Mum says thank you

I was still sitting frozen in front of the laptop, my mum’s cum-smeared vibrator still half in my mouth, my dad’s stiff wedding silk handkerchief stuck to my cock. The anonymous folder had just gone live. Jeremy leaned in close to me, his breath hot against my ear.

“Listen carefully, you little wanker,” he hissed quietly and menacingly. “I filmed everything. You, sucking on your own mother’s vibrator while Jeremy’s cum is on your tongue and your father’s handkerchief is on your cock. A lovely little video. If you betray me – if you say a single word to your mummy – then I’ll send her this very video. With your face. With the dildo in your mouth. And then you’ll explain to her why you just came whilst tasting her used cunt. Got it?”

I just nodded silently, tears streaming down my cheeks. I hated him. I hated myself even more.

The next day came the message that made everything even worse.

I was sitting in my room when my mobile vibrated. Jeremy had forwarded me the chat history between him and my mum – with the comment, “Look how well I get on with your mummy, loser.”

**Mum:** Hi Jeremy, I just wanted to thank you again for looking after my son yesterday. He told me you were very strict with him. That was really kind of you!

**Jeremy:** No problem, Mrs Tachibana I was happy to do it. But I have to be honest – your son wasn’t particularly happy with me. He thought I was too strict and made it quite clear that he doesn’t want me to come round again. I don’t want to impose myself, of course.

**Mother:** Oh, come on… I’m sorry to hear that. I actually think you’re very likeable. It’s precisely that strictness that’s important with him. He needs a firm hand sometimes. I’d really be delighted if you came round again anyway. Maybe we could do something together next time?

Jeremy immediately started liking her old Instagram photos – the harmless ones, but also the ones where she was dressed a bit more revealingly. Within minutes, he’d sent her a few nice comments under her pictures. She replied with emojis. They became friends. Quickly. Far too quickly.

Meanwhile, I sat in front of my own laptop, staring at the porn site as if paralysed. The counter for the anonymous photos of my mum rose inexorably.

**1,247 views… 2,893… 5,612… 11,428…**

Every new visitor saw my mum’s plump tits, her wet cunt, her round arse – all without a face, but I knew for sure it was her. The comments below were getting dirtier and dirtier: “Horny Japanese MILF… would love to fill that cunt with cum” – “Those tits are perfect for fucking” – “More creampies from the slut, please”.

And I knew: Jeremy was watching live through the cameras at that very moment.

He was watching her at work too (he’d hacked into her company laptop and saw her sitting at her desk, smiling). He was watching her at home as well – through the new smoke detectors and hidden cameras. As she stepped out of the shower, naked, her plump breasts still wet. How she dried herself off. How she later stood in her bedroom and put on the off-the-shoulder mini-dress he’d stared at so greedily yesterday. He saw everything. And I knew it, because shortly afterwards he sent me a short video: a 10-second clip from the hidden camera in the bedroom, showing my mum bending over and pulling up her knickers. With the comment: “Look how hot your mummy looks when she thinks she’s alone ”

I sat there, the counter climbing to 18,000 views, and the humiliation was eating me alive.

My mum had no idea. Jeremy had everything now. And there was nothing I could do.

I sat in the living room that evening, staring at my mobile. Mum had gone out. Suddenly the door opened and Jeremy came in, grabbing me by the collar. “Off you go, back into the cupboard, loser. You can watch – but only through the camera. And shut your mouth.”

He locked me back in the cramped storage cupboard under the stairs, but this time he pressed an old mobile phone into my hand. The display showed the live feed from the hidden cameras in the house – crystal clear, covering every corner. “Enjoy the show,” he whispered, then he closed the door.

I didn’t know what he’d arranged beforehand. I found out later from the chat messages he sent me: Jeremy had hired a ‘nice man’ – exactly Mum’s type. Tall, well-groomed, Japanese-looking, early forties, suit, charming manner. His name was Hiroshi and he was supposedly an ‘old acquaintance’ from her company. Jeremy had paid him and told him exactly what to do. The date was a nightmare.

I only saw the messages and later the photos that Jeremy sent me. Hiroshi had dragged my mum to a posh bar. He ordered one drink after another, practically trying to get her drunk. His hands were everywhere – on her thigh under the table, at the neckline of her dress, once even right on her bum as he accompanied her to the loo. He became increasingly pushy, whispering in her ear that he wanted to ‘take her home right now’, that he was already hard and wanted to ‘finally give her a proper shag’. My mother was clearly uncomfortable, tried to politely brush him off, but was getting drunker and drunker. Then Jeremy turned up ‘by chance’.

He came into the bar, playing the concerned family friend. ‘Mrs Tachibana? Is everything alright?’ Hiroshi immediately became aggressive, but Jeremy remained calm and convincing, rescuing her from him. My mother was infinitely grateful to him. She clung to his arm as he drove her home. “You’re my saviour, Jeremy… I don’t know what I would have done without you…”

Now they were home. I sat in the dark, my mobile in my trembling hands, watching everything in real time via the hidden cameras.

My mother was quite drunk – she was swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed, her off-the-shoulder dress askew. Jeremy gently led her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed.

“May I help you, Mrs Tachibana?” he asked politely, almost concerned. “You’re quite drunk. I could help you change so you feel more comfortable… remove your make-up… and put some cosy pyjamas on you. Just so you can sleep well. Is that alright?”

My mother nodded dazedly, smiling gratefully. “Yes… please… you’re so sweet…” What followed was pure ****.

Jeremy slowly pulled the mini-dress over her head. As he did so, his hands “accidentally” brushed over her full breasts, kneading them briefly as he loosened the fabric. He pulled her knickers down – very slowly – running his fingers over her smooth-shaven pussy, parting her labia slightly and stroking her clit. My mother moaned softly, probably thinking it was just the ****.

Then he turned her round, “to put the pyjamas on more easily”, and groped her arse. He kneaded her plump cheeks, spread them briefly and ran his thumb over her tight arsehole. It all looked polite and caring – but I saw exactly how he was groping her.

He took photos. With his mobile. Close-ups of her bare tits, her cunt, her arse. As he slipped the pyjamas over her, he pulled the fabric extra slowly over her breasts and pinched her nipples. He even photographed her when she was almost asleep – lying half-naked on the sofa, legs slightly spread.

I sat in the cupboard, mobile phone clenched tightly in my hand, tears in my eyes, my cock rock-hard again. He’s saving her… and dishonouring her at the same time. And all I can do is watch.

The next morning, I sat at the breakfast table and stared at my mother. She looked… different. Freshly showered, in her light house dress, her cheeks slightly flushed. She smiled to herself as she drank her coffee – that small, shy smile she usually only had when she was thinking of something forbidden. I knew that smile. It scared me.

“Mum… what actually happened yesterday?” I asked cautiously, my voice still hoarse from crying in the room.

She set down her cup and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Oh, it was awful, darling. That Hiroshi… he was so pushy. He kept pestering me, wanted to get me drunk and… well, you know. But then Jeremy happened to come by. He saved me. He put that bloke in his place and took me home. I don’t know what I’d have done without him. After that… after that, I don’t remember much. I think I had a strange dream. A very… intense dream.”

She smiled that shy, almost embarrassed smile again and quickly looked away. I felt sick. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember how Jeremy undressed her, squeezed her tits, felt her pussy and her arse. But her body remembers. And that’s why she’s smiling.