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Almost Gone Forever
by Anal_King (samnitebc@yahoo.com)

***

A son goes in search of his mother who was abducted 
three years before. He travels halfway around the world 
to find her. Will their love be enough to overcome the 
obstacles which await them? (MF, nc, rp, v, 1st, inc, 
anal)

***

It's been three years since my mother disappeared from 
our lives. I was the last person to speak to her; she 
called my cell phone to let me know she'd be running 
late. She was getting her nails done in preparation for 
the annual Christmas party, given at the company where 
my dad worked at. My mom, as always, wanted to look her 
best. She was supposed to get her nails done then pick 
up a new dress. Well... it didn't happen that way.

Mom never came home that night and repeated calls to 
her cell phone proved fruitless. When she hadn't shown 
by midnight, we really began to worry. My dad phoned 
the police but they told us we had to wait a minimum of 
forty-eight hours before they could declare my mother 
as a missing person. After several months had passed, 
the authorities suspected someone had either kidnapped 
my mother or she had gotten herself into a situation 
where she become injured and couldn't ask for help.

Naturally, such news did nothing to allay our fears. We 
did everything we possibly could to find her. My dad 
even hired a private investigator but he came up empty. 
When that didn't pan out, we asked our local television 
station to run her picture; this caught the attention 
of dad's old college buddy who happened to be watching 
the news when they ran my mother's picture. He 
recognized my mom and immediately called dad. He worked 
for the F.B.I. and offered to do a few checks as a 
favor for us. But when he came up empty, we lost hope 
of ever seeing her again. Then... a miracle of all 
miracles happened:

I found her...

It was purely by chance and it happened when I surfed 
for porn one night. I clicked on a link promising 
pictures of women with large, round asses because 
that's what I like, especially the mature kind, and 
several windows popped up covering the screen. I hated 
when that happened but that was the price one had to 
pay for downloading free material. It wasn't until I 
closed the second to last window when my eyes widened 
in interest. 

There was a picture of a M.I.L.F. wearing a black 
thong, thrusting her ass toward the camera. Her cheeks 
were round and inviting, making me wish I had the 
ability to transport myself to the time and place when 
the picture was taken so I could fuck the shit out of 
her. My dick had already formed a tent in my pants, 
waiting to be released from its cramped space. I saved 
the picture and went in search of some more. This time 
I found one of her face, and that's when my world 
turned upside down.

It was my mom! I was sure of it. Her face looked worn 
and vacant and there were a few extra wrinkles around 
her eyes, but it was definitely her. She was sitting on 
a red settee with her long, shapely legs crossed at the 
knees, wearing a see-through negligee. The caption 
below the pic read Lenora but the rest of the words 
were in a foreign language I couldn't read. I felt 
excited and confused; I didn't know whether to jump for 
joy and inform my dad or wait and see until I found out 
more. Since I didn't want to raise any false hopes, I 
decided I needed to gather more information. I was 
ninety-nine percent sure it was mom, but I needed to be 
certain. I think what was throwing me off was the fact 
that the woman in these photos looked to be about 
thirty pounds less than the weight my mom was carrying 
the time she disappeared. 

The first thing I needed to do was get the website 
translated. Luckily for me, I knew the king of 
gearheads at my college; his name is Harold; we met one 
day in the school cafe. He sat alone at the only empty 
table available. I parked myself across from him and 
struck up a conversation; I think he was surprised 
someone other than a geek wanted to talk to him. I 
could tell Harold was self-conscious about his face, 
which was severely covered in acne. I pretended I 
didn't notice and kept my gaze only on the area between 
his eyes when we talked.

During our lunch that afternoon, I explained the 
fundamentals of good nutrition, educating him on the 
proper way to eat. I guaranteed Harold that if he 
removed dairy, greasy foods, and sugar from his diet, 
his face would clear up in no time. He listened but I 
didn't think he would follow my advice, which is not 
surprising. Most people are slaves to their palates and 
a change in their diet can be very difficult for them. 
So, you can imagine my surprise when I ran into Howard 
two weeks later. His acne was all but gone save for 
some small patches here and there. To say he was elated 
was an understatement. Harold couldn't contain his 
excitement. I felt happy for him. The poor guy deserved 
a break.

That's when Harold mentioned if there was anything I 
needed in terms of computer help, free software, 
hacking--whatever. I was to come to him. Ever since 
then, I've run into Harold a few times around campus. 
His acne is now gone and he seems more confident as 
well.

The day after discovering mom's pics, I went in search 
of Harold; I eventually found him sitting under a tree, 
studying his notes. I asked if he could meet me at the 
library later this evening. I thought if anyone could 
help me find my mom, it would be him. Howard readily 
agreed and said he would swing by. I never told Harold 
about the disappearance of my mother before, but when 
we met that day, I clued him in on all the particulars 
including my suspicions.

"No problem Rick. I have a program that can translate 
any modern language into English. However, finding the 
location of the computer that is uploading data into 
the server which houses the pics of the woman--I mean 
your mom--will take a little more time." 

"Do you think you'll be able to pull it off?"

"Don't worry, Rick. I can do it. You'll see."

For the next hour, Harold explained what he planned to 
do. After the words "ip address" and "router" left his 
mouth, I pretty much lost him after that. Again, he 
gave me his assurances and that was good enough for me. 
I took my leave and headed home. 

On my way home, I cut across the park admiring the lush 
trees and soft grass. I thought a change in scenery 
would help me clear my mind. The wind blew strong and 
its sound filled the hollow of my ears. I watched the 
sky slowly dim as the people in the park began making 
their way home. The footpath I was on led me to a still 
lake lined with blue benches. I sat down and stretched 
my arms out to the sides, enjoying the solitude 
afforded by this area of the park. 

I began to think about mom and how she mysteriously 
vanished three years ago. I thought about the pain it 
brought us as a family, especially my sister, Tracy, 
who couldn't stop crying for days afterwards. I also 
thought about my dad who often hid his emotions 
whenever Tracy or I was around. He thought he was 
fooling us, but I knew he suffered in silence. How 
could he not. Mom and dad started their relationship as 
high school sweethearts. Not many couples can say the 
same thing.

I remember when I was younger how he would tell me that 
mom was a one-in-a-million lady and that's what I 
needed to find one day for my bride. The honk of a 
Canadian goose scavenging for food pulled me from my 
reverie. The sun had set and it was getting nearer to 
the time when dad would have dinner ready. I stood up 
and made my way out of the park. I walked with my hands 
in my pockets, brooding over the string of events that 
brought me to ask Harold for help.

Thinking about Harold triggered a memory of a classmate 
who wrote an essay on human trafficking. At the time, I 
thought the topic interesting and asked if I could read 
it. To be honest, I was totally unprepared by the data 
he quoted in his paper: human trafficking is a 
multibillion-dollar business that exploits mostly woman 
and children for the purposes of slavery or sexual 
servitude. Victims are either lured by false promises 
or by physical force with no hope of escape.

The reason I mention this is because I believe my mom 
was taken by force the day she contacted me from the 
nail salon. She was 45 at the time but her body 
appeared to be that of a 30-year-old woman. Mom 
regularly visited the gym and ate a healthy vegetarian 
diet. It also helped that her parents passed on the 
right sequence of genes which gave her an ass any 
buttman would want to mount. And, when she wears her 
form-fitting leggings, there isn't a straight man on 
the street who doesn't sport wood when she walks on by.

The traffickers must've taken one look at mom and 
decided she would be a cash cow, not to mention a nice 
piece of tail on the side. My stomach churned at the 
thought of so many men taking out their sexual 
frustrations on my mom. I can't imagine what she 
must've gone through for the past three years. And if 
it weren't for my classmate's insightful paper, I never 
would've connected the dots. It's the only explanation 
that makes any real sense. I gotta hand it to those 
bastards, whoever they were. They had balls.

That night I locked myself in my room and went back to 
the site which displayed my mother's pics. I stayed up 
well into the night wondering what they were doing to 
her. Was she beaten or forced to starve on the days she 
was uncooperative? Did the men use condom? Was she even 
alive?

I hated thinking about such things but someone in my 
family had to ask the tough questions. I know Tracy and 
my dad weren't going to. Sadly, they gave up all hope 
of her ever being alive. But not me. I needed some 
shred of proof that she was really dead.

I feel ashamed to admit this but as an admirer of older 
women, I've often dreamed about mom's fleshy cheeks, 
particularly how they would feel against my hands and 
how her sphincter would taste the second my tongue made 
contact with it. But most all, I, dare I think it, 
wanted to know what it would feel like to slide my dick 
into her ass. I've thought about it even since I was 
thirteen. Now, I desired mom even more after seeing 
those erotic pictures. 

Harold didn't get back to me until two days later. I 
ran into him heading to my Biochem class. He was 
waiting in the hall outside the classroom. "Hey Rick. I 
have that information you wanted." he said in a 
conspiratorial tone. Fuck it. My mom was more important 
to me than Biochemistry.

"Let's go sit on the benches outside where we can 
talk." He shook his head and followed me out of the 
East Building. When we sat down, Harold opened his 
laptop and waited for it to come out of hibernation; 
when the Desktop appeared, he clicked on a file which 
opened the Firefox browser. It was the website I 
couldn't read before. He had some how managed to 
translate the whole site in English.

Harold pushed his glasses back onto the bride of his 
nose before he explained what he came up with: "Okay, 
you may find this strange but the language used for the 
website you told me to translate is not one commonly 
spoken. It's what linguists call a constructed 
international auxiliary language." Harold noticed the 
confusion written on my face before continuing. 

"We don't have to get into that. Suffice it to say the 
people behind this website wanted it to be cryptic. 
That's why they, whoever they are, used Esperanto, the 
language the website was originally written in. They 
must've figured the average Joe wouldn't understand 
what was written. And they'd be correct in that 
assumption. My guess, the website was made for wealthy 
executives and politicians."

Harold's explanation only confirmed my previous 
suspicion of human trafficking for the purposes of 
sexual slavery. Just the thought of my mom being used 
as a piece of meat by some dirty bastards made me ball 
my hands into fists. 

"Now, I did a check on the server that stores the 
website and traced its location back to a small town in 
Germany. But that's not the interesting part. What's 
interesting is the pics and web pages didn't originate 
from Germany. They came from a computer in Rovno which 
is located in the Ukraine. So, I'm guessing that's 
where she's being held."

Harold paused to clear his throat several times and 
squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I... uh... 
found some more pictures of your mother," he added 
sheepishly. "I swear I didn't look at them very long." 
His eyes shifted aimlessly in an attempt to avoid my 
gaze. "I... uh... just wanted to make sure you got 
everything."

"Don't sweat it. You did what I asked you to do." He 
gave me a sidelong glance; his face wary, unsure of my 
reaction. "Harold, me and my family are eternally 
grateful for your help. I won't forget it." I gave him 
a reassuring smile. He then rummaged through his bag, 
taking out a silver thumb drive. It contained all the 
files he dug up including the new pictures. "Thanks." 
We shook hands and parted ways.

Later that evening, I read through the web pages and 
discovered my mom was one of several women who 
specialized in anal sex. She was advertised as the 
"American Anal Princess." Her services included (anal, 
blowjobs, gaping, toy play, creampies, double 
penetration, and enemas). Lenora, as she was called, 
was available for parties and business functions in 
addition to one-on-one fucking. 

The charge for her talents was 150 euros which comes 
out to $200 American dollars, roughly speaking. I'm 
sure her being an American allowed them to charge a lot 
more, considering the difficulty in acquiring an 
American girl to begin with. The risk of reprisal and 
the attention brought on by such a brazen act was bad 
for business, except if you happen to be one these 
guys.

The real shock, however, was not in the description of 
her services but in the new pictures themselves and the 
captions that accompanied each one. The first one 
showed my mom spreading her cheeks apart, revealing her 
tight asshole and pink pussy. Her nails had been 
meticulously decorated in a red, white, and blue 
pattern, signifying her country of origin. The caption 
underneath read, "Whichever hole you choose, they are 
both delicious!"

Okay, I'm not going to deny that my mouth didn't flood 
with saliva, because it did. I'm still a man even 
though I'm her son. 

The next pic displayed my mom resting on her back, 
pulling her cheeks apart, while some guy slid his dick 
into her ass. Her meaty thighs had been previously 
oiled to give her skin an erotic sheen. No doubt a 
marketing tactic. I really wanted to click to the next 
shot but I found it hard to move my hand. I mean, it's 
not everyday I get to see a picture of my mom getting 
fucked in the ass. The caption for this one read, "It's 
so tight you won't be able to cum in her ass!" 

The third one was another anal shot, except this time 
mom was on her knees spreading her round mounds apart. 
I don't know if it was the same man from the picture 
before, but whoever it was, he had half his prick 
stuffed into her tight anal ring. The caption of this 
one read, "Our goal is to please." 

The fourth one was a bit bizarre in that it showed mom 
spreading her ass with a travel-sized bottle of vodka 
lodged in her anus. Despite their bad taste in humor, 
mom's ass looked even better in this shot than the 
previous two. Her skin was extra smooth and tanned, 
which is odd when you consider the Ukraine is not a 
destination for tourists in search of sun. They must've 
bought their own personal tanning bed. The caption for 
that one read, "Drink right from the source!" 

In the next shot, mom was on her knees spreading her 
cheeks again but this time after having been fucked in 
the ass. Her shiny anus was gaping with cum in and 
around her raw asshole. The man who fucked her must've 
pulled out at the last second before shooting his wad. 
The caption read, "Another satisfied customer." 

I don't know what compelled me to do this but I opened 
up the pic in an image editor and zoomed in on her 
stretched hole. I could just make out the thick fibrous 
tissue that made up her sphincter and the damp bottom 
of her rectum. I quickly closed the program, disgusted 
with myself for lusting after my mom's ass. Fuck! Why 
did she have to look so damn sexy?

The next pic caught me totally off guard; my mom was in 
the doggy-style position with a latex-gloved fist in 
her ass! I could only imagine the pain and humiliation 
she went through for that shot. The caption for this 
read, "For those who need something special." It's 
obvious their business catered to all types.

Even though I couldn't stop my cock from rising, I 
almost shed a tear knowing this had been her fate for 
the last three years. And if someone didn't save her, 
it would continue being her fate. I wasn't about to let 
that happen.

Finally, the last shot was a close up of mom sucking a 
large cock. She was leaning over the guy with lips 
tightly sealed around the head. The tits she once used 
to feed me and Tracy hung invitingly below, capped by 
half-inch nipples waiting to be sucked. The caption 
read, "Look at those lips. She's ready to drain you 
dry."

If my dad ever saw these pics, he'd be crushed. That's 
why I hid them in an encrypted folder buried in my C: 
drive. I shut off my computer and hit the sack. I 
needed time to strategize and the best way for me to do 
that was to lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. 
Believe it or not, I did some of my best thinking that 
way. 

I went through different scenarios in my mind; they all 
had their relative degree of success and failure, but 
only one would involve minimal bodily harm to me and to 
my mother. At least I hoped it would. After all, this 
is a criminal organization I'm going to deal with and I 
prefer it if we came out of the situation unscathed.

When I hammered out all the details, I fell into a 
fitful slumber trying to save my mother. I tossed and 
turned for the better part of the night until I finally 
awoke in a cold sweat. The clock read 3:18 and the only 
creatures up were the crickets. Lucky for me it was 
Friday or I'd have to be up in another four hours 
preparing for class. Going back to sleep was pointless. 
I couldn't even if I tried. There was too much on my 
mind, not to mention too much at stake.

I decided to prepare for my plan...

The first thing on my To Do list was getting all the 
case I could get my hands on. I needed it for the plane 
tickets, the hotel room, and for any unforeseeable 
expenses. I had a little over three grand tucked away 
in my savings account. I had planned on buying a new 
car with it, but now I needed the money to save a life. 
When the bank opened its doors at eight in the morning, 
I had them clear out my account.

An hour later, I exited Pike's Used Cars with two grand 
in my pocket. The care I used to shuttle myself to and 
from school was now sitting in the back portion of the 
lot. I now had a total of five grand in my pocket. Not 
bad but still not enough. If I was going to grease 
someone's palm, I better have the funds to back me up. 
At the risk of incurring outrageous fess, I withdrew 
cash on two of my credit cards; ouch! That brought my 
total to eight thousand dollars. I prayed that would be 
enough to see us safely home.

The next stop on my list was the university. I made 
arrangements to drop out from all my classes, opting 
for no credit so my GPA wouldn't be affected. I think 
that was harder to do than selling my own car. Now the 
only thing left for me to do was to visit the local 
travel agency and book my flight. I bought a one-way 
ticket to the Ukraine. The agent, a bubbly blonde, 
suggested a cheap hotel where I could stay with decent 
food. 

Upon my return home, I wrote a letter to my dad and my 
sister. Without going into details, I explained there 
was a possible lead I needed to pursue concerning mom's 
whereabouts. I mentioned my flight to Europe for and 
told them not to worry about me. And, that I would be 
in touch. I printed out two copies of the letter and 
mailed them out. I figure by the time they received it, 
I'd already be in the air. Once I was done with that, I 
went online and did a search for addresses and phone 
numbers integral to my plan. 

At 1:30 the following day, I checked my bags at the 
airport. At 3:05, I was in the air heading to Rovno. 
The flight took something like a day, but it gave me a 
chance to refine my plan. Though I was scared shitless, 
I knew my cause was just and that gave me the strength 
to carry on. 

The next day, I arrived at Borispol Airport. Those of 
us traveling to Rovno had to take a connecting flight. 
I felt like crap when I finally arrived at the Marlen 
Hotel & Restaurant. After checking in and tipping the 
bellhop, I took a long, hot shower to clean myself up. 
At that point, there was nothing I wanted more than to 
nap for a few hours, but it was already 2:37 in the 
afternoon, their time, and I needed to make effective 
use of my day. I got dressed and groomed and headed out 
in search of a cab. Ten minutes later, I was dropped 
off at the front gates of the American embassy, where I 
had an appointment with Consul Karl Stross.

A young woman, who could have been a model, escorted me 
to a waiting area outside the Consul's office. I spent 
twenty minutes flipping through the pages of a National 
Geographic before Consul Stross came out of his office 
and asked me in. With a gesture of his hand, he 
indicated I sit in the high-back chair across from his 
desk. 

I explained everything from the discovery the website, 
that part was embarrassing to admit, to Harold's help 
in translating the web pages. In addition, I showed 
Consul Stross copies of the police report, documenting 
my mother's disappearance, pictures of mom with the 
family spanning several years, and a pic from the 
website. I chose only to give him the one where she's 
sitting on a red settee. You could clearly see her face 
in that one and she wasn't nude. 

After reviewing the evidence, Consul Stross excused 
himself. He returned with another man in tow. His hair 
was peppered on the sides, fashioned military style. He 
looked like he had been around the block a few times, 
so I'm guessing he was ex-military. Consul Stross 
introduced him as his assistant, Mark Bradley. We all 
sat down and Consul Stross brought him up to speed. He 
nodded thoughtfully, appearing to digest each detail 
given to him. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing 
my case.

Once the facts were given to Mr. Bradley, we discussed 
my options. They told me about some of the local thugs 
who may be involved in my mother's kidnapping. Based on 
what the embassy had been able to gather, these gangs 
were hard to touch because many corrupt politicians, 
judges, and high-ranking police officers were on their 
payroll. Taking any kind of legal action against them 
would prove futile. Consul Stross felt the only way to 
handle this situation was for him to use certain 
channels to put pressure on some of the local 
politicians. 

This would expedite matters and force the hand of the 
local authorities to take action. A few arrests would 
be made but that would be only for show. At best, the 
thugs would spend a night in jail while awaiting a 
judge to dismiss the charges. In other words, no one 
would be punished for the crimes committed against my 
mother. 

With great reservation, I reluctantly went along with 
their plan. What choice did I have? I knew they meant 
well, but somebody should pay for abducting my mom and 
forcing her to turn tricks for three straight years! I 
mean, what the fuck! 

Once we were done, Consul Stross advised me to go back 
to the hotel and wait for his call. He said he needed 
time to make the arrangements. I took a taxi back to 
the hotel and collapsed on the bed. I didn't open my 
eyes until midnight; I got up and went to the bathroom 
and splashed cold water on my face. I started to think 
about what Consul Stross had said about needing time to 
take action. By then, it could be too late. For all I 
knew, my mom could be moved to another location 
tomorrow, or even worse, to another country! Fuck it! 
To hell with this bureaucratic bullshit! I'll handle 
this myself. 

I still had the address Harold gave me, so I'll begin 
there. My stomach growled right about then. There was 
no time to eat a proper meal, so I drank down a protein 
shake I brought along with me. It's quick and 
nutritious and it comes in handy when I don't have the 
time to eat solid foods. 

With my tummy sated, I exited the hotel and hailed the 
first available cab. I showed the driver the piece of 
paper with the address on it. As he read it, a grin 
pulled at his mouth. He glanced up, looked into the 
rearview mirror and said, "It is good place." He popped 
the clutch and poured on the gas.

The cabby pulled in front of a small brick building 
located in a semi-deserted industrial area. He pointed 
toward the wooden door and said, "You go." I tipped 
him, got out of the car, and stood in front of the 
door. The cabby took off into the night, leaving me to 
fend for myself. At that moment, Elvis singing "It's 
now or never..." popped into my mind. Great! My own 
brain has abandoned me, too. 

With the side of my fist, I knocked two times. The 
sliding of a bolt on the other side of the door made me 
step back. A beefy- bouncer with a scowl across his 
face said something I didn't understand. I pointed to 
myself and said, "Me American. Looking for woman." I 
pantomimed the typical hourglass figure of a woman. 

He stood back, allowing me to pass into a dimly-lit 
corridor. The air reeked of boiled cabbage and funky 
herbs. I followed muscle-head to a small staircase 
which lead to the main floor. He knocked once on a red 
door. The guy behind it looked to be an even bigger 
prick, probably on the verge of having a roid-rage 
attack. The two fuckheads exchanged a few words in 
Ukrainian, but the only thing I could make out was 
"American." 

The second bouncer grunted and let us pass into a 
large, rectangular room, with plastic chairs set about 
the perimeter. Only few customers had shown up tonight. 
It was mixed crowd of young and old. They all gave me 
the look. You know, the look that says you're a 
foreigner and what the fuck are you doing here. I 
ignored them and found an empty seat in the corner and 
settled in. I wondered how many of these guys fucked my 
mother. Probably none. They didn't look like they could 
afford it.

There was an annoying haze of cigarette smoke, which 
hung in the air permeating every space in the room. I 
rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands, until the 
sting from the nicotine subsided. I looked around, 
avoiding the stares from the other men, and spotted a 
small LCD television bolted to the wall. There was a 
porn movie playing; the volume was low but who cares 
about that. 

I spied the first bouncer talking to an older woman who 
looked to be in her fifties. She had dirty blonde hair 
with light blue eyes. The bouncer pointed at me a 
couple of times while she frowned. Uh-oh, I've been 
made. I know it.

She curtly replied to the big oaf and glanced my way; I 
met her stare with a disarming smile. The lady then 
dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She got up and 
glided over to me. When she got to a foot of my legs, 
she bent at the waist and placed her hands on the tops 
of her thighs and said, "Ahmeriken zhinka... ah... 
vuman. You come." Could it be she was referring to my 
mom? 

I followed her down a hall lined with rooms on both 
sides. Thick, heavy curtains served as doors, providing 
the johns with some measure of privacy. As I made my 
way down the corridor, I could hear moaning and 
grunting coming from the other side of each curtain I 
passed. The walls appeared to be nothing more than 
painted sheet rock, allowing anyone in one room to hear 
what was going on in the next.

The madam stopped in front of the last door on the left 
and opened it. A chime sounded. From what I could tell, 
it was an anteroom, sparsely furnished with plush red 
carpeting. She led me to another door in the far corner 
of the room. The blonde pressed a button on the wall 
and the door unlocked, opening on its own. I trailed 
behind her after she swung the door open. 

The first thing I spotted was a short middle-aged man, 
fucking a woman in the ass. She was on her hands and 
knees with her long, dark hair concealing her face. 
When the man saw the madam, he slowly slid his long 
dick out of the woman's anus. The fucker had to have 
been ten inches in length. Once his knob cleared her 
anus, a faint slurping sound shattered the thick 
silence in the room.

The lady's sphincter remained open and the guy smiled 
at the madam, while forcing the woman's cheeks apart, 
increasing her gape to double the size! The madam 
turned her head to the side and waved her hand in 
disgust; she angrily spat out something in Ukraine, 
which only made the older man laugh at the madam's 
discomfort. Since fun time was over, he let the woman's 
cheeks go and padded across the room. His dick, still 
erect, bobbed in the air. He picked up a robe off of a 
chair and covered himself. The woman on the bed still 
had her head hung in shame, never once making a sound.

The madam and the bald guy resumed their talking. It 
didn't take a brainiac to know I was the topic of 
conversation. He gave me the once over as though he was 
making up his mind whether to trust me or not. I looked 
at the woman and took in her sexy body. My eyes 
followed a path from her heavy tits, which were resting 
on the covers, to her mature yet curvy ass and well-
toned thighs. 

By this time, the conversation ended. The old guy 
walked out of the room. The madam turned to me and 
said, "For you. Good American vuman." She then put her 
hand out in front of her waiting for me to pay. That's 
when the lady on the bed decided to look up at me. Our 
eyes immediately locked on to each other and widened in 
shock. 

It was my mom!

I immediately broke the connection so the madam 
wouldn't catch on. A surge of adrenaline rushed through 
my veins at the sight of my beautiful naked mother. I 
reached into my pocket and pulled out four thousand 
Hryvnias, which is roughly equivalent to five hundred 
American dollars. I wanted the madam to think I was a 
big spender and hopefully the extra cash would buy me 
some more time with my mom. While I was paying, my 
peripheral vision picked up on mom going through the 
motions of covering with a sheet. The madam smirked at 
mom's attempt at modesty after having been fucked in 
the ass only moments ago. 

"Dyakuyu! Dyakuyu!" I think she was thanking me but I 
couldn't be sure. I smiled the best phony smile I could 
muster but what I really wanted to do at that moment 
was to choke the shit out of her. She left us alone 
humming a tune under her breath and softly closed the 
door behind her.

My eyes watered as I looked at mom. I couldn't believe 
I found her alive. All of a sudden, my emotions got the 
best of me and I couldn't help but want to rush toward 
her and scoop her in my arms, but before I could, she 
put up her hand, stopping me in my tracks and said, 
"Hey big guy. Give a lady a chance to get to know you 
better. What's the rush?" I didn't know how to respond 
to that. Why she was acting this way? Surely she must 
know that I'm her son. 

Mom got off the bed and paused, as if unsure of what 
her next action should be. Then she quickly recovered 
and took her hands away from the bedsheet concealing 
her womanly charms. The white fabric slid down her 
torso, clinging to the curves of her body, revealing 
her full mommy tits, her soft mommy stomach, her wide 
mommy hips, her plump mommy pussy, and her creamy mommy 
thighs, until it crumpled at her meticulous mommy feet. 

I gasped at the sight of her beauty. My mom smirked at 
my obvious approval of her anatomy and shuffled across 
the room closing the distance between us. Then she 
reached out with her right hand and seductively rubbing 
her palm over my chest, warming the skin underneath my 
shirt. She searched my eyes before raising herself on 
her tippy-toes and sensually pressing her soft lips 
against mine before pulling away.

My lungs felt constricted forcing me to breathe heavy. 
The temperature in the room got a few degrees higher, 
or so it seemed. Mom stopped rubbing me and warmly 
looked into my eyes. She then moved in closer and put 
her hand behind my head and pulled. She kissed me on 
the cheek and combed her long nails through my hair. 
She moved her lips right up to my ear and whispered, 
"Play along as best you can." She pecked my cheek and 
then said, "They're watching. I don't want my baby to 
get hurt." She pulled her head away to kiss me on the 
lips again. 

Mom draped her arms over my shoulders and lovingly 
scanned my eyes. I think she was having a hard time 
believing I was really in the room with her. When she 
satisfied herself that I was the read deal, she resumed 
the small talk. "So, you're an American, huh?"

It took a second for me to snap out of my daze before 
replying. "Yeah, I'm an American."

"Whereabouts?" I didn't want to reveal our real home 
state lest they caught on to the charade, so picked the 
first one that popped into my mind.

"New York City. I'm here on business."

"Oh, and what kind of business is that?" mom asked, 
maintaining the conversation for whoever happened to be 
eavesdropping.

"Uh... mostly international trade." I couldn't think of 
anything better to say in such short notice. I thought 
it sounded convincing, though. That's when mom padded 
away and parked her soft, fleshy rear on the edge of 
the mattress; she crossed her shapely legs at the knees 
and swung her foot to and fro. She caught my stare and 
smirked. I felt like a little boy again as the heat 
rushed into my face, turning my whole head into one big 
tomato.

Mom patted the bed and reached her arm out; I could 
barely move my heavy legs as I shuffled over; I placed 
my clammy hand into hers and she grasped it, gently 
pulling me down to sit beside her. Despite mom's 
incredible beauty, the youthful complexion she once 
carried had now been replaced by a drained exterior. 
The crow's feet at the outer corners of her eyes were 
markedly pronounced, increasing her age beyond her 48 
years. My lips curled into a reassuring smile. How 
could anyone be so cruel to this woman? What did she do 
in her life to deserve such treatment?

At this point, if I could get my paws on each person 
responsible for my mother's abduction and hang them on 
sharp meat hooks, so I could flay their hides, I'd die 
a happy man. Mom witnessed the momentary anger which 
flashed across my face and softly squeezed my hand. Her 
warmth brought cooled me down. I looked back at her and 
focused on her mesmerizing hazel-colored irises. I used 
to love doing that as a boy. I stare at them the whole 
afternoon while she read or watched television. Mom 
always got a kick out of that. She'd let me stare at 
them, knowing how much it calmed me. When I got older, 
she used to joke about how it was the only way she 
could get me to behave. 

The memory brought a silly grin to my face. Mom 
returned my smile and said, "So, what's your pleasure, 
big boy? I can pretty much do everything."

"Huh?" I hope she wasn't asking what I think she was 
asking.

"You didn't pay all that money just to sit here and 
talk. So, what'll it be?

"B—But... But." 

"So, you're a buttman? I should've guessed." She winked 
at my obvious discomfort and reached over to a 
nightstand and opened a drawer. She pulled out a single 
condom packet and tossed it on the bed and said, 
"You're going to need this if we're going to do anal." 
I choked on my saliva and coughed when she mentioned 
the word anal. "All customers have to wear one—house 
rules, except for the boss; he's the one you saw 
before."

I broke out into a nervous sweat as my prick stiffened 
in my slacks; did she really want me to fuck her ass? 
Just the thought of fucking my mother's mature ass made 
my heart strain to pump more blood, so it could 
compensate for the loss in my head, which was now being 
used by the arteries of my aching cock. Mom picked up 
on my nervousness and kept the ball rolling: "Is this 
going to be your first time doing anal?" 

"Uh... uh, yeah. I guess... I mean, yes." I could feel 
my face flush from embarrassment. Though it's been a 
boyhood fantasy of mine, I didn't know if I had it in 
me to fuck her ass, regardless if I was being watched 
or not. Mom reached out and lovingly cupped my chin in 
her hand. We stared at each other and bathed in the 
unconditional love that poured from our hearts. 

"If you like, sir, you can undress behind that screen 
over there." Mom pointed to a light brown folding 
screen similar to the kind used in the orient. I stood 
up went behind the screen and removed my clothes. My 
hands shook each time I took an article of clothing 
off; when I finished, I placed my attire on a wooden 
bench behind me. 

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before I 
stepped out from behind the screen. I froze when my 
bulging eyes caught sight of mom on her hands and 
knees, reaching back and applying lube to her anus. My 
mouth hung open, glued to her fingers as they sunk into 
her sphincter. She twirled her long digit within the 
confines of her anus, making sure her tight ring was 
generously coated. 

When she felt she was sufficiently prepared, mom put 
the tube of lube down and peered over her shoulder. 
"There you are. I didn't think you were going to make 
an appearance." She noticed my dick pointing at the 
ceiling, hard as an iron bar, dripping precum. I took a 
step forward and then paused. "Don't be shy. Come on... 
It'll be okay." 

How she could be so casual about this was beyond me. 
It's as if the events of the past thirty minutes didn't 
faze her. But in all fairness, she did say we were 
being watched. So, that could explain her atypical 
behavior. 

From this point, there really no turning back. Our very 
lives could be at risk if I didn't act. Luckily, mom 
was way ahead of me in that department. I observed as 
she turned her head to the side and placed it on the 
mattress below. Satisfied that her center of gravity 
would hold, she then reached back and carefully pried 
her round cheeks apart. The ridged texture of her pink, 
pucker came into view. 

My pupils instantly dilated so as much of the image of 
mom's ass could pass through to my retina. Naturally, 
this triggered biological reactions within my body; for 
one thing, my heart and respiration began to increase 
in response to her soft, doughy globes; after that, my 
testosterone levels shot up, taking my libido along for 
the ride. I found it difficult to breathe.

I did manage to climb on the bed, however. And that 
little feat took most of my will, or I'd still be 
standing there with my dick bouncing in the air. I 
couldn't get over how unbelievably round and plump her 
cheeks were. I could see what attracted this cadre of 
criminals to my mother. I'm no expert when it comes to 
ass but mom's ass broke a new record, at least in my 
book it did. And forget about those pictures from the 
website. They didn't do justice to her ass, not by a 
long shot.

The sequence of events that brought us together, now 
demanded the consummation of our mother-son 
relationship in a way we never foresaw. Whether by fate 
or by desire, I knee walked the foot that separated my 
cock from her upturned ass, ready to commit a sin no 
culture would approve.

With my dick lined up with her slick anus, I gently 
pushed against the taut membrane and watched in awe as 
her rosy ring easily sunk in before stretching tightly 
around the purple knob of my dick. I moaned from the 
combined pressure exerted by both sphincters. Her shit-
hole formed a hermetical seal around my throbbing 
prick, preventing the flow of air in and out of her 
rectum.

I inched my way forward, sliding the remainder of my 
thick, veiny shaft right to the hilt. Mom's striated 
ring gripped my cock, restricting further movement. 
During all the excitement, I completely forgot to use 
the condom she gave me before. But at this point, it 
was too late to stop now. Besides, I didn't want to 
make it an issue considering how we had an unseen 
audience.

Now that I was firmly embedded in my mother's ass, I 
took this opportunity to admit a secret I've held 
bottled up for quite some time. I removed my hands from 
her spongy hips and placed them on the bed to hold my 
weight up. I then leaned over her back until my lips 
were right behind her left ear and whispered, "Oh 
mom... I've wanted to have you like this for so long. 
I'm ashamed to admit it but it's true."

I didn't know what her reaction would be but the last 
thing I was expecting was empathy. "I know baby. I've 
suspected as much. Don't be ashamed to love me in that 
way." That's when her sphincter muscles released their 
hold on me.

I slowly began to saw my erection in and out of her 
greasy butthole. With each plunge of my cock my mother 
would clench and unclench her asshole, stimulating the 
cutaneous nerves along my shaft. I held out for as long 
as I possibly could, which was no longer than three 
lousy minutes before I yielded to the most tremendous 
orgasm of my life.

My face scrunched into a feral-mask of pure animal lust 
as my cock swelled; I threw my head back and roared as 
my dick repeatedly jerked, sending rope after rope of 
scalding jism deep into my mother's bowels. My grip on 
her hips inadvertently increased as more of my splooge 
blasted from my pisshole. I slowed my thrusts down so 
my sensitive dick could withstand the friction of our 
coupling. 

After the last remaining cum was drawn out of me, I 
pulled my deflated cock out of mom's yawing hole. The 
color contrast between the pink of her anus and the 
deep red of her rectum held my attention, to the point 
where I blocked out all stimuli from the room. I 
couldn't decide whether I wanted to lick the interior 
of her ass or bury my entire head inside. Such was the 
power of my unbridled lust. A lust no other woman would 
bring out again.

I know I should've stopped right then and there and 
respected the sacrifice my mother made in offering her 
ass to me, but I couldn't help but bite down into the 
soft flesh that brought me so much pleasure. Her skin 
was smoother and softer than I originally thought. When 
I pulled back, I checked out my handiwork. I left 
behind several dental impressions that marred the silky 
surface of her voluptuous ass.

I was about to swoop down and get a taste of her 
glistening O-ring when a loud crash made us both jump. 
I could hear the sound of a door being smashed in. 
There was a lot of screaming while gunfire was 
exchanged. I didn't know what was going on but I sure 
as hell didn't intend to stick around and find out. I 
grabbed my mother off the bed and told her to quickly 
dress. I hurriedly put my pants on and slipped into my 
shoes. Mom had put on a one-piece dress and some fluffy 
slippers.

"Forget the slippers, mom! They'll slow us down." She 
kicked them across the room and ran to my side. Just 
then, the door to our room opened; a guy with a nasty 
scar across his forehead came in waving a machine gun. 
He grabbed my mother by the arm and roughly dragged her 
toward the door saying: "Pishly (Let's go), Pishly 
(Let's go)." He jerked his head to the side, indicating 
I should follow him, too. 

That's when mom turned her head toward me. Tears 
streaked her face as she cried, "I love you Ricky. 
Always remember that." Scarface became very impatient 
and began shoving mom out of the room, embedding the 
nozzle of his gun in the small of her back.

Then it finally dawned on me: Scarface never once 
pointed his gun at me. I mean, why should he. After 
all, I'm a high-paying customer who stopped by looking 
to have a good time. Therefore, it stand to reason I 
would pose no threat to him and that I wanted out just 
as much as the next john who happened to be caught up 
in this place.

I had to think fast or I might never see my mom again. 
"Proshu!" I think I said please but I wasn't sure. At 
least it got his attention. He began to turn around and 
like a cat stomping on a mouse, I sprung forward and 
landed a knee strike right against the center of his 
chest. My aim was true; a sickening crack filled the 
room, indicating I had broken his sternum on impact. 
Scarface dropped to the floor, snarling in pain.

That knee strike was the one move I did better than 
anyone else at the Muay Thai dojo I trained at back in 
high school. In fact, it was the only move I ever 
mastered. I couldn't fight for shit, which is why my 
instructor suggested I look into a fighting system that 
emphasized legs, such as Hapkido, for example. He said 
my arms weren't coordinated enough for most other 
martial arts. 

By this time, Scarface was clutching his chest. He 
wheezed in an attempt to fill his lungs with air. I 
reached down and took his gun away from him and told my 
mom to follow me out. "Mom, is there a back door in 
this place or some kind of fire escape?" 

She frowned for a moment then her eyes lit up. "Yes! 
There is!" She said excitedly. "I once saw the boss 
take a girl out through a back door." she explained.

"Lead the way, mom." When we stepped out into the hall, 
a voice bellowed out of nowhere and said, "Mr. Delancy, 
put your weapon down and kick it across the floor 
toward us." I couldn't place the voice but there was a 
familiar ring to it. I placed the gun on the floor and 
kicked in with the heel of my right foot. That's when 
mom and I turned around and saw a police squad with 
their guns trained on us; not the most welcoming sight 
for a tourist. Then a man pushed through from the back 
who I didn't notice before. It was Mr. Bradley from the 
embassy. I thought that voice sounded familiar. 

I turned to my mom and said, "We're going to be okay, 
mom." That's when she collapsed into my arms. I held 
her up and scooped her in my arms.

Mr. Bradley escorted us back to the embassy where mom 
was given a check up by the in-house physician. Aside 
from malnutrition, and a few bruises, she was going to 
be fine. However, the doctor suggested she get checked 
out by her primary physician when we returned to the 
states. Mom remained in bed hooked up to an IV-Bag. 
During her convalescence, we gave our statements and 
signed them.

The next morning, I found out by Consul Stross that he 
had me tailed when I left the embassy the day before. 
He suspected I was going to do something brash. So, 
when his informant reported that I had gone to the 
whorehouse, they had to pull some strings to get a 
bunch of police officers ready to storm the place at a 
moment's notice. As a result, there was no time for 
anyone to tip off my mother's captors. 

Once mom had recovered enough to travel, the embassy 
arranged for our safe passage back to the States. I 
called my dad and told him the news. I put mom on the 
phone and a lot of tears were shed. For the first time 
in over three years, we were going to be a family 
again.

During the long flight home, mom explained the ugly 
truth about being a victim of human trafficking. She 
told me about the countless beatings, the rapes, the 
humiliation—all of it. She admitted some personal stuff 
as well, like how she and dad never had anal sex, even 
though he had asked her a couple of times. Mom's 
captors felt her ass was a definite moneymaker which is 
why they advertised it as her specialty. 

In her humble opinion, she felt it was too big and not 
very attractive. My reply to her was "You have no idea 
how sexy it is, mom." I said that because it was the 
truth but also because I wanted to lighten her mood.

"I'm guessing I have a pretty good idea where you're 
concerned, young man." She smiled and I thought I 
detected a faint twinkle in her eyes. I was glad she 
had enough of a sense of humor to joke around like 
this. That's when she cornered me and brought up the 
subject of my boyhood fantasy; you know, the one I 
admitted to having when I was deep in her ass. You 
should've seen the color change in my face. Mom said I 
went white one moment then red the next. She couldn't 
help but chuckle at my discomfort. Grudgingly, I gave 
in and told her the abridged version of my number one 
fantasy, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

When I finished, I couldn't help but put my head down 
in embarrassment. Mom reached over and lovingly grasped 
my hand and said, "Honey, we did what we had to do to 
in order to survive. And in a crazy sort of way, I'm 
glad I could give my baby something he's desired for so 
long." 

We talked some more about it and I found out why my mom 
offered me her ass that night. She said if I fucked her 
in the ass, it wouldn't really be incest, whereas 
fucking her pussy would. I really didn't see the logic 
behind that but if it helps her cope, so be it. I 
changed the topic of conversation and filled her in on 
Harold and what he'd done for us. I had a hard time 
explaining the technical aspects of what Harold did 
because I really didn't understand them myself. But mom 
got the gist of it and said she'd have to personally 
thank him for all his help. We then pushed our seats 
back and got some much-needed sleep. 

As the plan taxied down the runway many hours later, my 
mom made me promise to never reveal our incestual 
coupling to dad. 

I agreed for obvious reasons. When we exited the plane, 
I caught sight of my dad holding my sister's hand. 
"Dad!" When he heard my voice, he rushed over to us 
almost knocking down an old lady in the process. I 
stepped back and watched the three of them embrace. You 
should have seen the tears that were shed, even my dad, 
who I've never ever seen cry before, bawled like a baby 
as he tightly clutched mom to his chest. 

It was time to go home...

For the next few weeks, dad never let mom out of her 
sight. Normally, any other woman would've complained, 
but I could tell it's what mom wanted. She needed to be 
loved again, not only by him but by all of us. And she 
sure got it in spades.

Before mom and dad made love that first time, she got 
herself checked out just like the doctor at the embassy 
suggested. Our family physician ran a battery of tests 
and found that several nerves in her anus had been 
damaged; the doctor delicately explained that mom may 
one day experience bowel incontinence, but the chances 
were good that wouldn't be the case, considering her 
above average muscle tone. I can personally vouch for 
that. In addition, she contracted "the gift that keeps 
on giving" commonly known as Herpes simplex virus 2 or 
(HSV-2). Granted, not the best news in the world, but 
it could've been much worse. In hindsight, now I 
understood the wisdom of mom's advice when she said I 
should wear a condom. Oh well.

Not surprisingly, the news didn't deter dad from 
ravaging mom that night. I suspect she finally gave him 
some ass because I could clearly hear his groans all 
the way from the kitchen. My sister giggled from the 
couch and went back to watching her movie.

Of course, I'm not going to sugarcoat the story and say 
everything was fine with my mom. Like many victims of 
human trafficking, mom suffered from a mild form of 
post-traumatic stress disorder. She had nightmares 
every night for god knows how many months. It took all 
our love and strength as a family but we pulled mom 
through it. Her weekly visits to the therapist helped 
her cope with many of the issues she had as a victim.

Mom's self-esteem was pretty low when she got back to 
us, which may partially explain why she decided to show 
Harold her gratitude by fucking the shit out of him. I 
didn't know about it until years after the fact. I had 
wondered where he got his newfound confidence. I should 
be pissed at Harold for accepting mom's offer but I'm 
sure he probably had little say in the matter.

At dad's insistence, mom was implanted with a microchip 
as a security precaution. I know some of you are 
thinking that's a little extreme, but under the 
circumstances, I have to agree with my father. And 
seeing how my sister is really a younger version of my 
mom, with an even better ass, it made sense to have her 
implanted as well. It cost my dad a fortune to have 
them both undergo the procedure, but the piece of mind 
it brought made it more than worth the expense.

I'm married now and have my own family. My mom is 
pushing 60 but she still looks wonderful to me. During 
family get-togethers, when no one is looking, there are 
times when are eyes connect. Like any mother who has 
kids, she has the uncanny ability to read me like an 
open book. This time around, it's mom who blushes.

The End

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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