Trying to pay my bill

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Sexy Submissive Mother and her Dominant Teenage Son

This is a story of a woman who suffers the tragic loss of her husband, only to find her long-held desire to be dominated satisfied by her teenage son. Together they explore the roles of dominant and submissive, leading to pleasure through surrender that neither could have imagined https://gay** .

This is a work of fiction and I have no desire to participate in incest or sex with a minor, nor do I condone it. Should you find yourself considering either please seek professional help.

As this is my first story I welcome your comments regardless of whether they are positive or negative. However if they are negative I ask you to consider two points. Firstly, this is my fantasy and if you feel it would have been better if I included this or excluded that, then you should write a story that reflects your preferences. Secondly, please be kind! There are far too many anonymous keyboard warriors, who post comments they would never convey in person, and this cowardice.

So I hope you enjoy my simple tale, and if I receive positive comments I will write another!


I stood before the full-length mirror, carefully checking to ensure every detail was perfect before my lover arrived. My mother was Armenian and I inherited her olive complexion and jet-black hair, which was up in a high ponytail as Kyle preferred. My makeup was flawless, with mascara and glitter eye shadow framing my hazel eyes and gloss red lipstick providing the perfect pout. Large circular earrings dangled from my lobes, tiny diamantes that spelt the word ** glittering in the sunlight streaming through the window.

A studded leather collar was strapped around my neck, with slim chains that trailed down to the rings that pierced my nipples and **-hood, something Kyle arranged soon after we started **ing. An indigo quarter-cup bra pushed my firm C-cup breasts upward, matched by G-string panties that framed my shaved ** to perfection. I did a slow turn, careful not to stumble on my platform pumps with seven-inch spike heels, bending forward as I spread my cheeks to reveal the glass plug nestled tightly in my butt. I couldn’t resist a satisfied smile, knowing Kyle would love my look though he was unlikely to acknowledge it. The clock on the side table confirmed I had a few minutes so I walked downstairs, poured a glass of wine and sat on the lounge to wait, loving the decadent feeling of the thick plug pushing deeper under my modest weight.

Oh, I should mention the man **ing me in every imaginable way is my sixteen-year old son, so perhaps I should provide a little background as to how this situation unfolded.

I’m in my late-thirties and take care of my body, enjoying the way it draws admiring glances when I rock a tiny bikini at the local beach. Allan and I married in our early twenties and decided to start our family soon after, delighted to welcome the birth of our son. Complications with the delivery meant he would never have a brother or sister, something we regretted for some time. Being intelligent, career-minded people we rose the corporate ranks, enjoying the comforts of executive salaries without realizing single children have specific needs. We purchased a luxurious home, decorated it with taste and enjoyed driving prestige cars, dining out and regular overseas holidays. While we gave Kyle the love and attention we felt he needed, we overlooked a teenager developing a serious “couldn’t give a **” attitude.

Six months ago Allan suffered a severe brain aneurysm which resulted in a massive stoke. For weeks he lay unresponsive in ICU, until I was faced with the heartbreaking decision to turn off his life-support with a final goodbye kiss. The partner I intended spending the rest of my life with was gone, and it took some time to accept I was a widow at a young age. Allan was everything I wanted, apart from in the bedroom. Sure, he was a considerate, attentive lover who went out of his away to ensure I was satisfied, but my needs had changed. In corporate life I was a senior executive responsible for over one thousand employees, but in the privacy of my home I wanted a lover who would take charge, do whatever he wanted and use me for his pleasure. We discussed this several times and he certainly tried, but it wasn’t in his nature to be the dominant partner I increasingly craved .

Once I had given myself time to grieve, I took the first hesitant steps to rebuild my life. Thankfully, we both had substantial insurance policies so there were no financial concerns, and I enjoyed my career and couldn’t imagine taking a step back. But I had time on my hands, slept in an empty bed, and the prospect of trawling through dating sites seemed pointless as most eligible men would lose interest as soon as I mentioned my teenage son. It seemed fate had tied my hands, or had it?

Initially I didn’t realize I was looking at Kyle differently, but certainly not in a sexual way. I found myself attracted to his attitude despite the off-hand and sometimes rude way he spoke to me. I made a point of spending time with him and at times he was pleasant company, others would see him ignore me and pay more attention to his cell or disappear into his room. As time passed, I found myself admiring him physically and, while I have a mother’s bias, he was an attractive young man. Tall with a handsomely masculine face, broad-shouldered and sporting a chiseled six-pack from school football.

Around two months ago I realized I was thinking of him sexually, looking beyond his casual rugged appearance and the persona that went with it. I started fantasizing about taking him as a lover, masturbating in the privacy of my bedroom as I envisaged his proud ** **ing me. My fantasies grew darker, imaging him taking me anally, tying me up and whipping me, and satisfying my desire to be dominated.

I began dressing provocatively, wearing short skirts and skimpy tops with no bra, hoping he’d sneak a surreptitious glance. I caught the occasional peek but nothing more, so I took every opportunity to brush against him or make a show of getting something from a high cupboard so my skirt would ride up, but my efforts were futile.

I checked his computer browser and knew he regularly visited porn sites, and with my level of frustration building decided to throw caution to the winds with a more direct approach. It was a Friday night and he’d gone to his room as usual, so I crept down the hall to see flickering light under the door. With no TV in his room this had to be his computer, so I went to my room and tore my clothes off, praying he was watching porn and not some harmless Youtube video. I slipped into a backless halter mini-dress with a plunging neckline, strapped on a pair of killer heels and strode back to his door. With trembling hands I opened the door to find him naked on his bed, watching porn while stroking his impressively thick, seven-inch **.

I’m not sure what reaction I expected to my rude interruption, perhaps embarrassment or a mortified response to being caught, but what I received was blazing teenage anger.

“What the ** Mom! You don’t get you should knock before you just barge in?” To my amazement he kept stroking his shaft and made no attempt to hide his screen or mute the sound. “Are you **ing bored or something? Did you figure you’d just walk in and watch me jack-off?”

His eyes locked on mine, his lips forming a sneer of derision as he waited for me to reply or leave, clearly not caring which. I had one chance to bring this back on track so I tried to mimic his sneer as I replied. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re blind or just plain stupid. You keep disappearing into your room and there’s no surprise why, while I’ve been dressing in sexy clothes and giving you signals that I’m interested. But it seems you’d rather watch porn and jerk off when you could have the real thing? Seems like a dumb choice to me!”


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