. And I 
let him lick me.

Charlie had no hesitation. He knew what to do now and 
he did it, his nose pressing hard into my clit and his 
huge, flat tongue pushing up inside of me. I had to 
bite my lip to keep from crying out. It was simply 
perfect. It was what I needed and who I needed it from, 
and I let him take me to the place he wanted to take 
me. I came in just a few minutes, a small but wonderful 
release that made me feel calm and relaxed and 
purposeful, and I did it quietly enough that I didn't 
wake a soul. A couple of minutes later I was back 
inside, Charlie at my feet as I brewed the morning 
coffee. 

Tim was the first one up, of course. He's always been 
the early bird, unlike me, and he was surprised to find 
me up and moving around before him. "Good morning," he 
said brightly as he crossed the kitchen to put a kiss 
on my cheek. "What gets you out of bed at this hour?"

"Bad dreams," I lied. It was getting easier to lie the 
more I did it, something I didn't like.

"They don't seem to have lingered," he told me as he 
leaned against the counter. "You're positively glowing 
now."

I blushed a bit at the remembrance of Charlie putting 
that glow on my cheeks, but I covered it with a laugh. 
"And I get more beautiful every day, right?"

"It's not a clichι if it's true!" he protested, 
laughing with me.

"Yes it is," I replied, sticking my tongue out at him 
playfully. The thing was, I did feel beautiful. The 
lover I had always needed had just made me cum and I 
felt fantastic. I was still buzzing from the orgasm and 
the gloom from my dreams and what was hanging over me 
was dispelled, at least for the moment. I took a sip of 
coffee and asked, "Are you going to the gym right 
away?"

"Same old Saturday routine," Tim nodded. "Except I'm 
meeting Jorge for a working lunch afterward."

I nodded – Tim usually worked a part day on Saturday 
(or so I thought at the time). "So you won't be around 
to help me cook for the party, you slacker."

"Riiiiiiiight," he laughed, cupping my ass 
affectionately and giving a squeeze. "Like you'd let me 
anywhere near the kitchen if I was around here anyway. 
I learned better years ago."

I slapped his hard belly a light slap and he oofed 
playfully. "When are you going to be back?"

"Around one," he replied. "Maybe a little earlier, 
maybe a little later."

"Hence the use of the word 'around,'" I pointed out 
with in deadpan. 

"Hence indeed," he agreed, and we both smiled. We spent 
the next 20 minutes or so chatting, just about stuff, 
and then he went off to work out. I watched some 
morning news, sitting on the sofa drinking my coffee as 
I petted Charlie's head, and then went into the kitchen 
in time to make breakfast for Laurel – she gets up the 
same time every day, school days, weekends, holidays, 
summer, it doesn't matter. You can set your clock by 
her. 

"Mom!" she said as she came into the kitchen. "What are 
you doing up?"

"Making your breakfast," I replied, carrying a plate of 
cut fruit for us to put on our cereal. "The toast will 
be ready in a second."

She eyed me suspiciously. "OK, you're never up before 
eight on Saturdays. What gives?"

I put my hands on my hips. "It's not that I'm NEVER up 
before eight on Saturdays–"

Laurel gave me a get-real stare and said, "Mom. You are 
NEVER up before eight on Saturdays."

"Well I'm up before eight today, and this is a 
Saturday," I pointed out with a smile. "So I'm right, 
you're wrong, and I win."

She smiled as she took her seat, and in a moment we 
were dining magnificently on Whole Grain Cheerios with 
strawberries and toast. She was excited about the party 
this afternoon and it showed, because it was just about 
her first topic of conversation. "So what are we going 
to make for tonight?"

"I'm making my three bean salad," I said, and she 
interjected a "Yummy" as I went on. "And I'm going to 
make potato salad."

"The white one or the yellow one?"

"The white one."

"Good," she nodded. "The yellow one has too much 
mustard. Can I help?"

"If you want," I said, smiling hugely. She liked to do 
things more with Tim than with me, but cooking was one 
area where her heart was still mine. 

"Cool," she said cheerfully. "Let's start right away!"

And so we did, setting to peeling and boiling potatoes 
and chopping onions with gusto. We laughed a lot, cried 
because of the onions, and generally had a fantastic 
Saturday morning. We were mostly done by 11:50 when 
David finally came downstairs, dressed in baggy shorts 
and an oversized tee shirt. He'd already showered and 
looked ready to go out. He found me alone in the 
kitchen – Laurel had just gone off to the bathroom – 
and he came up behind me and squeezed my ass in much 
the same way his father had hours before. "Hey sweets," 
he said cheerfully, ignoring the way I stiffened at his 
touch. "Smells good. You cooking your bean salad? Gonna 
leave some for me?"

"Sure, I can leave some home," I replied, stepping away 
from his touch. He always liked my bean salad, so this 
wasn't a surprise. He liked my potato salad too (though 
he preferred the mustardy one his sister didn't like) 
and I'd put some in the fridge for him. 

"Good," he nodded, leaning up against the stove and 
crossing his arms in front of him with fake casualness. 
"Oh, I emailed you something, I want you to take a look 
at it. And don't worry, it's not a movie starring you 
or anything."

"OK, I'll take a look as soon as I get a chance, but 
I'll be busy today getting ready for the party–"

"I want you to take a look at it now." His posture was 
still casual, but that was a command if I ever heard 
one. I looked into his eyes and saw he was dead 
serious, and after a moment I nodded. "Fine, I'll do it 
as soon as Laurel gets back to watch the beans."

And that was how, a few minutes later, I wound up in 
front of our laptop in the upstairs office, opening my 
email. His message was on top and I opened it, only to 
find something I didn't quite expect: a link that said 
CLICK HERE, and a login ID and password. So I 
clicked...

Oh Lord, what I found. 

The first thing that came up was a picture of a woman 
on all fours, naked, a look of absolute passion on her 
face. Atop her was a beautiful brown German shepherd, 
and even though the picture was taken from the front, 
there was no doubt that the dog was fucking her. I 
stared at it, eyes wide, mouth open, frozen in place. 

The dog's fur was an incredible contrast to the woman's 
skin – dark where she was pale, hairy where she was 
smooth – and the way his forelegs were wrapped around 
her waist and his tongue was hanging from his mouth was 
erotic enough to make me as wet as the Mississippi 
between my legs. But it was the expression on the 
pretty woman's face that transfixed me. 

I stared at it for an endless moment, seeing her eyes 
tightly scrunched, her mouth open wide in a silent cry 
of ecstasy, her whole expression one of lust and 
abandon. *She knows,* my mind told me. *She knows what 
it feels like to have a dog inside her. She knows what 
I want to know, and what I need to find out.*

There was a member area login, and my fingers shook 
like mad as I typed in the information. My heart was 
going so fast that I was breathless and dizzy, my 
vision was blurred, and I felt like my chest would 
explode. I was so completely and utterly aroused that I 
was almost orgasming without touching myself or seeing 
any more but that single picture, and I held my breath 
as the page loaded...

It was a wonderland. There were photos, stories, movies 
– MOVIES! – all dedicated to women and dogs. All 
dedicated to what I wanted and needed. I clicked on the 
photos page and was treated to a series of pictures of 
a cute, chubby bottle blonde being mounted and rutted 
by a golden retriever. As I opened the first one my 
hand was between my legs and inside my shorts, and I 
was coming by the time I got to the third picture. My 
orgasm continued in waves as I saw more pictures, as I 
downloaded and scanned a couple of stories, as I 
watched a movie of a woman sucking a magnificent, 
hugely thick, scarlet cock of a big black dog. 

I remember distinctly my first clear sight of an erect, 
unsheathed dog cock: it looked enormous, powerful, and 
so utterly masculine that I almost swooned from looking 
at it. But it was the knot that held me transfixed; I 
had never suspected the existence of such a thing, and 
for a long moment I could look at nothing else but that 
mammoth bulge. At first I wondered what it was for, but 
then I remembered Laurel's casual mention of dogs 
getting stuck together, and then, all at once, I knew. 
My heart slammed into my breastbone so hard that I 
almost passed out at the implication: dogs would mate 
with human women, and if that knot would get stuck in 
another dog, then it might get stuck in a woman too.

Charlie's knot might get stuck in me.

I don't even know how I kept from screaming out my 
orgasm. It was so intense I thought my eyes were going 
to fly out of my head. I held my breath, bit my lip so 
hard that it bled a little, and howled my climax into 
my mouth. My whole body shook and trembled like I was 
having a seizure, and when it was done I could barely 
do so much as move my finger to click on to the next 
thing.

But I did click, and I kept looking at more and more, 
clicking compulsively. I'm honestly not even sure what 
I saw, because it's all a bit of a blur now; I think I 
had cartoon bubbles coming out of the top of my head. 
All I knew was that I was looking at something that 
felt so phenomenally right that I couldn't even think 
of turning away. I stared, rapt, touching myself, my 
juices soaking through my shorts and onto the leather 
desk chair, coming in a series of orgasms that were 
small but thrilling and amazing and almost one right 
after the last. I wanted so desperately to be IN those 
pictures, those movies, and as I watched them it was no 
struggle at all to imagine just that.

"Mom?" came Laurel's voice from downstairs. "Can you 
come and mix up the salad?"

Shit! How long had I been there? I glanced down at the 
clock on the computer and saw it was five minutes past 
one! "I... yes, I'll be down in a second!" I called 
out, my voice shaky and passion fogged. "Give me a 
minute!"

"You OK?" she called up.

"Just a bit woozy," I replied as I deleted the browser 
history and closed the computer down. "I was just lying 
down."

"See? This is why you don't get up early on Saturdays!" 
Laurel called up teasingly. 

"Quiet, you!" I said, forcing a laugh as I stood up. My 
shorts had soaked through from the crotch down onto my 
ass! I was unsteady on my feet and felt dizzy, but I 
forced myself into my bathroom, washed up, put on some 
perfume to cover the lingering smell of my sex, and 
changed clothes. I don't think I completely pulled 
myself together because Laurel kept asking if I was OK, 
and I know I was a little...out of it as we mixed up 
the potato salad and the bean salad. Several times she 
had to say something more than once because I didn't 
hear it the first time, and I know some of my answers 
didn't make much sense. I kept seeing the images from 
the website flashing in front of my eyes and I was 
incredibly horny in spite of an hour and a quarter 
spent in continuous orgasm. 

My daughter thought I was sick, and when Tim got home 
at quarter to two, he thought the same thing. Both of 
them made me go upstairs to lie down, which I did on 
unsteady legs and with the most amazing thoughts of 
Charlie running through my brain. The fact that he 
followed with me and curled up on the bed at my feet 
didn't make it any easier to control myself!

I few minutes later, as I was petting Charlie with my 
foot and trying desperately to think of anything but 
getting on all fours and letting him breed me, the door 
to my bedroom swung open (without a preceding knock, 
I'll add) to reveal David, who leaned against the jamb 
with a smirk and once more crossed his arms in front of 
him. He looked at me with that terribly superior smile 
of his and said, happily, "You're sick."

That sent a flash of anger through me. "You're a fine 
one to talk! The way you touch me and–"

"No," he interrupted me, his tone patient and 
patronizing. "You're physically sick, as in your too 
sick to go to the party tonight."

I stiffened. I knew that if I stayed home with him 
alone, things would happen. He knew how to touch me, 
and he knew my weaknesses, and if I gave him the chance 
then he would do things to me that I wouldn't be able 
to resist and I would do things to him too, and then 
there would be no turning back, no way to undo them. 
"No way," I said firmly, covering my eyes with my arm. 
"I've been looking forward to it all year and I'm not 
going to miss it."

"Sure you are," he replied, stepping into the bedroom 
and shutting the door behind him. At first I was afraid 
that he would cross the room and join me on the bed, 
but instead he just leaned against the door with one 
shoulder and looked at me. After a moment, he asked, 
"How did you like the website I signed you up for?" I 
didn't answer, so he asked it again, and this time I 
spat, "You know I liked it, damn you. Why don't you 
just leave me alone?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, I want you to leave me alone and stop this... 
this obscenity. It's not right!" I protested. "It's not 
right for you to do these kinds of things to me, don't 
you realize I'm your mother, for God sake?"

"I seem to remember something about that, yes," he said 
with a chipper and thoroughly insulting tone in his 
voice.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position and glared at 
him. "Then why, David? Why are you treating me this 
way?"

"Because I want to." It was a simple, chilling answer. 

I felt tears start, and I hated myself for it. This was 
a confrontation that I needed to have in order to stop 
the madness I was sliding into, and to cry my way 
through it would do nothing but cut the ground out from 
under myself. It was just that, terrible as he was, 
David was still my son and I still loved him. I had 
absolutely no illusions about him (especially not after 
the last few days) but he was the flesh of my flesh. I 
had felt him growing inside my womb. I had given birth 
to him. I had nursed him. I had tended his scrapes and 
held him when he was scared. 

I had sent him off to his first day of school and felt 
that mixture of pride and heartbreak that every parent 
knows on that day. I had answered questions about 
dinosaurs and spaceships and other kids. He was my boy, 
my baby boy, and even though I knew precisely what kind 
of person he was, it was still a knife in the heart to 
have him treat me like one of his whores. "Why?" I 
managed to ask without blubbering. "What did I ever do 
to make you do this to me? What?"

He cocked his head, as though the question was either 
completely novel or completely foolish, and he gave a 
surprisingly tender smile. "You've been the woman I've 
wanted since I was...what, six years old?"

I goggled. "How could a six year old think anything 
like that?"

He crossed the room then and sat on the bed next to me, 
but he did nothing lewd. He simply took my hand and 
looked me in the eye. "It wasn't that I thought it 
then. Well, I mean I think I did think it then, but I 
didn't know what I was thinking. But as soon as I 
learned the difference between boys and girls, I knew 
you were the girl I wanted more than any other. 
Nothing's changed, except now I know what I want." He 
paused, his smile turning a bit menacing, and added, 
"Now I know how to get it."

"That's crazy, David," I said seriously, looking him in 
the eyes. "You can't have me in that way. Do you know 
that?"

"No, I don't know that at all," he answered, shaking 
his head. "I know how I make you feel when I touch 
you."

"That doesn't matter!" I replied emphatically. "I! Am! 
Your! Mother! Don't you understand that? Mothers and 
sons can't do what you want to do with me. They just 
can't!"

"Why not?"

"What do you MEAN 'why not?' Because they CAN'T!"

His smile was back, the dangerous one I didn't like. 
"You have a cunt," he told me, and I flinched a bit at 
the use of the vulgarity. "I have a cock. Cocks can go 
into cunts, and my cock wants to go into yours."

I knew he was trying to shock me with coarse language 
and I tried not to be shocked, but it didn't completely 
work – and even if I could ignore the language, the 
images it invoked were ones that were bound to be 
shocking, even to someone who'd been felt up by her son 
and felt him up in return. I was feeling helpless 
again, like a leaf before the storm that was my son, 
but I couldn't just give up and let him pull me along. 

I had to fight him, and I would fight him. I pulled my 
hand away from his and drew my knees up to my chest, 
wrapping my arms around them. "I need you to listen to 
me, David," I said as calmly as I could. "What you want 
is wrong. It will destroy me and it will destroy our 
family. If you really feel about me the way you say you 
do, then you can't want that. You just can't."

"I want to fuck you," he told me, leaning in so his 
face was just a few inches from mine. "I want to fuck 
you in every way I can think of and make you beg for 
more. I want you to think about me when I'm not around 
and be impatient for me to get back so I can fuck you 
again. I want that sweet little pussy I came out of to 
want me back in it, morning, noon and night. That's 
what I want."

"David, that's...that's crazy, David! Don't you 
understand how wrong it is?"

"I understand," he replied with a half a chuckle. "It 
makes it hotter, don't you think?"

I was fighting back the tears and I could feel myself 
losing. "But don't you even care what that would do to 
me? To your father and your sister? Don't you have any 
feelings for us at all?"

His wolfish smile said it all. "If this family burns to 
the ground, I'll stand back and laugh. But don't you 
believe for a second that you and Charlie are the only 
fuel I'll have to throw on that fire."

Tears were coming now, hot and shameful, squeezing from 
the corners of my eyes to roll unbidden down my cheeks 
as I demanded, "What do you mean?" 

He just laughed. "You'll find out when I decide to tell 
you. But that ought to be the least of your concerns 
right now, don't you think? I mean, tonight's going to 
be a big night!"

I was truly crying now. I was just astonished and 
appalled that the child I'd birthed and raised could be 
so horrifying. "I don't WANT that! Dammit David, can't 
you see how much I don't want you that way? Doesn't 
that mean anything to you?"

He laughed then, a mixture of scorn and merriment that 
was deeply unsettling. "I didn't mean a big night for 
you and me," he said. "Oh, we'll do some stuff, but we 
won't do anything that we haven't done before...unless 
you want to."

I felt my insides flip-flop. I knew that David was 
capable of making me want things that I shouldn't want, 
that I ought to hate – but it was obvious he wasn't 
referring to that. He had something else in that sick, 
wormy mind of his. "What are you talking about?"

"You," he said, still smiling, "and Charlie."

I felt my mind slip a little, the way your feet do 
sometimes when you step on a hidden icy patch and you 
almost fall but catch yourself at the last second. 
"Wh...what?" I stammered. "What do you mean?"

"Don't pretend I don't know what you want, mom," he 
whispered, his lips so close to mine that I could feel 
his breath against them. His eyes were huge and dark 
and lovely, even if they were also hateful and wicked. 
"I know how you want Charlie, and tonight you'll have 
him that way. He'll be inside you and you'll love it. 
You'll wonder how you ever lived without it."

I was stunned. "David... that's... that's sick..." My 
words sounded tinny and fake even as I spoke them.

He laughed, this time with no hint of malice in it. "I 
don't believe that, not for a second, and I know you 
don't believe it either. It's something you want but 
you feel like you have to fight against it. When you're 
with me, you don't have to fight."

"I...I..." I didn't know what to say to that.

"Now, you'll need help, especially the first couple of 
times," he counseled me sagely. "I'm sure he'll be 
willing, but until he gets the hang of it, you'll want 
someone there to aim him and make sure he stays where 
he's supposed to be."

"Where he's supposed to be?" I asked, my voice faint 
and sounding like a little girl's.

"Draped over your back," David explained, "filling you 
with his cum."

"Oh..." I whispered, my eyes huge and my mind a whirl 
of images. I was so stunned, and so aroused, that I 
didn't even think of pulling away when David put his 
lips on mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth. I 
kissed him back almost automatically as his fingers 
toyed idly with the blonde curls on the back of my 
head. I kissed him, yes, and I even unconsciously 
arched my back into his hand when he began playing with 
my breasts, but my mind wasn't on him at all. My mind 
was on Charlie, and on the needful thing that was 
suddenly, amazingly within my grasp. And so I let him 
kiss me and fondle me, which was nothing that he hadn't 
done before anyway, and when he pulled his mouth from 
mine I had a single question for him: "Do you mean it? 
You'll help me... and Charlie?"

He nodded. "I will."

"And I don't need to do anything with you that we 
haven't already done?"

"Not unless you want to."

I bit my lip, then after a moment said, "I...I need to 
think about this, David."

He smiled and kissed me again, this time on the 
forehead, and then left me alone with my thoughts. And 
what a miserable collection of thoughts they were! If I 
stayed home tonight then Charlie and I could – would – 
have sex. But I wasn't thinking of it as just sex, and 
not even just sex with a dog, which would be a huge and 
probably distasteful thing to most people; I was 
thinking of it as a summation, as a step I needed to 
take, as the fulfillment of a need that was so 
overwhelming and all-encompassing that I could feel it 
in my bones. 

I knew that I had always had the need, but that I 
hadn't known I'd had it made it all the more pressing 
now that I did know it – I don't even know if that 
makes sense, but it's the way I felt. I wanted Charlie 
inside me, wanted it as much or more than I'd ever 
wanted anything, and all I had to do was stay home from 
the party and it would happen.

But what else would happen? David was expecting 
something or planning something, that much was obvious 
– he didn't have a generous bone in his body and he 
wouldn't go an inch out of his way to help me fill this 
aberrant need unless he stood to gain by it somehow. 
And it was pretty clear to me how he thought he'd gain. 
He had the ability to make me lose control, and we both 
knew it. 

When he touched me like nobody else ever had, my self 
control disappeared and all thoughts of propriety went 
right out of my head. We'd do nothing we hadn't done 
before, he'd said, unless I wanted it – and that was 
the problem: he'd make me want it, and then when we did 
whatever we did, it would be on me and I wouldn't even 
be able to blame him for it or dodge responsibility. If 
I stayed home tonight, I would be taking a terrible 
chance that I would take us both over a line that 
needed not to be crossed, tonight or ever, and that I 
would regret it deeply and forever.

But the payoff...

I whimpered with the impossibility of the decision, and 
Charlie got up from his place at my feet and came and 
laid down next to me, his broad back against my chest, 
giving me the perfect support and love he always gave 
me. I put my arm around him and snuggled close, the way 
I always had with him, and felt his soft fur, his 
strong muscles, his heat, and his wonderful heart 
thumping in his chest. If I moved my hand just a little 
further down his belly, I could wrap my fingers around 
his sheath and feel his red cock inside of it...

I didn't move my hand there, but thoughts of it and 
everything else kept my mind turbulent and unsettled 
for the next hour. Should I go? Should I stay? Could I 
ever forgive myself for whichever choice I made? I 
didn't know, and I hated being in the position I was in 
and having the needs I had, but I was and I did and I 
suffered.

An hour later I heard the door open softly and Tim's 
voice whispered, "Honey? Are you awake?"

"I'm awake," I answered, rolling over and giving him a 
wan smile. 

He came and sat next to me, taking my hand. His face 
showed his concern – I wasn't sick more than once or 
twice a year – as he asked, "How are you, sweety?"

"I'll live, I guess."

He squeezed my hand gently. "Do you want to go 
tonight?"

Oh God. What could I say? What would I say? I didn't 
know even as I opened my mouth and heard myself say, "I 
don't think so, honey. I think I'll just stay home and 
rest. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he assured me, brushing the hair back 
from my eyes. "I'll tell Laurel that we're not going 
and we can just stay home tonight."

"No, I won't let you stay home," I said firmly and with 
more strength than I should have had if I was really 
sick. "Both you and Laurel have been looking forward to 
this all year and I won't have you miss it just because 
I've got a little bug."

"But Angela –"

"No buts," I insisted, squeezing his hand. "You'll both 
go and you'll stay until they throw you out. I mean it, 
don't you dare come home early just because I feel 
punk. I'm not dying. I'll be fine, but I don't want the 
guilt of ruining your night and Laurel's night. Go and 
have fun."

He smiled and kissed my hand. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure I'm sure. And besides, with me not there you 
can flirt with Steph Hentzel to your heart's content."

"Oh good Lord, without you there she'll be like a 
tick!" Steph was the girl Tim had broken up with right 
before he started going out with me, and although the 
flame had died on his end, she was still carrying the 
torch in a mighty way, or at least she acted like she 
was. She was also twice divorced with three problematic 
children, was an alcoholic, and not to be bitchy, but 
she had some real hygiene issues – like feminine 
hygiene, by which I mean smell, which is just gross. 
She was at the party every year and every year she 
threw herself at Tim like a hyena throws itself at a 
zebra. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of the 
contortions he'd need to do to stay clear of her. "I 
think you're staying home just to punish me with her."

I giggled softly. "You'll handle it like the big brave 
man you are."

"You're mean."

"I have a mean side, yes."

We both smiled at each other, and then he leaned in and 
kissed me – to my surprise, he kissed me on the lips 
instead of the cheek or forehead, something he rarely 
did anymore. There was no tongue and no passion, but 
there was love, and I loved him back. I still do, as 
much as I ever did. "OK," he told me in a whisper. "You 
stay in bed and rest. I love you."

"I love you," I told him as he left the room and left 
me in silence to contemplate how thoroughly I had just 
damned myself. I felt like crying, but I didn't. I did 
sleep, however, and Laurel woke me up when she came to 
get the blouse I had promised she could wear. She tried 
to take one of the scandalous new bras, but I warned 
her off, as much for poor gay Tony's sake as for her 
modesty – I was sure he wouldn't like having a pair of 
tits flaunted in his face all night, even if they were 
big, firm, young tits like Laurel's. She spent a few 
minutes giving her condolences, and then was gone. 

A few minutes later Tim came and showered. He stood 
unselfconsciously naked in front of me, the way a 
husband does in front of his longtime wife, and I 
watched him as he dressed. He has an amazing body, even 
now; it's firm and taut and muscular in an athletic 
way, not with big gym rat bulges but with the lean, 
long lines of a runner. He's beautiful, and I wanted to 
be sick at the thought of what I would be doing with 
the son he and I had created together as soon as he 
left. 

I felt sick, yes, but I could also feel a twitter of 
excitement in the pit of my belly and in the innermost 
part of my sex – the part where Charlie would be 
putting his cum, with David's help, very soon. I wanted 
Tim to stay and save me from the consequences of my own 
choices, and I wanted him to hurry up and leave so I 
could get on with what the evening held in store. It's 
amazing, really, that the human mind can hold such 
contradictory thoughts with such force and not snap. 

Laurel came up and kissed me goodbye, and I told her 
and Tim to have fun. I listened as the sounds came of 
them going down the stairs and out the door to the 
garage. The garage door opened, the car pulled out and 
drove away. I was alone with my son, exactly where I 
had put myself. I laid on the bed and cuddled Charlie, 
wanting what was to come to start this instant and 
never to start at all. 

It was only a few minutes later when David came into 
the room – he didn't knock – and said, "So you stayed."

I rolled over and looked at him. My voice was trembling 
as I said, "I stayed."

He smiled at me, and this time he used the warm, gentle 
smile that could make a nun's panties wet. "How about 
you take a shower and do yourself up real pretty," he 
said. "I'm having some dinner brought in."

I propped myself up on my elbows. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, picked some stuff up from Ristorante Luce," he 
said. 

"Luce? That's my favorite restaurant."

"I know," he replied. "Gourmet everything, a nice wine. 
You'll love it."

"You're not old enough to drink wine," I told him, 
feeling stupid even as I said it.

"I'm not old enough for a lot of things," he replied 
with a laugh. "I have a present for you. You'll like 
it. I'll have it laid out for you when you get out of 
the shower."

"A present?" I asked warily.

"Don't worry, it's a good thing."

"I'm not sure I believe you, David."

He laughed again, and said without a trace of 
resentment, "I'm not sure I blame you, mom. But it is a 
good thing, and you will like it. Go on and take a 
shower now, and do your hair nice." He took Charlie and 
left the room.

I had put myself on this path and now I had no choice 
but to obey. So I did, climbing into the shower and 
cleaning myself. I felt detached, sort of surreal, as 
though this whole thing were happening to some else and 
I was just along for the ride with no sense of 
responsibility or personal attachment. I shaved my pits 
and my legs and my pussy. 

I washed my hair and dried it – my hair has a little 
curl in it so I don't usually need to do much with the 
iron but I added a few extra curls just because. I 
wrapped a towel around myself and looked at myself in 
the mirror, knowing that tonight would see changes for 
me, and in me, that would be profound and last for the 
rest of my life. If I didn't need some of those changes 
so much I wouldn't put up with the others, but in for a 
penny...

I stepped out of the bathroom and saw, laid out on the 
bed, a slinky little white cocktail dress, and I mean 
slinky and little. It was semi-sheer and it would cling 
to every curve. It had a cowl neckline that tied behind 
the neck, a back that dropped to below the shoulder 
blades and had, down the middle, a series of rings that 
came down to the top of the butt, and a hemline that 
would cover my goodies and nothing else whatsoever. 
Next to it was a pair of silver sandals with rhinestone 
straps and four inch heels. 

I picked up the dress and looked at it – it was 
absolutely lovely, sexy as hell, and impossible for me 
to wear. Most men don't know this, and I'm sure my son 
didn't, but women who are over about 20 really can't 
wear tight white things. Tight black things, sure, and 
red looks fantastic on a lot of people, but white is 
brutally unforgiving. It shows every bump and bulge and 
ripple, every bit of cellulite and every ounce of fat. 
In this dress, I would look like a bag of dumplings. I 
appreciated the thought on David's part, but putting 
this thing on would be suicidal.

And then, suddenly, it struck me that looking like a 
bag of dumplings might not be such a bad thing. Yes, it 
would be crushing to my vanity and damaging to my ego, 
and no woman likes to look BAD, but in this 
case...well, it could be worse. Seeing me like this, in 
all my 35-year-old glory, David might just realize what 
he was putting himself in for. He might just decide he 
didn't want me after all. He might just back off and 
leave me alone, and the doom I had hanging over my head 
would go away just that fast! 

I can't say I was smiling when I put on the dress, but 
I was at least relaxed in a way that I hadn't been 
since this whole insane ride started. I didn't put on 
panties – they'd show through the dress, and by now 
David had seen and touched everything I had so there 
was no point in modesty. I had to admit the shoes 
looked very cute on me, though. I put on a little 
makeup, not much, and then went out to let my son be 
disappointed in me.

As I went downstairs, I heard soft jazz playing on the 
stereo and saw that the ground floor was only faintly 
lit by what looked to be candlelight from the dining 
room. Something smelled rich and savory and wonderful. 
Charlie was waiting at the foot of the stairs, tail 
thumping, and he eagerly stuck his nose under the dress 
and pressed it against my pussy. "Hey, you," I 
chuckled, pushing him away. "Don't get dark hair all 
over the dress, you silly guy. And be patient, you're 
going to have me tonight." He didn't understand a word, 
of course, but he was as happy as he always was when I 
spoke to him.

I followed my nose into the kitchen and found the table 
set with our best white tablecloth and our finest china 
and crystal. A bottle of wine was open on the table, 
and there was food that I loved: inslata mista, ravioli 
con zucca, nodino di maiale. The smell alone was enough 
to make my knees wobble and my stomach demand to be 
fed. David was there too, dressed in a suit that made 
him look five years older, setting a single red rose in 
a crystal vase in the middle of the table. 

He looked up and me and smiled automatically, but his 
smile froze and his eyes grew wide. He uttered a 
single, soft word: "Wow."

I stood in the doorway and shifted uncomfortably, 
knowing I looked awful in white and knowing my son was 
judging me harshly. It was going to be a kick to the 
ego, yes, but it needed to happen. I knew as much. 
Still, now that I knew he was staring at me and 
thinking how awful I looked, I felt myself shifting 
uncomfortably in my pumps. 

Nobody ever likes to look bad, and a woman tottering on 
the cusp of middle age is especially vulnerable to 
knowledge of her decline. Added to that was the simple 
but terribly powerful fact that I had spent my adult 
life feeling unattractive and unwanted; it was only in 
the last week that I had felt pretty and desirable, and 
that feeling was a small and fragile thing yet. Knowing 
how my son was regarding me was crushing that feeling, 
but it was a price I needed to pay. After a while – not 
nearly as long as it seemed to me, I'm sure – the 
silence got uncomfortable, so I lifted out my arms in 
something of a helpless gesture and said, "So?"

"So?" he asked. "Mom, you're...you're gorgeous, mom. 
I've never seen you look this beautiful, and you're 
always beautiful."

I blushed hotly and looked down at the floor. "You're 
making fun of me," I whispered.

"What?" He sounded baffled. "Why would I do that?"

"I look terrible," I replied.

He paused, then asked, "Why the hell do you think 
that?"

"I look like a bag of flour in this dress...don't I?"

He shook his head slowly as he walked up to me. 
"Nnnnnooooo, you don't. What's the matter, mom?"

I tried to speak, but suddenly I was crying. I didn't 
even know why except that I was feeling old and ugly 
and very uncomfortable at being so horny for something 
that was so wrong, and for being here with my son where 
that wrong thing and other wrong things were bound to 
happen. Tears rolled down my cheeks and all I could say 
was, "I can't wear white! I'm too old and it makes me 
look fat..."

And then my son's strong arms were around me, pulling 
me close against his tall, powerful body. I couldn't 
resist – I needed the hug too badly. I put my arms 
around his broad back and buried my face in his chest 
and felt like an idiot for crying, but I couldn't stop. 
"Mom," he said softly, "I've never seen anyone more 
beautiful than you are right now."

"Y-you're just saying that..."

"I'm not, mom. You're not just beautiful, you're 
perfect. You are perfect."

"I look lumpy..."

"Your lumps are in all the right places, mom."

"They're not! I'm too old for this dress!"

He stepped away, just enough that he could tilt my face 
up to him and make me look him in the eyes. They were, 
for a change, kindly, and so was his smile as he asked, 
wonderingly, "Do you really not know how you look?"

"I know I look like a sack full of dumplings...."

"Mom," he whispered in the precise tone I used to use 
for him when he was being silly as a young boy. "You're 
amazing. You really are, and if you don't know it then 
it's time you learned. Come with me." He took my hand 
and I followed him where he led me, into the foyer 
where there was a closet with a full-length mirror on 
the inside of the door. He flipped on the light and 
opened the door so my dumpy reflection was shining back 
at me, and I winced and looked down. "Oh no, don't you 
look at the floor," he scolded me softly. "Look at 
yourself and tell me what you see."

Much against my will, I did as he ordered me to do. I 
saw my reflection, and it was terrible. I looked 
foolish and ridiculous, like an old woman dressing like 
a young girl to try to recapture something that was 
forever gone. Tears started in my eyes again and I 
didn't answer him because I couldn't trust myself to 
speak.

"Mom," he whispered again, "tell me what you see."

Reluctantly, I said, "I'm old, David. I look old. There 
are...there are lines around my eyes. My boobs aren't 
as firm as they used to be and it's...pretty obvious. I 
need to lose five pounds, at least, and you can't hide 
that in this dress. I look bulgy and dumpy and...ugly. 
I look ugly, David!"

He stepped behind me then, pressing his body against 
mine, and I saw the reflection of his dark suit and his 
handsome face behind me. He encircled my body with his 
arms and put his hands on my tummy, one just below my 
breasts and the other lower, on the swell just above my 
sex. "Now," he whispered into my ear, making a lock of 
my hair rustle with his breath, "let me tell you what I 
see. I see a woman."

"An old woman."

"No, not an old woman, mom," he told me, his eyes 
locking onto the reflection of mine and keeping them 
locked. He had huge, beautiful eyes, and I couldn't 
look away. "You're perfect. And no, don't say a word. 
Just listen to me. Don't say anything until I tell you 
to, all right?" I nodded, and he went on. "You think 
you're old because you're not 17 anymore, but you need 
to listen to me and you need to hear me: I would take 
you over any 17 year old, 18 year old, 20 year old, any 
time, any day. You're a woman, mom. A WOMAN. You're 
some silly, stupid little girl with a head full of 
foolish ideas and a bony body. You're a mother – MY 
mother.

"You've lived, you had life inside you, you know what 
it's like to win and to lose, to have disappointments 
and victories. You can talk about something other than 
makeup and dancing. You say there are lines around your 
eyes? I remember what put those lines there. I remember 
you laughing, I remember you smiling, and I remember 
you crying too. Do you think those lines are there 
because of your age? They're not. They're there because 
you've lived. You've lived more than any idiot girl 
ever could have. They're there because you're wise and 
you're strong, wiser and stronger than any 18 year old 
I've ever known."

I was watching his face as he spoke, and I knew he was 
telling the truth. It was so obvious that it was 
unmistakable, undeniable. I didn't say anything – he'd 
commanded me not to – but I felt myself settling back 
against him, feeling his strong young body against 
mine. It felt very, very nice.

His big, clever hands moved against my belly, stroking 
me through the dress from the bottoms of my breasts to 
the top of my pubic mound, slowly and sensuously. I 
loved the sensation. "You know, I came out of here," he 
whispered to me, a pleasant smile curling his lips. "I 
was made here and I grew here. When you look at your 
stomach you can only see an invisible five pounds that 
nobody else can see, but do you know what I see? I see 
life, mom. Life itself. For me, for Laurel, for another 
baby, maybe. I see a woman who made her children though 
love and who loved them through everything, good and 
bad. After everything, you still love me."

It was a statement of fact, not a question, but I 
nodded anyway. I was getting weak and wobbly on my legs 
and leaning back against him more, but he didn't seem 
to mind – I could feel his cock begin to stir against 
my back, and kept my body against it and let it grow.

His hands moved now, up to my breasts. He cupped them 
through my dress and I felt my nipples hard and tight 
against his palms. He squeezed them gently and then 
took the hem between his fingers and pulled it down, 
freeing my tits. I didn't flinch. I looked at them in 
the mirror, pale and full, nipples darkening with 
desire, and I watched and felt as he took each nipple 
between forefinger and thumb and gave a firm tug. 
Pleasure rippled through me and I moaned softly between 
wet lips. "I suckled here. My lips went here..." he 
said, squeezing first my left nipple and then my right, 
"and here. I drew my life from you, the life you made 
and gave to me. You sustained me and I've loved you for 
it, for everything, for all."

I remembered him suckling my breasts as an infant – 
even now I remembered it as clearly as though it had 
just happened – but this was different now. Now his 
hands were large and confident and making me aroused. 
He knew how to make me aroused, more than anyone ever 
had, with a touch or a word. I knew I should fight it – 
I knew I had to fight it – but right now I couldn't. I 
didn't have the strength... and I found, to a mixture 
of dismay and satisfaction, that I didn't have the 
desire. He had taken that desire away from me and was 
beginning to replace it with desire of another sort. 
His hands drifted down and began to move up under my 
dress, between my legs, and I wanted him to continue 
and touch me in the way he knew how to touch me... but 
I stopped him. 

I placed my hands on his wrists and stilled them, then 
slowly let them go and turned in his arms so I was 
facing him, by breasts bare against his chest, his cock 
hard against my belly. I looked up into his eyes, 
because the question I needed answered had to be 
answered honestly and he was such a smooth liar that 
the only way I could be reasonably sure I was getting 
the truth was by reading his face. "David," I said 
softly and hesitantly, "Do you think I'm disgusting? 
Because of what I want to do with Charlie?"

His smile was soft and his eyes were truthful as he 
shook his head. "No, mom, I don't."

"Really?"

"Really," he replied, kissing my forehead and pulling 
me closer. "Tell me what you feel about him, about how 
he makes you feel."

His tone wasn't condemnatory, and it wasn't even 
curious. It sounded like he was asking me to prove a 
point, so I told him. "It's like... it's like I've 
always wanted him that way, or wanted a dog that way. 
Always, since I was old enough to want anything at all. 
I just never knew it. I never... I never had an 
experience, or came close to an experience, that would 
let me know what it was I wasn't getting. So I've spent 
my life with this... piece of me just missing. And I 
didn't even know it was missing." I paused and 
swallowed hard. "And then Monday when he... when he 
licked me, I suddenly knew what it was I'd needed. I 
knew what I was missing then and now that I know I 
don't think I can live without it. I really don't."

He shifted, his erection pressing more firmly against 
me, and I didn't pull away. "Is this what you wanted 
for yourself?" he asked. "I mean...if you could have 
picked what turned you on the most, what really 
completed you, would you have picked dogs?"

"No!" I said, surprisingly emphatically. "I can't tell 
anyone about this! Who would understand?"

"Besides me?"

"Yes, besides you," I nodded. "And look where it's 
gotten me now that you know. Even if I was a closet 
lesbian or...or someone who liked to be whipped, that 
would be more acceptable than this. Now I'm just a 
freak."

"I don't think you're a freak, mom."

"Well that makes two of us," I replied. "And that's 
probably just about it."

He smiled then. "You haven't really thought about how 
we're the same, have you mom?"

I paused. "What do you mean?"

"All my life I've had a hole that I couldn't fill," he 
told me. "A piece of me that was missing. You. But the 
difference is I knew what I wanted, I just couldn't get 
it, ever. I saw you every single day and I wanted you, 
I hurt for you. At night I'd lie in bed wide awake and 
think about what it would be like with you and knowing 
I'd never be happy unless I had you...and I'd never 
have you. Think about it, mom. Think about if you had 
discovered how you felt about Charlie but you couldn't 
do anything about it, not last Monday, not today, not 
ever. Think about if you saw him every day and spent 
time with him and wanted him so bad that most times you 
couldn't think of anything else at all...but you could 
never, ever have him. How would that make you feel?"

This was a view of the situation that I hadn't ever 
taken before, and for the first time since my son 
discovered my desires and I discovered his, I felt 
sorry for him. Genuinely, truly sorry. "It would drive 
me crazy," I whispered, my eyes locked on his. "Just 
thinking about it, I...I can't even imagine."

He was quiet for a bit, and then he whispered, "I'm 
going to kiss you, mom. I hope you don't pull away."

I shook my head. "I won't, baby. Kiss me."

He did, his lips settling on mine, his exhalation on my 
cheek. I kissed him back immediately, unhesitatingly, 
our tongues moving together. It wasn't a passionate 
kiss, though there was passion there – on both sides. 
Instead it was a kiss of recognition, of two people who 
knew each other so well but who at last saw each other 
for what they were and what they needed, and who each 
knew that they alone held the key to the other's 
satisfaction. A thought of David taking me in his arms 
and carrying me upstairs to his bed flitted through my 
mind, and for the first time I didn't recoil from it. 

It occurred to me, at last, that it might not be a 
terrible thing, or an utter perversity – or at least 
that his perversion was no greater than my own. The 
thought tumbled through my mind for a few moments as 
the kiss drew on, and then I pushed it away. It didn't 
revolt me as it had before, but I wasn't ready for that 
yet. I wasn't nearly ready, in fact, and I couldn't say 
for sure that I ever would be. I was still his mother, 
and I always would be, no matter that he wanted me to 
be his lover too. Some bonds can't be broken.

The kiss ended and he smiled at me, then he took my 
hand and led me to the dining room where the food I 
loved awaited. As I sat down I tucked my breasts back 
into my dress – despite a disappointed sound from my 
son – and we ate together. It was a wonderful, 
charming, and, yes, very romantic meal. David was 
blessed with immense charm that he could turn on 
whenever he wanted it, and he wanted it that evening. 
He had me laughing, he had me leaning into him to hear 
his words, he had me playing footsie with him under the 
table. 

I felt comfortable with him, really and truly, more 
comfortable than I had felt around him for many years, 
and it was a very good feeling. I felt I understood him 
more than I ever had, perhaps more than I had ever 
understood any man; the fact that we each had a taboo 
desire known to the other seemed to bring down the 
barriers that experience had placed between us. 

He was flirtatious, and I was flirtatious back – and 
more than flirtatious, like when, in response to a 
teasing dare, I pulled down the top of my dress, 
drizzled warm pasta sauce on my hard nipples, and let 
him lick them off. Not that he stopped at licking, of 
course; he sucked them, nibbled them, and pinched them 
as I moaned and lifted my chest into his mouth. At the 
same time I even put my hand between his legs and 
rubbed his thick and very hard cock through his 
pants...it was nothing that we hadn't done before, so I 
somehow felt it was all right to do it again. 

Charlie was there for the whole meal, of course. When 
food is eaten, Charlie is there, my own furry Hoover. 
We each gave him a little food from our plates, and he 
licked our hands when we did; it was impossible for me, 
as that astonishing tongue curled around my fingers, to 
think of anything but what the two of us had done 
together, and what we would do tonight, with David's 
assistance. It was very... odd, when I thought of it – 
my son and I were having a romantic and occasionally 
sexual dinner preparatory to him helping me fuck our 
dog. 

A week ago I would have been astonished at the thought, 
but now that I was in it, it was as though we were 
building our own little world together, just the three 
of us, a world where we each might get what we needed, 
or enough of what we needed to make us happy. David 
watched as I leaned in and let Charlie kiss me again, 
his tongue filling my mouth the way it does, and when I 
was done he told me that it was the most erotic thing 
he had ever seen. I blushed and looked down at my plate 
with a shy smile, but I was delighted that my son 
thought that seeing it was good. Not only had I found 
my passion, I had found someone I could share it with.

When dinner was done we made quick work of the cleanup. 
I washed the dishes and put them away, and David put 
the good tablecloth downstairs in the wash so I could 
attend to it when we were done, then he took the food 
boxes and the empty wine bottle out to the trunk of his 
car. In a very few minutes there was no evidence of our 
rendezvous...and we were ready for what would come 
next.

I confess I had no idea what to expect. Yes I had seen 
the videos on the site that David had signed me up for, 
but those were edited, their dogs were trained to mate 
with humans, and they had a whole experienced crew 
there ready to assist. This was just the three of us, 
and none of us had ever done anything like this before. 
I was nervous, wondering if it would work, if Charlie 
could be coaxed to climb atop me and put his cock 
inside me and take me like he'd take a bitch dog or if 
it wouldn't work at all and I would finish the night 
more frustrated than I was at the beginning. The 
thought of the first possibility was intoxicating, but 
the chance of the second kept me from getting too 
excited as I finished tidying up the kitchen and dining 
room.

David came back into the house, a smile on his face and 
his cock tenting his pants. He took me in his arms and 
I pressed into him unashamedly, gratefully even, and 
looked up into his face. "Thank you for tonight, baby," 
I told him. "Whatever happens...thank you."

"You're very welcome, mom," he replied, hands massaging 
my ass through my dress. "Are you ready?"

"God yes," I whispered fervently. "I can't believe how 
much I need this. I've never needed anything this 
much."

"Then go into the living room and take off your 
clothes," he told me. "I have another present for you."

"Another one?" I grinned. "You're spoiling me."

"You deserve to be spoiled," he told me, then swatted 
my ass to get me moving. "Go on now, get undressed and 
wait for me in the living room, you and Charlie."

I squeezed his hands and then did as I was told, 
heading to the living room and untying the trap behind 
my neck. The dress dropped to the floor and I bent to 
pick it up –

Charlie didn't waste the opportunity of having my pussy 
bare and stuck in the air that way. The instant I bent, 
he was there, nose against my sex and tongue pushing 
inside for the wetness that was there. "Oooohhhh good 
boy," I cooed, spreading my legs and bracing myself 
with my hands on my knees. It felt amazing, and not 
just because he's so skilled with his tongue; it felt 
amazing because for the first time in my life I knew 
what I needed and wanted and felt liberated to get it. 
If I wanted to have Charlie lick me, then I could. If I 
wanted to have Charlie fuck me, David was there to 
help. 

My son would be coming down from his bedroom very 
shortly with a gift for me, and not only did I not mind 
if he caught me this way, I wanted him to. I wanted him 
to see me taking what I needed because only he in all 
the world knew, only he understood. I felt safe with 
him at that moment, safe knowing that I would not be 
condemned for taking this pleasure and filling this 
need, and I felt safe knowing that he would find it 
arousing to see me this way. I began to think that even 
if we wouldn't wind up in bed together (certainly we 
wouldn't tonight and maybe we wouldn't ever), then at 
least my son deserved something special for accepting 
me, loving me and helping me through this. Something 
that he'd been wanting for a long, long time...

I was still moaning on Charlie's tongue and grinding my 
ass back against it when David reappeared with an old 
bedsheet draped over one arm and a shopping bag in the 
other. He stopped when he saw me and we exchanged 
knowing, lustful smiles. "Well that's a sexy fucking 
sight," he told me. "Do you like how he licks you?"

"I love how he licks me, baby," I told him, wiggling my 
ass and panting with desire. "His tongue is so amazing. 
I can't even describe it... but it... aaaahhh yes... it 
moves inside me. It twists... it fills me... it's 
soft... and strong... and rough... he presses his teeth 
against my lips...oh god baby it feels so fucking good 
when he does me this way!"

He moved in front of me and bent to kiss me; I opened 
my mouth eagerly for his tongue and just as eagerly 
reached between his legs and put my hand on the bulge 
in his pants. I unzipped him and had my hand inside his 
pants in seconds, wrapped around that magnificent piece 
of meat he kept there, stroking it adoringly. I was 
going to come tonight, and so was my son. We both 
deserved it. He kissed me and I stroked him, my hand 
moving up and down his hard cock as Charlie licked my 
pussy and my ass, and at that moment it seemed to me so 
perfect that I never wanted any of it to end.

But end it did when David pulled away. Reluctantly I 
took my hand out of his pants. "Do you like my cock, 
mom?" he asked playfully.

"How should I know?" I teased back. "I haven't seen it 
in years."

He was watching my face when he asked, "Do you want to 
see it?"

I looked right back into his eyes and answered, without 
hesitation, "Yes, baby, I want to see it. I want to see 
all of you. Take off your clothes for me, baby."

The smile on his face was so very much like it had been 
when he was little and he saw the presents spread under 
the tree on Christmas morning. It just melted my heart. 
At that moment I loved my son as much as I ever had. He 
shed his suit coat, draping it over the back of an easy 
chair, and loosened and removed his tie with an elegant 
gesture that made me giggle even as I was gasping on 
Charlie's tongue. 

He unbuttoned his shirt, cuffs first and then his body, 
and I watched avidly as his powerful young chest and 
flat tummy came into view. He was gorgeous, and as he 
removed his shirt and tossed it to the side I watched 
the strong muscles ripple beneath his skin and I 
understood how he was able to make the local housewives 
crumble; for a neglected woman on the wrong side of 30 
to have a young Adonis like that hot for her? Yes, he 
could get into almost any housewife's panties that he 
wanted. 

As David bent over to untie his shoes, Charlie stopped 
licking me and went over to see what was going on – as 
I've said, dogs are great lovers but stupid – and my 
efforts to call him back by patting my ass and pussy 
were fruitless. So I simply stood up, hands on 
insolently tilted hips, feet apart, giving my son 
something to look at as he undressed. And look he did 
as he took off one shoe and then the other, his eyes 
paying special attention to the bare little cleft 
between my legs. 

I didn't hide it – far from it, in fact, because at 
this moment, feeling what I felt, I loved that he was 
looking and I loved that I was making him hard. It 
seemed, I thought, the least I could do for what he was 
about to do for me. And I had no intention of just 
settling for doing the least, not anymore.

When he straightened up and began to undo his belt, 
David had to have seen the avidity in my eyes, and 
there was no way he missed me licking my lips. I told 
you before that I love to look at cocks, and that the 
cock of my dreams was inside those pants. I had felt 
it, hot and throbbing and gloriously thick, and now I 
wanted to see it. He teased me, the little bastard, but 
I didn't mind. I loved how he was tenting his pants and 
for once I loved that I was the one putting that tent 
there. He wiggled a bit and I giggled; Charlie figured 
this was all a new game and pranced, causing David to 
ruff his ears and me to pet his back. The three of us 
were sharing something special tonight.

When David unzipped his pants and let them fall, my 
breath caught in my throat. He was standing before me 
in just his underwear, navy blue boxer briefs that 
hugged his ass and his groin. He turned, showing me 
that hard, beautiful backside as he tossed his pants 
across the chair back, and I almost felt dizzy that 
such perfection had come out of my body. At that moment 
it didn't even occur to me that Tim had the same 
perfect body, that in fact from the neck down, cock 
excepted, David was almost a carbon copy of what his 
father had been at that age. 

In fact, from this point on I don't think Tim entered 
my mind once until we had finished. I know that sounds 
monstrous, that I could do what we did without ever 
once thinking of my husband, but it was easier that way 
– much easier. Tim had been dead to me sexually for so 
long that it was almost impossible for me to think of 
him that way then, and David and Charlie had grounded 
me so much in the moment that I don't think I could 
have thought of anything but the three of us if I had 
tried. And honestly, I didn't try.

I held my breath as my son turned back to face me, 
thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. I know 
he was watching my face, but I didn't take my eyes off 
his crotch as he slowly, slowly pulled down his briefs. 
I saw his pubic hair, dark and full, come into view, 
and I watched as his underwear got hung up on his 
erection...

And then it came into view...no, it exploded into view. 
The instant the underwear went down past it, it bobbed 
free and I gasped. I had been right: it was the cock of 
my dreams. It was maybe halfway past seven inches, 
standing proud and straight and wrist-thick from his 
body. There was no curve to it. The veins, pulsing and 
throbbing, stood in hard relief against the velvety 
skin. The head was pronounced but not flaring... just 
enough to get the tip of the tongue under and make him 
tremble. It looked proud, powerful, and so masculine 
that if I hadn't already been dripping, I'd have gotten 
wet just from looking at it. Underneath it hung a pair 
of balls that I instantly adored: heavy, full, round, 
dangling, full of his seed. I knew instantly how those 
balls would feel in my hand if I were to hold them, and 
I knew instantly that I could bring my son to his knees 
by lifting those balls up and running my tongue along 
that ultra-sensitive spot where they met his perineum. 

His shorts hit the floor and he stood for a moment, him 
watching me stare at his perfect nakedness. I couldn't 
take my eyes off of him and I didn't want to. I wanted 
to drink him in and keep the image of him just this 
way, naked, aroused, seen for the first time. After a 
long moment of me devouring him with my eyes, though, 
he shifted a bit uncomfortably and asked, in an 
adorably uncertain voice, "Well? Am I OK?"

I looked up into his eyes and gave him a smile that was 
strange for how it mixed maternal pride and utter lust. 
"Yes, baby, you're more than all right," I told him, 
watching the relief and he joy spread onto his face. 
"You're gorgeous. I've never seen a more gorgeous man 
naked."

"I've never seen a more gorgeous woman naked."

My grin got mischievous. "You know, after this I'm 
going to have a hard time seeing you with clothes on. 
I'll always be sneaking peeks at you!"

"Whenever you want to see me this way, all you have to 
do is ask," he told me. "Do I get the same privilege?"

I nodded. "Yes, baby, whenever you want and it's safe 
to do it. If you like looking at me this way, you can. 
I promise."

He stepped up to me and put his arms around me, and for 
the very first time the head of his hard cock nuzzled 
at my belly. I loved the way it felt, just like I loved 
the way he took me to him so commandingly and so 
certainly. This was the first time we kissed when both 
of us were naked, and it was a memorable kiss. By 
breasts against his chest, his hands moving on me, my 
fingers around his cock lazily stroking while my other 
hand cupped his balls, our tongues wrapping around each 
other slowly at first but then faster and more 
urgently, his hand slipping between my legs and sliding 
a finger against my clit...almost immediately I was 
ready to cum and I was more than willing to have him 
bring me there...but he stepped back and smiled. "I 
told you I have a present for you," he said, picking up 
the shopping bag and holding it out.

I opened the bag and... well, I'm not quite sure what I 
was expecting but I wasn't expecting what I got. The 
first thing I found was an oversized tee shirt dyed in 
a garish dark blue and pale yellow pattern, like a tie 
die if the dyer that made it was both lazy and stoned. 
I looked at it quizzically and glanced at David, who 
was grinning like the Cheshire cat. I held it up and 
looked at it... and it was truly hideous. "Ummm... OK," 
I said slowly. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, 
but..."

"But?"

"But...um... well I really like the white dress you got 
me..."

He laughed heartily and took the shirt out of my hands. 
"Take a look at what else I got you."

I did – it was a pair of jeans, an old and faded one 
that looked like it had been purchased at a second-hand 
store. I lifted them from the bag and held them up... 
and immediately saw that the crotch had been crudely 
cut away; if I put them on, they would have left my 
pussy bare but covered pretty much everything else. 
"Well," I said, "I can see I won't be wearing this to 
the store."

"No, that's not what they're for," David chuckled.

"All right, I give up," I told him. "What are they 
for?"

"These," my son told me, "are your dog fucking 
clothes."

"My...dog fucking clothes?" I asked. "Why do I need 
clothes to do that?"

"Haven't you ever noticed Charlie's claws?" he asked, 
grinning. "Do you really want to try to explain to dad 
why your back and thighs and ass are all covered with 
big red scratches?"

"Ooohhhh, no," I said slowly, the utility of the 
clothes dawning on me. "I definitely don't want to do 
that..."

"And not only that, but the only time you're going to 
wear these clothes is when you want to get busy with 
Charlie."

"Darn, and here I was thinking I'd wear them to church 
tomorrow."

His grin was salacious. "Now that's an image worth 
thinking about: you with your pussy hanging out in 
church. But the point is that he'll associate these 
clothes with sex, and so once we get him trained he'll 
know that when you're wearing them, you want him to 
mount you and fuck you like the dirty little bitch you 
are." I gasped at his crude language, but it wasn't a 
gasp of shock; in fact, a ripple of illicit pleasure 
shot through me at my son speaking to me that way. 

"And even more important," he went on, "he'll learn 
that when you're not wearing these clothes, you don't 
want to. That way you won't have to worry about him 
knocking you down and tying with you when you have 
grandma over. That's why I picked a shirt with a big, 
bold pattern on it – he's colorblind, but that's such a 
recognizable pattern than he'll learn pretty quickly."

I gazed at my boy with frank admiration. "You think of 
everything, don't you?"

"I like to be prepared," he chuckled. "Ever since I 
found out about what you like I've been doing some 
reading on the internet about how women can have sex 
with dogs. I think I understand enough to make sure you 
have a good time tonight."

"Well, you have earned a special treat," I told him, 
stepping close to him again and putting my hand on his 
cock. "One I think you'll really like, in fact."

"Oh, do tell..."

I laughed. "Nope, that's my surprise. So I'll put on 
these clothes..." And I did, dressing in the ridiculous 
outfit as David spread out the old sheet. He explained 
that dogs cum so much that they make a huge mess, so 
having a floor covering would make cleanup easier. It 
all seemed more than a bit surreal, being here with my 
naked son, dressed in "dog fucking clothes" and getting 
ready to mate with my beautiful family pet – in fact, 
now that we were on the edge of it, events seemed to be 
moving both too fast to understand and too slow to 
tolerate. 

I wanted to be on all fours immediately with Charlie's 
cock lodged in my body and experiencing the blissful 
orgasms I knew I would have, but part of me also 
screamed out to stop, to take a breath, to put a halt 
to this whole crazy parade until I could get hold of it 
and make sense of everything that had happened. 

But I couldn't stop now, not when I was so close to 
something that promised such fulfillment – and beside 
that, a small voice inside me told me that it was 
impossible to stop anymore; I had placed myself in a 
stream that was moving faster and faster and all I 
could do as hope to hold on and keep my head above 
water while that stream took me to wherever it would 
go. I was no longer my own master and I knew it.

And so I put on the absurd tee shirt and the crotchless 
jeans. As soon as David had spread the sheet on the 
floor Charlie sat down proudly in the middle of it, 
claiming it as his own, and I sank to my knees next to 
him. He immediately began thumping his tail and threw a 
brawny shoulder into me that almost knocked me on my 
ass. After all, the main time anyone got on the floor 
with him was to play, and he was already pretty sure we 
were playing some new game... and we were, just not the 
sort he expected. I laughed and put my arms around his 
neck, hugging him and feeling the softness of his fur 
and the heat of his body. 

It struck me then, and not for the first time, what 
marvelous creatures dogs really are. Charlie had no 
concept of future or past, no idea of the passage of 
time, no worries for tomorrow or regrets for yesterday. 
He was of the moment, purely and simply, and physically 
THERE in a way that few men could ever be. And truly, I 
reflected, one wouldn't want a man (or a woman, for 
that matter) to be so grounded in the present instant 
and in his own body. To be human was to have knowledge, 
to realize that there's something beyond the now. 

In giving myself to Charlie this way I was surrendering 
that part of myself, at least temporarily. I was giving 
up on consequences and the future, sacrificing all of 
it for a moment of communion with a fellow creature 
that was so different from me. Different, yes, but no 
less. As I looked into Charlie's loving eyes I knew 
that I was finding a soul mate just as surely as anyone 
ever had. I was going where I needed to go, where my 
body and my mind and my soul all commanded me. There 
was a part of me that only Charlie, or maybe only any 
beautiful and perfect dog, could truly reach, a need in 
me that only he could fill. With him, I was going home.

I looked down along his belly and saw his sheath. Just 
the very tip of his red cock was poking out, much less 
than an inch, and I felt the same giddy thrill that I 
had before when he had gone after Nosey, the same giddy 
thrill that had started all this. But this was 
different. Now I was going to have that red cock inside 
me. Now I was going to take that giddy thrill to a 
whole new place. I watched his face as I reached 
between his forelegs and took his sheath in my hand. It 
felt so warm, so perfectly soft, and underneath it I 
could feel hardness. David was watching me with a smile 
on his face, but I didn't mind. 

In fact, I loved that there was someone to share this 
moment with – someone, that is, besides Charlie. After 
all, I couldn't very well talk this over with Charlie 
when I was done; and he would keep my secret, true, but 
because he had no choice. There would be something 
wonderful about sharing this secret with my son, just 
as we shared the secret of his desire for me – or so I 
thought at the time. That I turned out to be wrong 
doesn't make the feeling I had then any less profound.

And so I began to stroke Charlie's sheath and I watched 
his eyes get big with surprise and pleasure. I could 
feel the skin sliding over the hardness underneath, and 
I was amazed and thrilled at how different it all felt 
from a human cock. When a man is soft, he's soft all 
the way through, not just on the outside. His junk 
flops, it bends, and generally it's inoffensive when it 
isn't erect. 

With Charlie, though – and, I've since learned, with 
all dogs – there was hardness beneath the softness, and 
even though it felt pencil-thin inside his sheath I 
knew from the pictures and the movies I saw that it 
would get bigger, thicker, longer... and I knew that 
there was a thick bulge part way down, a magnificent 
knot that would get him stuck inside of me, gloriously 
stuck inside of my body while he loaded me endlessly 
with his cum. I almost swooned. And it didn't take long 
for Charlie to begin to respond; as I watched more and 
more of his cock appeared, bit by bit, until nearly two 
inches of red, slick, amazing dog cock was showing.

"You like that, don't you?" David whispered in my ear 
as he crouched beside me to watch what I was doing. 
"You like the feel of a dog's cock in your hand."

"Yes," I breathed, a little dizzy with the sensation. 
"I do like it. It feels... it feels very naughty..."

"Very naughty and?"

"...and very right," I finished for him. "Completely 
right. The rightest thing I've ever felt. David, I want 
him hard. I want him inside me now. Can you help me?"

He kissed me on the neck and I tilted my head to let 
him tease the tender flesh. "You want me to help you 
fuck him?"

"Yes baby, I want that," I whispered, my voice getting 
quieter as the intensity of what I was feeling 
increased. "Please..."

"Then tell me," he whispered back. "Nice and loud, so I 
can hear it. I don't want you to be ashamed of this. I 
want you to own it, to be proud of it. I want you to 
tell me exactly what you want me to do."

I didn't hesitate, just like I didn't take my eyes off 
of Charlie's sheath and the bit of redness protruding 
from it. I spoke not quite in a shout, but definitely 
in a loud and certain voice: "I want you to help me 
fuck Charlie, David. I want you to help him get inside 
me and stay inside me. I want to feel it. I want to 
have him draped over my back all hot and panting. I 
want to feel his cum inside me. I want you to help me, 
baby. I need you to you help your mother now."

He reached around and squeezed my breasts through the 
ridiculous shirt and whispered, "On your hands and 
knees, mom. Now."

I hurried to obey, and Charlie stood up and regarded me 
curiously as I assumed the position. David was there to 
guide me. "Spread your legs a little, you want to be at 
the right height for him to get into you easily and you 
want to have a steady base when he gets on top of you. 
Put your chest down, almost on the floor, so your ass 
sticks up and your pussy is at the right angle. That's 
it. Christ, you look so hot like that I'm tempted to 
fuck you myself!"

"You're always tempted to fuck me," I chuckled. "Now be 
a good boy."

He made some adjustments to my stance and I took 
careful mental note of everything he did. I wanted to 
be able to repeat this easily when my son wasn't 
around, after all. By the end I was positioned like a 
whore, legs splayed wide, ass and cunt tilted up 
saucily, tits resting on the floor to give my back a 
seductive curve; my last act was to look over my 
shoulder at Charlie in a wordless invitation to mount 
me. It was, I thought, a look a male of any species 
ought to understand!

I think Charlie understood well enough – he was 
breathing heavily, almost panting, and he was pacing 
around my back end. But he was uncertain too. This was 
the first time I had ever offered myself to him, after 
all, and indeed it was the first time he would ever 
mate. He had the instinct and the desire, I knew, 
because his cock was still poking two inches of red out 
of his gray sheath. But he was also intimidated – after 
all, I was the leader of his pack, so to speak, and 
being invited to mate with the alpha female was 
probably a little confusing for him, the poor dear. 

David tried patting my ass and my lower back but all 
Charlie did was look worried. After a bit, he took a 
step toward me and sniffed my sex; I waggled my butt in 
what I hoped was an enticing way, but he just gave me a 
tentative lick and stepped away again.

The initial buzz of excitement and expectation was 
starting to fade, and an unsettling voice of doubt was 
growing inside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. 
"Doesn't he want to?"

"I think he does," David said soothingly. "It's just 
this is new for him and he doesn't know how to go about 
it."

"But...what if he won't?" The idea was positive 
crushing, after all the buildup and expectation and 
need I felt. To be here, in this position with my 
lovely dog and my willing helper of a son, only to have 
Charlie turn up his nose? The very idea was awful!

"Shhhh," my son whispered, running his hand along my 
ass and then down between my legs to stroke my pussy 
and get some of my juices on his fingers. He held his 
hand out to Charlie, saying, "We just need to give him 
the right idea, that's all. You'll be Charlie's bitch 
in no time."

The vulgarity, the image, and the sheer casualness and 
acceptance with which my son said those words sent a 
shiver of illicit delight down my spine and made my 
pussy spasm. "Say...say that again," I whispered, 
closing my eyes.

I felt David's hand on my sex, teasing me open and 
slipping a pair of fingers inside; I squeezed down on 
them and pushed into him, fucking him back as he began 
to pump me. He leaned in, pressing his body against 
mine and rubbing his erection against me. "You'll be 
Charlie's bitch," he whispered again, his voice thick 
with lust. "He's going to take you just like a bitch 
dog in heat, just exactly like you are – a horny bitch 
dog who wants to get fucked by his big, hard red cock. 
Aren't you?"

"Ohhh yes," I moaned, listening avidly to his words and 
the sloppy suction sound his fingers made as they 
pumped me. "I'm a bitch dog in heat..."

"He's going to put that cock into you and load you up 
with his cum," he continued, placing his lips on the 
back of my neck and kissing me there. "He's going to 
tie with you and you'll be stuck to him, his prisoner, 
his slave..."

"Ohhh fuck baby yes...yes that's what I want... I want 
it so bad..."

"Your cunt will be a dog's cunt, your body a fucktoy 
for a big horny dog..."

"Yes, yes, keep fingering me, keep telling me..." I was 
on the edge of a massive orgasm and I needed it not to 
get away. I need to cum, and I needed it from my son. 
Not from Charlie, not at that moment, but from David. I 
needed to give him the gift of my orgasm to thank him 
for what he'd done for me, just like I'd thank him with 
his orgasm later. I wanted him to know he'd made me 
cum. 

His fingers moved harder, faster, deeper, slamming into 
me as I slammed back. "And he's going to take you again 
and again," he told me fervently. "From now on you're 
nothing but a bitch, nothing but his hole to fuck, 
nothing but a dog to serve his needs. That's what you 
want, isn't it?"

"Yes!" I cried, biting my lip. 

"And from now on you're gonna give him this hot little 
bitch cunt whenever he wants it, however he wants it, 
all the time..."

"YES!"

"He's gonna pump you full of cum and keep you full of 
cum with that big fucking knot and his big fucking cock 
and you're going to have a belly full of dog sperm..."

"YES! YES!" And I came, hard, shivering, pushing back 
into my son's hand and picturing his words, picturing 
Charlie's semen spraying into me, filling me, trying to 
find my eggs. I screamed in sheer rapture, and I'm glad 
I was already on my hands and knees with my tits on the 
floor because if I'd have been standing when that 
orgasm took me I'd have pitched over onto my face. 

And that was when Charlie mounted me.

Now, as I've mentioned before, dogs fuck like nothing 
else on earth but they are, frankly, dumb as bag of 
hammers. Charlie had been taken by my scent, by the 
passion he smelled and saw and heard, by my touch of 
him and by the cries I gave, and so he finally climbed 
atop me and started to hump. Unfortunately, he mounted 
from the front, putting his forelegs around my shoulder 
and pumping his sheathed cock into my hair. I looked 
up, surprised, and all I could see was heavy doggy 
balls waving back and forth a few inches from my face. 

"Ok, well at least he has the idea," David chuckled as 
he disentangled Charlie from around my body and put all 
four feet back on he floor. Charlie immediately tried 
to hop up again but David was ready; he caught him and 
steered him to my backside. I made sure I was in the 
right position, legs splayed, pussy canted and dripping 
and ready, chest low and breath held. I was still 
buzzing from the orgasm David had given me and I knew 
that it would swell and explode again once I felt 
Charlie inside me. 

I knew that I was about to have an amazing experience. 
David patiently guided Charlie so he was behind me and 
for the first time I felt his weight settle on my hips 
and back, felt his fur brush against my waiting ass, 
and felt the thrill beyond words of that hot, hard red 
cock brush across the lips of my eager, needy pussy. I 
drew air into my mouth in a hot gasp and waited.

And Charlie hopped off and wagged his tail.

I moaned again, this time in pure frustration. Even 
David seemed a little surprised, but he tried to coax 
Charlie back by patting my ass. Charlie mounted me 
again, this time from the side; I'd have needed a 
colostomy to have a hole where he tried to get inside 
me. 

"This should be natural!" I wailed. "How do dogs ever 
manage to make puppies, anyway?"

David was laughing now, which only pissed me off. 
There's nothing so irritating as someone laughing at 
your intense frustration, and when you're frustrated at 
the edge of getting something that you need as bad as I 
needed Charlie at that moment, it's even worse. Still, 
he guided Charlie back to my ass, lifted him up and 
wrapped his legs around my waist again. Charlie looked 
at him amiably, wagged his tail and tried to dismount; 
but David held him on. I heard my son mumble, "Trying 
to figure this out here..."

"It's not going to work, is it?" I asked despairingly. 

"Sure it is," David replied confidently. "We just need 
to teach him what's what, that's all. Let's see..." I 
felt his hand go under, between me and Charlie, and 
from the motion I thought he was jacking Charlie to get 
him excited. Before I could ask what was going on, 
though, I felt Charlie start to hump. And oh my Lord, 
did he hump, fast and hard, slamming his furry legs 
into the backs of my hips. David pulled his hand away 
and I felt the hard, pointed tip of Charlie's cock 
poking at my thighs. I gasped hard and braced myself 
for the penetration I was certain was coming –

He climbed off of me again. 

"Oh for the love of... dammit!" I snapped, looking over 
my shoulder to see my dog, my lovely, desired lover, 
wagging his tail and grinning as though he was 
inordinately pleased at himself for what he'd 
accomplished. "This is the most... frustrating thing!"

David didn't laugh this time, which kept me from 
killing him, but he was smiling when he took Charlie by 
the collar and guided him back. This time, though, 
David positioned himself behind Charlie so he could 
keep him from dismounting. Once more my dog settled 
onto my back and clutched at my waist with a hard grip; 
it's amazing how strong his skinny little forelegs are! 
Immediately he tried to hop off but David was there and 
stopped it, and this time I reached one hand back and 
grabbed his leg too – he wasn't getting off until we 
both did, so to speak. 

"This time definitely, mom," David whispered as he 
reached underneath and started to jack Charlie again; 
Charlie immediately started to hump.

"I want him so bad, baby," I whispered.

"I know, mom," my son assured me gently. He guided 
Charlie forward a couple of inches.

I felt his cock hit my labia. Not much, just the tip 
and only for a second, but it sent a jolt through me 
like I'd stuck my tongue in an electrical socket. It 
was one of the most thrilling things I had ever felt, 
and it was repeated an instant later, and again and 
again. He was so close! "Just... just a little to 
the..."

And then it went in.

How can I explain that moment? It wasn't as though I 
had been thinking about it my whole life, because the 
first I had ever seen Charlie as a sexual creature was 
less than a week ago and I hadn't really started to 
wonder whether I could make this happen until just this 
morning. It wasn't as though a childhood dream had been 
realized. And yet...and yet. Like I've explained, there 
was an aching, painful gap inside of me and had been 
since I was young. It was a void that I hadn't even 
known about, but it was so profound that it had made me 
unhappy without my even knowing it all my days. 

The first instant when I felt Charlie penetrate me and 
I knew that there was a canine penis inside my vagina 
was the most transcendent moment I have ever 
experienced. That void I had borne all these years was 
suddenly not a void any more. The empty spot in my soul 
had been filled. I've heard people talk about religious 
experiences; I've never had one myself and I never 
understood what they meant by being completed by a 
force outside of yourself, being swept up and carried 
to a new place you never could have gotten to on your 
own. But now, in this instant, I understood. It was 
more than physical, it was more than emotional. It was 
spiritual. I really, truly, honestly believe that and I 
always will.

The moment seemed endless but really it was only an 
instant that hung in my mind because of the way it made 
me feel. Charlie certainly didn't pause to give me time 
to contemplate, though. He pushed into me, and what I 
felt, the actual physical sensation I mean, wasn't 
thrilling. If felt like a pencil being pushed into me, 
honestly – it was thin and short, and if I'd had the 
time to mentally compare it with the pictures and 
movies I'd seen of those meaty dog cocks I'm sure I'd 
have been disappointed. But he didn't give me time.

He hammered me hard and fast, harder than any man ever 
had and faster than any man ever could. I think the 
physical feeling that struck me the most was the way 
his sheath felt as it pushed against my sex; it was 
warm and furry, such a strange feeling like I'd never 
had before there, and I remember distinctly to this day 
(in spite of all the many, many times and many dogs 
I've had since) how it felt that first time. 

Now that he was inside me, though, things started to 
happen fast. Charlie pumped me swiftly and with each 
thrust he seemed to grow inside me. Every time he 
humped me he pushed in deeper, and on every backstroke 
it seemed as though the cock he was pulling back was 
thicker than the one that had gone in. I heard him 
panting, a strange sound that I've since come to adore; 
it's a mixture of heavy breathing and whining, and now 
that I know it's the sound of canine pleasure it's 
music to me, but then I do recall a passing thought 
flicking across my brain that wondered if he was all 
right. All right or not, though, he wasn't stopping.

I had spent the afternoon wondering what this moment 
would be like for me and I had imagined myself 
participating more, pushing back onto him as he fucked 
me or wiggling my hips or something, but he really 
didn't give me the chance. The fact is that dogs fuck 
so beautifully hard and fast that once one is inside 
you, all you can do is brace yourself and hold on. And 
having no other option, that was exactly what I did: I 
pushed my arms into a position that would stop him 
pressing me forward with every thrust and I just took 
what he gave me.

Now, that's not to say that I was a silent partner in 
all this – far from it. The instant I first felt him 
inside me I gave a sound that was something like a 
cross between a squeal and a wail. It wasn't something 
I'd planned and in fact it was sort of an embarrassing 
noise but... well, I was being screwed by a dog, for 
God sake. You can't really be responsible for the 
sounds you make when that happens. I fell into his 
rhythm, or rather he forced me into his rhythm by 
battering my little cunt with everything he had, and 
with every thrust he wrenched a squeaky little gasp 
from me. 

They came so fast, one after another, that I was almost 
hyperventilating. I just couldn't catch a breath 
between them! And then suddenly I was coming, not so 
much from the physical sensations (Charlie's cock was 
still a bit on the tiny side when my orgasm hit me) but 
because of what I was doing. Charlie, my dog, my love, 
was inside me. I had what I needed and my body simply 
responded the only way that made sense to it – it threw 
itself over the edge into pure, rapturous bliss. My 
staccato gasps turned into a long, guttural throbbing 
moan.

Usually when I orgasm, especially when the orgasm is as 
profound as that one, I sort of lose track of time; 
hell, I've been known to lose consciousness. But I 
remember every bit of this one, every single second, 
every movement, every breath, every smell and every 
sound. I remember how Charlie kept pounding me at that 
incredible, impossible rate. 

I remember the first moment I knew his knot was in me, 
swelling and growing, and I remember the first instant 
it got big enough that it began to stretch me from the 
inside. Lord, that sensation! It was unlike anything 
I'd ever felt, inflating, expanding, but still moving, 
still hammering deeper, harder, faster; at each instant 
the knot felt so big that I couldn't believe it could 
get bigger, but the next instant it was bigger still. 

Nerves I had no idea I possessed flared into life and I 
knew that I wouldn't be satisfied with them going back 
to sleep again; I had tasted this ambrosia and I would 
have to keep tasting it, now and forever – simply, I 
was addicted to a dog's cock. I remember the first 
touch of the end of his cock against my cervix, pushing 
it open; it wasn't pleasurable or even comfortable, but 
knowing that Charlie was deeper in me than any cock had 
ever been was an unspeakable thrill. 

But most of all I remember the feeling of his cum – or 
at least I thought it was his cum, though now I've 
learned the difference between a dog's cum and the lube 
he squirts before he comes. The body of a dog is a few 
degrees warmer than a human's; you can feel it when you 
run your hand along his skin. Normally it's just a 
pleasant but unremarkable fact – but when a dog's cock 
is inside of you it feels like fire, like the sweetest 
fire imaginable. And once he gets hard, a dog will 
squirt his pre-cum, more than one squirt a second in 
what seems like an impossible and endless amount. 

I have no idea how a dog can produce that much stuff, 
but he does, and when his cock is buried in the deepest 
part of your cunt you can feel each and every squirt. 
Each and every squirt. I wish I had the words in my 
vocabulary to tell you how that feels, but I don't. 
I've tried many times and I've never come close, but 
I'll try again. It feels like lava, like molten steel, 
but it's the best sensation in the world. It keeps 
flowing and flowing and flowing and you can feel 
yourself filling up with it. 

There comes a point where you feel full, where you 
think that your pussy simply can't hold another drop 
and it must explode out of you – but his knot keeps you 
bottled up tight. Certainly, a few drops escape to flow 
down the insides of your thighs or drip to the floor, 
but that's nothing compared to the amount his balls 
pour into you. You're already stretched out around a 
cock that fills you like no human cock ever could and 
then you stretch some more, and more, and more, and you 
keep stretching. And if that sounds painful then you're 
wrong – it's exquisite. It's divine. It's like reaching 
out your hand and touching the face of God. It's like 
coming home. And that doesn't even begin to describe 
it.

So there I was on my hands and knees, impaled on 
Charlie's cock and coming like a banshee. I came so 
hard I felt like my skin was moving on my body, like my 
heart was going to explode, like my lungs were filled 
with fire. I wanted nothing more than for my sweet dog 
to keep pounding me like that forever...but he didn't. 
In fact, he only humped me that way for a couple of 
minutes or maybe even less; at any rate it wasn't long 
at all, even though it felt much longer as I came 
around him. 

My orgasm could have continued but when he stopped 
fucking and fell motionless my orgasm slowed and 
stopped too; it didn't completely subside, but it 
dropped into sort of a pre-orgasmic sweet, sticky flow, 
like my insides were filled with warm milk, and I knew 
I could – and would – come again, and soon. Charlie was 
straddling me, motionless and panting, his sides 
heaving, his breath loud. 

I knew from the labored sound of his breathing that his 
tongue was out, and after a few moments I felt a wet 
spot growing between my shoulders: he was drooling on 
me, and for an instant I wished fervidly that wasn't 
wearing this ridiculous tee shirt so that I could feel 
his spit on my skin. I wanted all of him, from his cum 
in my cunt to his fur on my ass to his drool on my back 
and in my hair. I loved him, pure and simple. 

David might have been speaking before that, but I 
didn't hear him. The first I realized he was talking to 
me was when he whispered, "So how does it feel, mom?"

I had laid my head on my crossed arms, and I turned it 
to look at him. I gave him a dreamy smile and said, 
"Baby, it's the best thing I've ever felt."

"Honest?"

"Honest. Thank you so much for giving this to me. I 
never could have done this alone."

He smiled and stroked my hair, wet as it was with sweat 
and dog drool. "You look beautiful, you know? Stuck to 
him that way, his for as long as it takes to finish 
filling your womb with his cum."

"Mmmmm," I purred. "I feel beautiful. I can feel him 
coming inside me. He's so hot and there's so much of 
it..."

"Just lie there and feel it, mom," David urged me 
quietly. "He's going to be stuck this way for a long 
time."

"How long?"

"Well I guess every dog is different, but...well, ten 
minutes to half an hour."

"Oh my God," I whispered. That was the sexiest thing I 
had ever heard, being impaled on Charlie's knot and 
tied to him for thirty minutes, helpless to move until 
his cock got soft enough to come out on its own. "I 
want to cum again..."

"Put your hand on your clit and make yourself cum 
then," he smiled.

I smiled back. "Why don't you do it for me, baby?"

He looked like I'd just given him the best gift he'd 
ever had. He smiled hugely and his beautiful face lit 
up like Christmas morning. "I'd love to," he told me, 
"but I've got one hand on Charlie's ass and the other 
on his leg. I'm holding him in. I really don't think 
you'd like it if he tried to pull out right now with 
his knot stuck in you this way."

"Mmmm, well I owe you a chance to rub my clit then," I 
chuckled.

"I'll take a rain check," he chuckled with me, "and 
you'd better believe I'll collect on it too."

"I want you to, David," I told him as I shifted enough 
to slide a hand back along my belly and one finger on 
either side of my clit. "I think I'll want you to do it 
for me a lot from now on."

I touched myself then, and the warm feeling I had in my 
tummy quickly flared up again and turned into another 
climax, a rolling sort of climax that had peaks and 
valleys but didn't stop for a long time. When I started 
to cum again and my insides spasmed around Charlie's 
cock, he began to move again, fucking me just for a bit 
and pushing his shaft and his knot even deeper into me. 
It was a heavenly, perfect experience, and the fact 
that I was sharing it with my son made it all the 
better. He was still coming inside me and I could feel 
that mass of sperm in my abdomen, like I had suddenly 
developed a pot belly; to know that I was so loaded 
with my dog's cum that I was actually showing the 
effects was an aphrodisiac like none other. I kept that 
orgasm going for as long as I could until the pleasure 
began to fade and the sensations became too much, and 
then I pulled my hand away and rested my chin on my 
arms as before and simply enjoyed being tied to my 
lover. 

I stayed that way for eighteen minutes. Eighteen. Just 
there, on my hands and knees, my dog inside me the way 
I had always craved. It was eighteen minutes of simple 
wordlessness, eighteen minutes of feeling and 
experiencing and marking everything to memory so that, 
no matter what would come in the future, I would always 
have this moment. I started to ache after a few 
minutes, because the position was unnatural, the wood 
floor beneath me was not cushioned by the bedsheet, and 
75 lbs. of Charlie on my back wasn't exactly 
comfortable after a few minutes. 

But I didn't complain; the pain as part of the 
experience, and in my lingering afterglow it felt like 
something I needed to have, not quite as penance for 
the pleasure he'd given me so much as just a way to 
ground me and make the whole thing feel real and 
honest. Of course the ache kept growing such that by 
the end I was in a hell of a lot of hurt, but that was 
still all right. I'd correct it next time, with 
cushions or maybe a low padded stool to rest my chest 
on, but for now it was all right just to be tied and 
feeling what my dog was giving me.

After a while, of course, he stopped coming, but his 
cock didn't start to shrink immediately. 

It remained hard and lodged deep inside me, giving me a 
wonderful still fullness that seemed not ready to end 
now or any time in the near future. In fact my 
afterglow wore off to the point that I was just 
considering reaching back and rubbing out another 
climax when he tried to pull out of me. Now, he was 
maybe a little bit softer than he had been at his 
hardest, but... yikes. It felt like he was trying to 
yank my pelvis out through my coochie! My whole body 
rocked backward with the effort and I gave a startled 
yelp of surprise and pain (bad pain, not the good kind 
of him on my back); it was only David's hand that held 
him on.

"What's wrong?" David asked anxiously. "Did that hurt?"

"Owwie, owwie, owwie," was my reply. "He's still way 
too big inside me to get out without tearing me wide 
open!"

"OK, just relax," my boy counseled me. "I've got him by 
the butt and by the leg so he won't go anywhere I don't 
let him. All right?"

"All right, I'm fine," I replied. "It was just 
surprising, I guess."

We were quiet for a bit, and then David told me 
something very surprising: "Mom, I'm really proud of 
you."

I turned my head to look at him and cocked an eyebrow. 
"Because I fucked a dog?"

"Yes," he nodded.

I couldn't help but laugh, and laughing felt good right 
then. "That's a heck of a reason to be proud of 
someone, kiddo."

He didn't laugh back. "You don't understand, mom. It's 
not because you did it, exactly. It's because you did 
something that you needed to do. It was unknown, a 
little scary. It was hard and it was taboo. Like you 
said, most people wouldn't understand this. But you had 
the courage to do it because you needed it. That took 
some guts."

My expression had turned from puzzlement to love, and I 
felt myself melting inside for my son. "Baby, 
that's...that's a beautiful thing to say to me."

"I mean it, mom."

"I know you do."

We shared a smile. He stroked my hair. Charlie got 
smaller inside of me and a few minutes later he was 
fidgeting like he wanted to get off. "You can let him 
off me," I told David. "I think he's OK."

"Are you sure?"

"No," I laughed, "but we'll just see how it goes."

David took his hands away and I braced myself, and 
within a few seconds Charlie gave a tug. It was a hard 
tug still, and I felt my opening stretching in a way I 
hadn't felt since Laurel had come out of there 15 years 
before. I pushed back and tried to relax but there was 
only so much I could do. There was a bright flash of 
pain and a loud, sloppy noise, and then he was out of 
me.

I've always loved the feeling I got when a man pulled 
out of me after a fuck. That feeling of being 
stretched, of my pussy having accommodated itself to 
his size and shape, of simply being open. But I had 
never felt anything remotely like this. I was spread 
wider than I had ever been after sex, and deeper, and 
it felt like there was a marvelous vacancy all the way 
up to my lungs. But more than that, much more, was the 
flood of juices that came out of me when Charlie took 
his cock away. It was a gush, a sloppy wet mess that 
exploded delightfully out of me and spattered across he 
backs of my legs and onto the bed sheet beneath me. 

Had I known, of course, that there had been a hell of a 
lot of cum inside me – I'd felt every drop – but I 
still hadn't been prepared for this. I squealed in 
thrilled amazement as it flowed out and kept flowing 
out, as my body emptied of my juices and his and the 
marvelous mixture they had made. It was almost enough 
by itself to give me another orgasm, and if I hadn't 
been so shocked by it I could have bought myself off 
with the barest touch.

"Holy... fuck," David said in awe. "That's the hottest 
fucking thing I have ever seen in my life..."

I opened my mouth to reply but my words were drowned 
out by a gasp of pleasure as Charlie put his tongue up 
inside me again. And began to lick. He was seeking the 
rich blend we had created together, but at the time the 
sensation was so unexpected and so overwhelming that I 
had no chance of thinking about it even remotely 
rationally. I got my last orgasm of the night then and 
I didn't' have to do a thing except sit there and feel 
that superb canine tongue licking me inside and out. I 
screamed my release and kept screaming until it was 
done.

"God damn it mom," David said softly and delightedly 
when Charlie pulled away and walked over to the corner 
to lie down, lick his cock, and fall asleep. Ah, 
typical male, no conversation afterward...

I just grinned up at my son. "Help me up," I told him, 
and he did, guiding me slowly to my feet and keeping 
his hands on my arms for the few seconds it took my 
legs to stop wobbling.

"How do you feel?" he asked, hands still stroking the 
skin of my forearms. His eyes were glowing with love 
and lust, satisfaction and need, and I adored the way 
he looked at that moment.

"I feel fantastic," I told him. "I feel like I've 
finally gotten what I've always needed. I feel fucked 
out and used hard and I love it." I paused, then added, 
"And I feel like I want to be naked. Undress me?"

His grin was all the answer I got or needed, and in a 
moment he had my shirt up over my head and off. He 
crouched in front of me and opened my crotchless jeans, 
pulling them down over my hips and letting me put a 
hand on his shoulder to steady myself as I stepped out 
of them. At this point, any hint of modesty in front of 
my son would have been ludicrous, so I didn't' bother. 
I stood in front of him, bare as the day I was born, my 
shaved and well-fucked cunt gaping and dripping dog cum 
three inches in front of his nose, and I watched his 
horny face as he drank me in. 

He was going to say something, but I cut him off. "Now, 
I think you deserve a thank you for tonight, and for 
understanding."

"Mom, it's nothing to..."

"Shhhh," I whispered, putting a finger across his lips. 
"Stand up." He did so, his eyes sparkling. I'm pretty 
sure he knew what was coming. At any rate he definitely 
figured it out when I locked eyes with him, wrapped my 
hand around his cock, and slowly sank to me knees in 
front of him.

"Mom," he said delightedly, cradling the side of my 
head in his big, sure hand. "What in the world do you 
have in mind?"

"Mmmm, don't you know?" I asked, looking up at him with 
wide eyes and casually stroking him.

"No, I'm really confused," he told me guilelessly, his 
eyes wide. "Why don't you tell me?"

I extended my tongue and flicked it lightly across the 
very head of his cock, just a quick touch, barely a 
caress. But his cock leaped in my hand, something that 
made me very happy. "Well... I think I'm going to suck 
this beautiful cock of yours," I told him, never taking 
my eyes off his face. "I'm going to put my mouth on you 
and suck you until you cum for me. And if you want to 
grab me by the hair and fuck my face like a cunt, you 
can do that too."

His smile got huge at the invitation to treat me a 
little rough, and I knew I was in for a face-fucking. 
The very idea was thrilling, my own son using my mouth 
for his pleasure! I wasn't ready yet to have him inside 
my sex, but I was more than ready for this. He stroked 
my face and asked, "And where do you want me to cum?"

"Where do you want to cum?"

His grin got very naughty indeed. "How about your 
pussy?"

I responded by putting the tip of my tongue at the base 
of his shaft, immediately above his balls, and running 
it right up the big vein on the underside until I came 
to the head; I flicked my tongue underneath it 
teasingly and said, "Now be good. If you want to cum on 
my tits, you can. If you want to cover my face with it, 
you can. If you cum in my mouth I'll swallow every drop 
you give me, I promise."

"God damn," David sighed, looking down at me. "Do you 
have any idea how many times I've imagined you like 
this? Naked, on your knees, my cock in your hand and 
getting ready to suck it?"

"Tell me how often," I whispered back as I placed the 
flat of my tongue on the base of his cock and began to 
swirl it around the thick, meaty rod. I wanted to hear 
his words when I sucked him because I knew they would 
be lewd, sensuous, crude, and that was what I wanted. I 
wanted to revel in this moment and let my son revel in 
it too, and to do that I wanted to strip away every bit 
of artificiality and gentility. I wanted it to be raw, 
urgent, needful, just the way Charlie had been for me – 
because just like David had helped me fill my need with 
Charlie, now I was filling one of David's needs; I 
wanted it to be honest for him, and to be as 
unforgettable as my own experience was. 

I felt his hand curl in my hair. He wasn't controlling 
me, not yet, but he was sending me a signal that he 
would take control and use me when the moment struck 
him. I loved it, and I loved it too when he growled, 
"I've thought about this every day. Every single day 
for years. I've wanted you this way, wanted you ready 
to please me. I've wanted you to want to please me. 
I've wanted you on your knees begging for my cock."

I arched an eyebrow. "Begging?"

"Begging."

My smile was salacious and my eyes were fiery as I took 
my hand away and laid it on my knee. He had earned 
this, and if he wanted me to beg for the chance to suck 
him then I would beg. I made my eyes wide and desperate 
and said, "Please, baby. Please let mommy suck your 
big, fat cock. I want it so bad!"

I was just playing a role for him, of course, but the 
look on his face made it more than worth it. There was 
such bliss there that I almost thought he would cum 
without me touching him again, but after a moment 
something else came into his eyes, something hard and 
masterful that made me shiver...and not entirely in a 
good way, though I only thought of that later. He 
wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and held it 
out to me, and I obediently opened wide and stuck out 
my tongue. I expected him to put it in my mouth, but he 
surprised me by putting it against my cheek. 

I kept my mouth open, uncertain about what he was 
doing, but he didn't put it there; instead he began to 
rub it over my cheeks, first left and then right. He 
dragged it across my nose, across my chin, up onto my 
forehead. I felt that thick, warm piece of meat move 
across my skin, leaving a trail of precum on my face to 
dry cool. I could smell his arousal, the masculine 
smell of his semen, and couldn't help but wonder if his 
tasted different from Tim's. I closed my eyes and let 
him do what he wanted, but it wasn't until we were 
finished and I was in bed that I realized what he had 
been doing then.

He was marking his territory. 

"Open your eyes," he ordered me, his voice sharp and 
strong, and I did as he told me. He towered above me, 
and our eyes were locked in lust. I waited, hungry to 
take him, and he made me wait for a handful of 
heartbeats. And then, firmly, he said, "Suck my cock, 
slut."

I did. Without hesitation I put my lips around the end 
of him and hollowed my cheeks, caressing him with my 
lips and flicking him with my tongue. My hands came up, 
one moving around to cup his ass and the other cradling 
his heavy, pendulous balls in a gentle caress. For a 
long, sweet moment I savored the feel of him in my 
mouth, savored his heat and the texture of his skin, 
and then I began to take him deeper into my throat, 
inch by slow inch. 

I have to say here that I was hardy an expert 
cocksucker then. I've developed much more skill since 
then, of course, because I've practiced on a lot of 
different cocks in a lot of different circumstances, 
but then I had little enough skill and what skill I had 
was rusted from disuse. But what I lacked in technique 
I tried to make up for in enthusiasm and willingness, 
because I wanted this to be a wonderful thing for my 
son. I kept my lips tight around him and let my tongue 
dance, flicking and dashing along every bit of him I 
could reach. I made the tip hard and pointed and ran it 
up under the crown. I caressed the big vein and I 
reveled in the feel of every ripple and whorl of skin. 
I felt his heartbeat against my tongue. 

I delighted in his warmth. I took him in as slowly as I 
could, building gradually, wanting him to last a long 
time so that his orgasm, when it finally came, would 
take the legs out from under him. He grunted as I 
hollowed my cheeks against him, and he gasped when I 
teased his balls with my fingertips. I wasn't skilled 
enough then to keep from gagging when I took the whole 
thing in my mouth, so I choked a little as my lips took 
the last couple of inches inside and held them there, 
snug against his body and my nose buried in his pubic 
hair. I drew back...

And then he started to take me. His hand locked firmly 
in my hair and held me in place and he began to rock 
his hips into me, pumping his cock in and out of my 
mouth. I knew he was going to do this – I had almost 
told him to – so it came as no surprise. And besides, 
at first he was gentle enough. He fucked my mouth long 
and slow, letting my work on him with my tongue on the 
in and on the out. 

I kept my eyes on his face, watching him to see what he 
liked and what he didn't, but to tell the truth I think 
he was so enthralled at finally having me this way that 
the finer points were lost on him. I tried to keep my 
hand on his balls but as his pace picked up I couldn't, 
not without hurting him anyway, so I put both hands on 
his ass, squeezed his cheeks, and let him screw my 
mouth. 

And that was exactly what he did. He may have started 
out slow and easy but he didn't stay that way for long. 
Within a few moments he was thrusting harder, pushing 
himself into the back of my throat with every plunge. I 
couldn't do much to please him that way except keep my 
lips tight and try to make sure my tongue was out of 
his way, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't even 
mind when a particularly hard thrust made me gag a bit 
– in fact, I think he liked the fact that he was making 
his mom gag on his cock and I was doing nothing to stop 
him. 

To tell the truth, I liked it too.

He didn't last long, certainly not as long as he would 
have liked, but then when you're realizing a life's 
ambition you're inclined to get a little excited. His 
pace was fast, his hand holding me motionless and his 
balls slapping against my chin, and I could see by the 
look on his face that he was fighting to hold back his 
orgasm – and losing the fight. I wondered where he 
would cum, whether he would put it in my mouth or pull 
it out and spray it onto me; either way would be a 
delight for both of us. 

I squeezed his ass cheeks, trying to tell him that he 
was doing fine – I'm not sure whether the message got 
through or not, but his thrusts got faster and harder, 
his breath coming in ragged little gasping moans as he 
sucked air past his clenched teeth. "Fuck mom," he 
snarled, "this feels so fucking good! I've wanted this 
for so fucking long!"

"Mmmmppphhh," was all I could say with a mouth full of 
incestuous cock, so that was what I said, and I swirled 
my tongue in my mouth in an effort to give him more 
sensation; I doubt that I succeeded, but it was the 
thought that counted.

"Oh God oh God oh God," he muttered softly over and 
over as he screwed his eyes shut tight. His chest was 
heaving, he sounded like a steam train with his 
staccato breathing, and his hand was so tight in my 
hair that it hurt, but I didn't mind a bit. My son was 
going to cum for me and I loved it. "I'm gonna...I'm 
gonna...oh fuck mom..."

"Mmmmmmpppphhhh!" I moaned emphatically, hollowing my 
cheeks to suck him hard.

"Gonna...gonna cum..." And then he did. The mystery of 
what he would do with it was solved when he pushed deep 
into my mouth and held himself there for one heartbeat, 
two, three. I tried not to breathe so I wouldn't retch 
at the intruder in my throat. He sucked in a deep 
breath and held it. His cock leaped in my mouth, 
twitched and spasmed. He moaned deep and hard and 
gutturally...

His cum exploded into my mouth. And I do mean it 
exploded. There was a blast of it that doused my 
throat, its salty tang inundating my senses with its 
sheer power. *Different from Tim,* my mind told me, and 
in an instant I amended it: *Better...* He was 
delicious. He drew his cock back enough that I could 
swallow what he was giving me, but there was so much of 
it, it was so thick and rich, and it came so fast that 
I almost had it overflow my lips and dribble down my 
chin. 

But swallow I did, as rapidly as I could, and after 
what seemed like an endless number of spasms and 
squirts, my boy stopped orgasming and I could start 
sucking him again. I had told him I wanted every drop 
he had and I meant it. My tongue and lips and cheeks 
started working again, and now he was too spent to do 
more than stand there on wobbly legs and take it. He 
kept his eyes closed as I milked the last of his seed 
out of him, but a satisfied smile crept across his 
face. He licked his lips and said, softly and 
adoringly, "You dirty little whore... you sweet little 
cocksucking whore..."

Before David, no man had ever really talked dirty to me 
before. I was discovering, though, that I like it...a 
lot, in fact. I gave a delighted laugh around his cock 
and kept sucking until there was no more sperm to be 
had, then leaned back on my haunches and gave him a 
self-satisfied smile. He opened his eyes and looked 
down at me, and I up at him, and we stayed that way for 
a happy heartbeat until I asked, wide eyed and 
innocent, "Did you like that, baby?"

"Oh Lord..." was all he managed to say, and we both 
laughed. It was an amazing moment in time – I had my 
dog's sperm drizzling out of my cunt and my son's sperm 
in my belly and I had fulfilled at least some of the 
dreams of two people. The taboo of what we had just 
done didn't even enter my mind. I was as happy as I had 
ever been, right then and right there. It was the 
perfect instant. 

And then David's distracted, dreamy smile slowly 
changed into something very, very different, and I 
recognized it as the smile he wore when he was about to 
do, or had done, something terrible. My own smile froze 
on my face and I wondered at his expression.

And then he calmly walked across the living room to a 
shelf on the opposite wall. It was a shelf where I kept 
knick-knacks and gewgaws like a crystal bird and a 
couple of books that were there for show and not 
reading. I didn't even have time to wonder what he was 
playing at before he reached up and took something 
small and inconspicuous from behind the bird. He turned 
and held it out to me, and when I recognized what it 
was, my blood froze inside me and all the good feelings 
I had about the night vanished in a single second.

It was a spy camera. 

"Amazing things, these little gadgets," he said 
cheerfully. "They give a great quality picture, rigged 
up to send wireless to a DVR."

My eyes got enormous. "You!"

He laughed at me. "Got the whole thing too. You stayed 
framed in the shot just perfect, I'm sure."

"God damn you, David!"

"If I thought he existed, I'd be worried," he grinned, 
tossing the camera up and catching it on the way down. 
"But if I were you, I'd be more worried about me."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "David...how 
COULD you?" I demanded, trying to keep the tears at 
bay. "Why would you do that when we did what we just 
did?"

"For posterity," was his cheerful, evil answer. "Oh, 
and for insurance. Now that you've gotten what you 
wanted, well, I thought you might not be so eager to 
give me what I want. And I can't have that."

"You...MOTHERFUCKER!" I howled, leaping to my feet. I 
was still wearing those damned stilettos though, and I 
nearly pitched over onto my face. 

"Not yet," he said calmly. "But I will be."

The profanities I hurled at him as he walked laughingly 
up the stairs aren't really fit for print, and to tell 
the truth I'm not sure they even made much sense. Pure, 
unadulterated betrayal and rage can make a person 
incoherent. But he ignored me like I wasn't even 
there...

And suddenly I had to puke. I clamped my hand over my 
mouth and sprinted to the bathroom, leaving a trail of 
dog jizz all the way. I made it to the toilet just in 
time to lose all my son's cum and the wonderful dinner 
we'd shared. I stayed over the toilet for a long, long 
time, crying and trying not to completely lose my shit. 
I am ashamed to report I failed in that. 

But panic only lasts for so long, and when it was over 
I had a mess to clean up. I heard David come down the 
stairs and slam the door behind him as he left, and the 
sound of the door closing jarred some sense into me. 
Tim and Laurel were going to be home soon and I 
couldn't let them find the living room the way it was, 
or me the way I was. I cleaned myself off with a towel 
and then used it to wipe up the dog sperm that had 
wound up anywhere but the old sheet.

My "dog fucking outfit", the slinky little white dress, 
and David's suit and underwear wound up wrapped in that 
sheet, which I ran upstairs and shoved deep beneath my 
bed until I could figure out what to do with it. The 
shoes joined it, and in a flash I was in the shower, 
letting the scaldingly hot water wash over me and 
trying to rinse and spit the taste of humiliation out 
of my mouth. 

I was in bed when, at hour and a half later, Tim and 
Laurel got home. I heard the door close downstairs 
behind them and I heard their laughter. I heard Tim's 
footsteps on the stairs as he came up to check on me. 
He poked his head into the darkened room and said, 
"Honey?" but I pretended to be asleep, just like I 
pretended to be asleep a couple of hours after that 
when he came to bed. He drifted off quickly, his faint 
snore familiar and comforting next to me, his body warm 
beneath the sheets of our marriage bed.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. 

To be continued?

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 62