One step forward, two steps back

“Was this where you wanted me?”

Your mother is bent over the basement couch, still topless. Her hands rest on the cushions. Her huge, pale, creamy breasts dangle tantalizingly beneath her, like ripe fruit. Her big, juicy ass juts out in the air behind her. She sways it back and forth, perhaps unconsciously, and you can’t help but stare at and admire it.

“John?”

Your eyes don’t leave her ass.

“Uh-huh?”

“I asked if this position is okay.”

You tear your gaze away from her big, wobbling ass for a moment to look your mother in the eye. She’s turned her head to stare back at you, her blue eyes glimmering questioningly.

“It’s fantastic. I feel like I’m learning yoga already,” you say.

Your mother smiles. An altogether rare sight whenever she’s talking to you. It’s even more incredible that she’s doing it while jutting her ass out toward you like a whore.

“Well, that’s good,” she arches her back slightly while craning her neck upward, drawing your eyes to her bubble butt again. The material of her black gym shorts clings to her cheeks like a second skin and digs slightly into her crack, accentuating the shape of those magnificent globes. “You know, I normally don’t use furniture when I’m doing my stretches.”

“Oh yeah?”

She shakes her head.

“I usually just use the mat. So, are you coming over here or are you just going to watch?”

You can’t help yourself.

“That’s what she said.”

Mom ceases her movements and glares sharply at you.

“That was incredibly inappropriate. You know I don’t like that kind of talk in my house.”

A smirk spreads across your face. Oh, if she could only appreciate the irony of lecturing you on inappropriate behavior while she bends over topless for your viewing pleasure.

“Sorry about that. I should definitely know better by now. Please Mommy; give your ass a nice hard slap. That’ll teach me a lesson.”

Your mother blinks at the command.

“I’m not sure how that’s supposed to teach you a lesson, but I’ll do what you ask because I love you, sweetie.”

Your mother raises a hand high in the air behind her before delivering it to her ass with a resounding crack, sending her assflesh jiggling with the impact.

“Ah!” she grimaces. “My god, that hurt…” she says quietly. She massages her ass gingerly.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” she levels a stern glare at you, even as her palm rubs her butt in circles. “Can we get back to stretching now?”

You let a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Watching your mother spank herself had pleased you more than you thought it would. You guess you shouldn’t be surprised. Mom has always been a strict disciplinarian, punishing you for even the most minor infraction, criticizing you for the slightest lapse in your manners, and you feel gratified at seeing her reduced to your plaything you can punish at will. But what does that say about you, that you’d do something so nasty to the woman who’d birthed you? That you harbor resentment so strong that you’d leap at the chance to inflict pain upon her? Are you becoming a person who would enjoy such things or have you always been, and your new power has merely unlocked the latent sadism languishing at the bottom of your soul?

Throughout your life, you’d seen yourself as the morally just party in your interactions with your parents. Sure, you hadn’t been the best son; neither the best behaved nor the most studious, but you hadn’t committed any crimes. You’d done your work on time and when asked. You certainly hadn’t gone off to college and gotten some girl pregnant and then moved back home, expecting Mom and Dad to provide for you and their grandchild.

“John?” She's sounding increasingly impatient. If you don’t go back to doing yoga soon, she’s liable to yell at you or decide she’s wasted enough time on you and go back upstairs.

A kind of haze shrouds your mind, and you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Um, I don’t think that did the trick. Please, Mommy; spank yourself again. Once on each cheek ought to do it. Oh, and make sure you use a little more **** this time.”

Her expression hardens.

“Fine, if you say so. For the record, I really don’t enjoy this,” her tone is resigned. She lifts her palm up once again, bracing herself against the couch with her free hand. She delivers the first smack, yelping in pain. She keeps eye contact with you the entire time, and you do what you can to hide just how much you’re enjoying this.

“Don’t forget the second smack, Mommy,” you try to make your voice sound as innocent as possible, but even to your own ears it sounds like you’re mocking her.

She nods, swallowing.

“Yes, you’re right, sweetie.”

It’s so hard not to laugh. To audibly delight in her suffering, to relish the power you hold over her. It’s terrible, you know, but for some reason that only seems to excite you.

Hesitantly, she lifts her hand again. She closes her eyes and steels herself. Finally, after a few moments, she delivers the second spank. Her assflesh wobbles satisfyingly. Just a bit more satisfying than the clapping sound generated by the impact of her palm on her butt.

“Fucking incredible,” you whisper, licking your lips. Your cock is at full mast in your pants, and again you contemplate finding a way to get your release right now, regardless of the potential consequences of your father or Tiffany coming down to investigate any noises produced by you having sex.

“W-what was that?” your mother asks. Her expression looks pained.

“Nothing,” you mutter. You really want to make her spank herself again. Three smacks were not nearly enough to completely satisfy you. Suddenly, an idea comes to you. “Oh, I know. Please, Mommy; take off your gym shorts and panties and leave them off until I say you can put them back on.”

She stares at you for a long moment before nodding slowly.

“Okay. Could you tell me why you suddenly want me to take my shorts off? I mean, it’s okay for you to see me naked, but what if your father comes down? I don’t want him to see me like this.”

You avoid answering her first question.

“Meh. Don’t worry about that. If he comes down, I’ll go and stall him on the stairwell. That should give you enough time to get dressed, right?”

“I guess so. I still want it on the record that I don’t like this,” she grouses, but quickly resumes standing. She grabs the waistband of her shorts and pulls them downward, revealing her pale, expansive asscheeks and white panties. She lifts a leg, fishing the shorts off and gently placing them on the couch.

A period follows where your mother simply looks at you. Dressed only in her panties, she almost looks like one of the topless models you’d seen in your dad’s old magazines. Her brown-auburn hair frames her face and back tastefully, cascading downward in gentle waves.

And then it hits you. Your mother’s about to take her panties off. She’s about to let herself be alone and fully naked with you. You have to; no, you need to make this a positive experience for the both of you, because despite all your misgivings with her, you don’t hate your mother. Quite the opposite; in the absence of any recent maternal feelings she’s shown you, you think you’ve allowed yourself to grow infatuated with her and learned to appreciate her fully as a woman. There’s something about her sternness and her keen intellect that attract you to her in ways her body doesn’t. Oh, you wouldn’t kid yourself. Mom’s beautiful face and her soft, voluptuous body have long been the object of your torrid midnight fantasies, but that’s only part of what attracts you to her. For as long as you’ve known her, you’ve admired her strength. Her ability to make decisions and plan ahead. She’s a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t shy about making those wishes known to those around her.

Distracted by your thoughts, you almost miss the sudden quickness with which she hooks her dextrous fingers around the waistband of her panties. She takes a deep breath, but keeps looking you in the eye as she drags her hands downward. Even as she exposes her naked rear to you for the first time, you can’t help but stare into those beautiful blue orbs. You want to possess her like you are on your way to possessing Sharon. You want to dominate her thoughts and feelings, to fill in every crevice of her mind like the ocean tide. You want to be the center of her world and the sun around which it orbits.

Her expression shifts, and she looks away from you.

You look downward, finally.

And you see her, completely nude for the first time in your life.

You don’t know how long you spend tracing her curves, the gentle swell of her breasts. The roundness of her soft rear, still red from the impact of her hands. You marvel at the sight of her sex, at the small tuft of hair above it, which is only just visible between her legs.

“Can you turn around?” you ask.

She obeys even though you didn’t invoke her trigger. She faces you, eyeing you strangely, and for a few frightening seconds, you worry that she knows exactly why she’s done here and what you’ve done to her. What you’re going to do to her and so many others.

The moment passes, but you can’t shake that feeling of unease. She knows you, probably better than you know yourself. Nurturing, Linda Doe is not. But she knows all about you.

Her expression barely changes as you look her body up and down. Your eyes linger on her breasts. Large and ripe, you have to remind yourself that you’ve gotten off with those big, soft breasts wrapped around your manhood, and that she’d kept your cum smeared against her skin for an entire day.

You look her in the eye again, and your heart skips a beat.

Her eyes are blank, glassy. She’s staring ahead without seeming to really be looking at anything in particular. Her mouth droops open slightly.

“Mom?”

She doesn’t reply.

“Can you hear me, Mom?”

She nods.

“Yes,” she replies flatly. It’s as if all emotion has been stripped from her voice.

You swallow thickly. So, it seems her daily trance has come at last.

What are you going to do with her? Making her more loyal and obedient to you seems the most obvious route. Such a course of action would probably yield great gains for you as well as solidify the control you have over your own household.

You can try making her love you more and see you as a man instead of merely her son. The idea of snatching her love away from your father appeals to you greatly. There’s just the problem of **** being a major no-no in society. Nothing you and your mother do can ever be in public. Too great a risk exists of you being exposed, particularly at such an early stage of you spreading your influence.

That’s not to say you could not keep a relationship you have with your mother private; you could, after all, confine your relationship within the walls of your home. Yet even that is further complicated by your father’s presence in the house, as well as Rick’s to a lesser extent. Thankfully you hold the keys to both Tiffany’s and your mother’s minds. If you want, you can have your sister break up with Rick and have Mom divorce Dad, leaving both women alone with you. But is that something you really want?

You picture yourself sitting at the head of the kitchen table. Your mother and your sister are seated to your left and right. Both women are naked as the day they were born, proudly displaying their breasts for your viewing pleasure. Two pairs of eyes, one blue, one green stare at you, radiating an emotion higher than love. Something akin to adoration. Reverence. Whatever it is, it feels right.

A hand touches your right shoulder. You look upward and see Sharon smiling down at you. She gazes at your mother and sister and smirks deviously, like she knows that the only reason they adore you is because you brainwashed them.

You feel another hand tap your left shoulder and find Marissa standing at your side, dark eyes wide with a zeal that surprises and arouses you.

“We’re all yours, Daddy,” she bends down low to whisper in your ear, pressing her impressive bust against your arm. Her tongue snakes out and touches your earlobe.

“Every one of us, my love,” Sharon echoes Marissa, reaching a hand between her thick thighs to insert her index finger into her sopping wet pussy.

“Our minds are wide open for you, my sweet son,” your mother says. She parts her plush, ruby-red lips. Mom almost never wore lipstick, but she does now for you.

“So get off your lazy ass and take us, little bro,” Tiffany leans back in her seat and begins mashing her breasts together, a goading smirk on her face.

You shake yourself from your reverie. Well, that was… intense. You can’t say you’ve ever had a daydream so vivid before.

“It felt so goddamn real,” you think aloud. For a moment, you think you feel something wet along your left earlobe. Reflexively, you move your hand there, and feel nothing but your own dry skin.

Your mother continues staring ahead passively, entirely unaware of her nakedness or the entranced state of her mind.

A smile spreads across your face.

“Your mind’s wide open to me, huh, Mom?”

She doesn’t reply.

“On a scale of one to ten, how open would you say you are to any suggestion I make?”

Just when it looks like she’s not going to answer, she finally blurts out, “Three.”

Ouch. Even after you’d commanded her to enjoy obeying while she was hypnotized at the mall, you still only amounted to a three on her… suggestion acceptance… what’s the word? Spectrum? Whatever. It’s nothing you can’t deal with now.

“Just three?”

“Just three,” she confirms.

“But you’re comfortable around me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“Very comfortable.”

“Very comfortable,” she repeats immediately.

“Since you’re comfortable around me, it stands to reason that you’d also be comfortable listening to my suggestions. Isn’t that right?”

“I…”

You head her off before she can say something that wastes both of your time.

“You’re very comfortable around me.”

“I’m very comfortable around you,” she says.

“You’re so comfortable around me, you don’t mind being naked around me.”

“I don’t mind being naked around you.”

Your lips twitch into a grin.

“So if I were to suggest that you get naked, you’d have no problem doing it?”

She shrugs. The movement causes her boobs to wobble.

“I guess not, as long as we’re alone.”

Gotcha.

“So you’re willing to strip naked in front of me when I ask. Sounds like you’re a lot more open to my suggestions than a measly three out of ten. Don’t you think so?”

She opens her mouth, but quickly clamps it shut. What had she been about to say?

“You’re willing to strip naked in front of me whenever I want, as long as we’re alone, right?”

“Yes… strip naked…” Mom says.

“I’m your son.”

“You’re my son.”

“Yet you’re willing to get naked in front of me. That says we’re probably a lot closer than your average mother and son.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

“Closer?”

Reflexively, you move your hands forward and grab a handful of either of her teardrop breasts. You start squeezing her titflesh.

Your mother moans softly.

“You’re very comfortable around me.”

“I’m very comfortable around you,” she parrots your words almost as soon as they’ve left your mouth.

“You’re so comfortable around me that you don’t mind being naked in front of me.”

“Naked…” She bites her lip.

“You’re more comfortable around me than anyone else.”

“I’m more comfortable around you than anyone else,” she whispers.

Your cock is rock hard right now. It’s difficult for you to focus, especially since your mother’s naked body is just begging for you to explore it further.

“You find me attractive. You like obeying me.”

“You’re attractive,” she says. “I like obeying you.”

“Deep down in your heart, you know I know what’s best for you.”

“You know what’s best for me, sweetie,” she croaks, eyes widening as if surprised.

You trail a hand up from her breast to caress the side of her face.

“When I asked how open you were to my suggestions on a scale of one to ten, you said three. You were wrong, weren’t you?”

Mom nods after a moment.

“Yes, I… was wrong.”

“What would you say the real number is now?” you ask.

“A seven, I think.” She doesn’t sound sure.

You smile.

“How many mothers do you think would strip naked for their sons if they asked?”

“Almost none,” Mom says.

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s… ****…”

You move your hand back to her breast and keep squeezing it.

“I’m sure that’s part of it, but there’s another big reason, too. Do you know what it is?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds.

“Sons are supposed to do what their mothers ask, not the other way around,” she nods.

“Exactly,” you tweak her nipples for emphasis, drawing a sharp gasp from her. Mercifully, her eyes remain completely blank. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Sons are supposed to do what their mothers ask, not the other way around. That’s how the mother-son dynamic usually works, but wouldn’t you agree that our dynamic is a lot different from the norm?”

“Yes.”

“How is our dynamic a lot different from the usual mother-son relationship?” you ask.

Mom licks her lips.

“A lot of ways.”

“Can you give me some examples?” you say.

“I don’t mind being naked around you. I let you tell me what to do. I’m…” she stops.

“You’re what?” you prod.

“I…”

“You’re comfortable around me. More comfortable than you are with anyone else. You can tell me anything.”

“I can tell you anything,” she agrees.

“Before, when I asked you to give me some examples of how our relationship is different from the norm, you trailed off after you told me you let me tell you what to do. What were you going to say?”

It’s so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I think you’re incredibly handsome,” she whispers. “Oh god.”

“You think I’m handsome?” you can’t resist asking her. You want to hear her say it again. To hear her voice that had for so long criticized you sing your praises.

“I think you’re incredibly handsome,” she actually corrects you, pouting slightly as she does so.

You shrug.

“Eh. Every mother tells her son that. That’s not unusual,” you say.

She doesn’t respond.

“Why is it unusual that you think I’m incredibly handsome? Don’t most mothers say that about their sons when they love them? I mean, the phrase, ‘a face only a mother could love’ exists for a reason, doesn’t it?”

Mom nods.

“It’s unusual because I’m attracted to you.”

“You are, aren’t you? You’re sexually attracted to your own son.”

Your mother doesn’t respond.

“You’re sexually attracted to me, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” she admits.

“You fantasize about the two of us in bed together. Of us kissing and having sex. Isn’t that right?”

“I…”

“You’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m comfortable around you.”

“More comfortable than you are around anyone else.”

“More than anyone else…” she says.

“You’re more comfortable around me than any man you’ve ever had sex with, including your husband, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she replies.

“You find me incredibly sexually attractive. You fantasize about how it’d feel for you to act on your feelings, don’t you?”

“I do,” she nearly gasps as the words exit her mouth.

“Are you still attracted to your husband?” you ask.

“No,” she answers immediately, a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

“Do you still have sex with him?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“How long has it been since you last had sex?”

“About six years,” she says.

Damn. No wonder Mom and Dad were so harsh with you when you were growing up. Their love life is in the fucking dumpster. Of course they’d find a way to take it out on someone.

“Why haven’t the two of you been having sex?” you ask.

Your mother sneers. “Because he can’t… get hard anymore.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. Now that, you didn’t expect.

“Are you serious? Dad has erectile dysfunction?”

She nods.

“How does that even work? He was checking out Sharon in the kitchen, so obviously he still has a sex drive.”

Your mother grimaces.

“Oh,” you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But maybe you can use this. “Sorry to break the news to you, Mom, but Dad looked like he wanted to bend Sharon over the kitchen counter and have his way with her.”

“He wanted to have his way with her,” she sounds hurt, but not particularly surprised.

“You sound like you think there’s a way he could do that. What aren’t you telling me?”

“He... he has pills to help him get erect. He said he doesn’t like taking them,” she remarks bitterly.

“So he can have sex, he just won’t take a measly little pill to make you happy?”

“He says there are side effects.”

You snort.

“If I were married to you and had that condition (I don’t, by the way), I wouldn’t care what side effects there were. I’d take the pills without hesitation. You know that, don’t you?”

Mom nods. “I know.”

“I’d be a much better husband to you than Dad could ever be.”

“A better husband,” her breath hitches.

Before you can say anything else, Mom blinks. When she opens her eyes, they’re no longer glazed over. Yet something has changed in her expression, in the way she sees you. A fond smile spreads across her face.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeeze her breasts again.

Abruptly, she looks downward.

“Oh,” she chuckles. “I don’t remember you grabbing my breasts. How strange. Was I in a trance just now?”

You briefly contemplate lying to her before deciding against it. If she’s asking, it’s more likely than not that she’s already made up her mind.

“Yeah. I hope that’s okay that I did that. I know a lot of women would be offended by it.”

She waves you off.

“Don’t worry about it. As far as I’m concerned, they pretty much belong to you.”

“Oh yeah?” you grin.

She matches your smile with one of her own.

“Mhm. So,” she looks around and sighs. “I think we’ve done enough yoga for the day.”

“You’re right. I don’t see you making any moves to go upstairs, though.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Well, I can’t exactly slip past your father in just my birthday suit,” at your raised eyebrows, she continues. “I can’t put my shorts or underwear back on without your permission.”

Oh. You’d completely forgotten you’d given her that command.

“In that case, you have my permission to put your clothes back on.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

She makes no move to gather her clothes and dress herself. She seems… content to just stand there right in front of you and let you play with her heavy tits.

“You’re still not moving, Mom.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“How very observant of you.”

The two of you share a chuckle.

“I’m really glad we did this. I like spending time with you,” you say.

“Me too,” her hands settle on your waist. “We should do this a lot more often. Find time just for the two of us. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you lately, but that stops right here and now. I promise.”

“Thanks,” you move your hands to her nipples and begin pinching them. Not too hard, you don’t want to hurt her (just yet).

She gasps and chews her lower lip. She takes her hands off your waist and instead wraps them around your neck. Her blue eyes are half-lidded as she stares into yours.

A silent communication passes between the two of you, and before you realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning towards her.

Never one to be passive, she meets you halfway and presses her lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and tender. You enjoy the feeling of her warm, plush lips pressed against your own. She moans between her lips and her hands grip the back of your neck possessively.

Something probes at the edge of your lips, and remembering your experiences with Sharon, you open them, allowing her tongue to probe your mouth. You reciprocate readily, entwining her tongue with yours for a few moments before pushing it into her mouth.

You take your hands off her breasts as moves closer to you, pressing her tits against you. You move your hands over to her asscheeks. She lets out a surprised moan as you start groping her big, juicy ass.

Abruptly, she breaks off the kiss. She shakes her head, a conflicted expression on her face.

“I… we…” she swallows, her eyes wide.

“I can’t do this,” she shakes her head and turns away from you.

“Wait. Mom, what’s wrong?” you put a hand on her shoulder. She moans softly, but then shakes you off.

“This!” she gestures down at herself and then at you. “Everything! We can’t be doing stuff like this! It’s wrong!”

She turns again and begins gathering her clothes. She starts putting her panties on first.

“Mom, is it really wrong if we’re both consenting adults who enjoy what we’re doing?”

Your mother glares at you.

“Yes, it’s still wrong. If… if we get caught, we could get into a lot of trouble. And not just with your father. I could lose my job. God, we could both get arrested! Our lives could be ruined!” she grits her teeth, but you note that she doesn’t deny enjoying herself.

“I’d gladly destroy my life if I got to be with you, even for just one day.”

She stops dressing herself and gazes at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Her eyes grow watery with tears.

“Mom, please. Just stop worrying and enjoy yourself,” you say.

She actually seems to consider it for a moment.

Mom shakes her head.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower and change. When I come down, it’ll be as if the last five minutes didn’t happen and we’ll never mention it again.”

“B-”

“If I hear another word out of your mouth about what just transpired, I’ll kick you out of this house. I mean it.”

It’s testament to the raw emotion behind her words that you don’t even consider invoking her trigger. Instead, you watch as she dresses and heads toward the stairs. Before she goes up, she spares you one last pained look. A single tear slides down her cheek.

And then she’s gone.

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