TABOO TALES(erotica)

When the shamed mother opened her eyes, her wrists had been untied and she was bent over the bed rail. She levered herself up until the bed finial cleared her cunt and picked up her robe from the floor, wrapping it around her sore ass and breasts.

She went to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee and saw Matt sitting at the table, but in her shame she avoided eye contact. Not until she saw the spatula lying in the kitchen sink did the debased memories of last night slowly come back to her. Yet she was also shamed to admit the memories of her beating last night were yet again exciting her. She had to keep her hand from rubbing her pussy right there in the kitchen. Last night Matthew had been so forceful, so vehement when she’d spoken to him like a bad girl. If only he had already left the house.

“Mother, make waffles for us.”

“You’re not going to pour the hot batter on me, are you?” she asked apprehensively, remembering what had occurred with the previous batch.

Matt laughed. “No, I promise-unless you burn them!”

“All right,” she agreed apprehensively.

When she had added the ingredients to a bowl, he said, “Mix the batter here by me at the table.” Warily, she moved the bowl and mixer from the counter to the table. He was sitting on the edge of his chair. Matt noted she was nervous, mixing too quickly and that the bowl was unstable. Surreptitiously, pretending to be reading the paper, he inserted his hand underneath her robe. “Still sore from last night and this morning?” he asked as he smacked her bare ass.

“Owww!” she yelled, jumping from surprise and pain, the mixer knocking over the off-balance bowl, as he’d foreseen. The batter cascaded onto his lap and the floor between his legs.

“Uh oh. A real mess,” he said, admonishingly, handing her a cloth napkin. “Get down on your knees and clean it up.” She stood motionless, her chest heaving.

“I assume you’re going to punish me for this?” she gasped hoarsely, staring at the disgraceful floor. He pulled so hard on the hem of her nightgown that it slid off her shoulder, exposing the upper half of her breast. Before the whole breast appeared, she turned to face him and knelt in one motion, seeing that batter was dripping from his groin to the floor. “Take off your nightgown so you don’t make a mess of it as well.” She pulled it off. I’m naked, kneeling in front of my son like his slave in the middle of the kitchen, she thought.

Matt leaned forward, his robe opening, and his cock came into view, coated with batter. She stared at it, transfixed. “Lick the batter off the floor.”

“Is that my punishment?”

Matt laughed. “No, that’s cleanup, or an example of discipline. Your punishments will always be painful.” When she remained stationary, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed down until her pendulous breasts ground into the batter on the floor. Powerless and humiliated, her tongue lapped up a couple of loads. Satisfied, Matt grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled back on her hair until she was vertical, her breasts splotched with the thick batter, heavy gobs dripping onto her thighs.

He put his hands behind her head and pulled it to his member. “Kiss it clean,” he commanded. She looked up at him, wondering if he was teasing her again. She moaned in anticipation and her big lips met the head and lovingly kissed the crown. “Lick it clean,” he groaned. Her lips opened and her long tongue began to slowly lave the head, swirling over the top and bottom. She was transported. “Clean all of it.” With agonizing slowness, she lowered her head until she had the whole cock in her mouth. “Unnhhh,” he moaned. None of the high school girls had been able or willing to ever deep-throat him.

Unbidden, her hand kneaded his balls, which were hanging off the front of the chair. She sucked him slowly, withdrawing till only the tip remained inside her mouth, then reversing with agonizing slowness till she engulfed all of him. One finger caressed his perineum as she continued massaging his balls. She looked into his eyes frequently, her own eyes glazed with lust. When he was ready to shoot, he forced her mouth off his dick and held her hands together, palms up, in front of his jerking cock. She groaned, unhappy that he wasn’t going to shoot in her mouth, desperate for a fresh load of his sweet jism. He stroked himself a few times and unloaded a huge discharge onto her hands. When he’d extracted the last strands of cum, he pushed her adjoining palms up and slapped them into her face as she cried out in shame and surprise.

Startled, Janice knelt there, ropes of hot cum streaming off her inundated face and spreading across her breasts. She licked whatever spunk her long tongue could reach from her lips. She hoped her son liked her cocksucking. She knew she deserved no less than to kneel at his feet, naked and debased, watching his reddened cock bob in front of her cum-covered face. However demeaning he decided to treat her, it was nothing less than what she deserved for being careless in the kitchen and spilling the batter, only the latest example of being a bad mother.

“You want it all, don’t you?” Eyes hooded, she nodded, understanding him perfectly. Her amazing talent for denial and justification had totally collapsed. “Okay, you have my permission,” he granted. She scooped up the jism from her forehead and cheeks and sucked it into her mouth, closing her eyes in rapt pleasure at the taste. He watched, leering as she licked every drop of thick jizz off her fingers. He stood. “Clean this up and make it fast. You have to start packing for your trip.”

“Yes, Matthew.”

Chapter Eleven – Vacation and Homecoming

All day, Janice was tired from her hangover. The sexy mother’s morning was busy, preparing for a weeklong vacation out-of-town with her older sister, Darielle. In the afternoon, Janice was relieved again to find a phone message from Matt, her teenage son, saying that he couldn’t avoid having dinner at his best friend’s house. By the time he arrived home, she was already asleep.

That night, sitting in the kitchen the evening before her departure, she’d added a new entry to her diary. She’d been strangely attracted to the thick, black leather book when she’d seen it in a stationery shop. She stroked the fine, lustrous leather. Black was one of her favorite colors. It reminded her of the short but thick head of ebony hair she loved. Her den was designed with black leather furniture and tables. Much of her clothing and lingerie (her baby dolls were exceptions) were also black.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

However, in the hectic rush of last-minute packing the next morning to make her plane, she’d forgotten to check if she’d left the diary in the kitchen. She thought, with a growing sense of dread, that she’d left it exposed in a corner of the kitchen. She could have easily overlooked it, especially since she’d had no time for even a quick breakfast. Nor had she seen Matthew before rushing out the door, leaving her bedroom strewn with clothes and the kitchen piled with pots and dishes.

Janice admired Darielle, who was two inches taller and had always had a self-assured, commanding demeanor. But they also had a complicated relationship. Darielle was tall, but a bit scrawny and bony. She’d always been jealous of Janice’s sultry beauty and success with boys and men. The male staff couldn’t stop discreetly ogling Janice’s voluptuous body, which did not escape Darielle’s notice. It was not a relaxing vacation. Darielle noticed that Janice was preoccupied, and when asked, Janice said she’d slept little since she was away from home. It was true that she was restless at night, not because she was in a hotel bed, but because she couldn’t remember returning her private diary to its secret place on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. Plus, she thought obsessively about new entries for the book.

She returned home from her trip on Friday, a couple of days earlier than Darielle. When asked why, Janice explained to Darielle that since Matthew was spending his last few weeks at home before going away to college, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, and didn’t want him to be alone all weekend. She was devoted to her son, especially since men, with the exception of that drunken blowjob at the country club, were no longer a factor in her life. Since her divorce, she could never bring herself to go dating or clubbing, and she was too shy to go to most parties. Besides, that young guy at the club was more of a boy than a man.

“You don’t have to worry about a boy like Matthew,” Darielle had said. With his good looks and brains? He’ll be fine.” As he’d done before Janice left, Matthew spent as much time as possible every day researching on the web. He thought of his submissive mother and-as she did-replayed their scenes repeatedly. He also planned and fantasized about taking her to a new level upon her return. Yet he found it impossible to resist jacking off at least 23 times a day. However, he would beat off into a glass or dish, then save his ejaculate in the rear of the refrigerator. After several days, it had grown to quite a fair amount.

The truth was that Janice also found it impossible to relax on the vacation and slept fitfully. During the day, lying on the beach or at the resort’s pool, she kept remembering her pool at home: how he’d made her bare her breasts, how he’d sadistically immersed them in the hot sun block, the texture of his beautiful penis’ skin in the hot sunlight, the hot torrent of his semen inundating her face, the vulnerability of her bound wrists and knees, the discomfort and swelling of her bound breasts. Lying at the resort in her provocatively revealing bikini, Janice wondered if she’d be free to dress the same next year, or if her body would be striped with Matthew’s marks, so she’d have to wear a caftan in public.

Darielle was aware of how distracted her sister was but could not possibly guess the reason. Since they were away for only a week, Darielle thought it odd that Janice placed a photo of Matt in his swim trunks on her night table, but no more than a little odd.

At night, Janice kept thinking of how her naked pussy felt when Matt had beat it with the spatula, the length and thickness of his semi-hard, swaying cock when she’d woken him that morning, how she couldn’t resist licking up all the cum he’d deposited on her brazen photos, even though his spunk was cold and congealed. She wondered when he’d order her to again suck him dry, and whether he would begin striking her more severely.

Since the sisters shared a queen bed, Janice’s restlessness affected Darielle’s sleep. Janice remembered every second of kneeling nude in front of her son in the kitchen, kissing, licking and deep-throating his fantastic cock till he shot an incredible load onto her hands. She recalled the burning sensation when he slapped her palms into her face, deserving the degrading experience. That was the second time her face had been covered with his discharge.

Moreover, Janice had no memory of where she’d left her diary. She became increasingly preoccupied with its whereabouts. Besides, her place was at home, available to take care of her son’s needs. She decided to return early. Darielle wasn’t pleased but didn’t object.

Upon arriving home from the airport, Janice went straight to the kitchen, nervous. The diary was nowhere in sight. She went upstairs like a shot but could not find the book in her closet either. She began perspiring in the hot, close closet. The sweaty leotard she still wore from the gym was clinging to her. She searched under her bed, in her lingerie drawer and in her bathroom hamper, all without luck.