Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 04

In a way, it was rather funny—only months ago, she was standing nervously as her son departed, but her apprehension at that time was about the fear of flying itself. Now, she really didn't feel anything about air travel anymore . . . she had far more pressing worries on her mind. Worries that only became compounded when she finally spotted her tall, handsome boy emerging from the gate and walking in her direction.

She waved to get his attention, but since he never looked up, she didn't know whether or not he had seen her. She kept it up, but he never looked up at her once. Already, she felt her heart leap into her throat. Once again, she went over just what she wanted to say. She was ready to beg him, to plead with him to forgive her and to help her put it all in the past. What they did was a mistake, and she would do anything to erase it and bring things back to the way they were.

At last, when he stepped within a few feet of her, his eyes finally rose to meet hers. She greeted him with a soft smile, holding her hands outward in apology.

"Barry, darling . . . I'm so sorry for everything. Could you ever for—"

All of a sudden, her voice was muffled, gagged by the force of her own son's mouth being pressed fiercely against her own. Ariadne froze, her eyes widened in panic—this outcome was the absolute last she had ever expected. Before she could form a single coherent thought, she felt her son's tongue moving through her mouth, seeking any moistness that it could find.

She enjoyed being in his clutches, being pulled so close by his strong, forceful hands. With her open eyes, she watched as others turned and glanced in their direction, noting the unusual sight of such a young man kissing such an older woman so passionately in the middle of an airport terminal. She was hardly the only woman even being kissed, but the stark contrast was worth at least a passing look.

It unbearably naughty . . . and none of these people could know who the two of them really were. Or, even if they did, what proof did they have? Who would dare to speak out what appeared to be a perfectly consensual May-December romance, without knowing that they were in fact, mother and son?

It would be so easy to lose herself now. To let herself disappear into that dark place.

But no, she had locked that side away . . . and Barry . . . well, he was just confused. So she pulled away from his kiss and then delivered a firm slap to the face.

"Stop that, Barry. It isn't right, and you know it!"

The look Barry shot at her almost broke her heart. Confusion, frustration, sadness . . . the poor boy was messed up worse than she thought.

And suddenly, she had forgotten everything she had practiced for up to that moment. All of the apologies, all of the begging and the explanation. It had all been right at the tip of her tongue . . . right up until the point when he sucked that tongue into his own mouth.

And now, she had nothing.

"Um . . . If you don't have any luggage, let's head to the car, okay?" she told him, turning on her heels and walking toward the exit.

His confused expression unerring, Barry slowly followed behind.

It was another awkward car ride at first, with Barry barely speaking—just staring at her with the same semi-confused, semi-frustrated glare. Ariadne's eyes darted from the road to her right once or twice, becoming more and more uncomfortable as the drive continued. Soon, it became utterly impossible for her to concentrate solely on driving.

"Do you hate me, Barry?"

"Right now, I'm just trying to understand you," he said with a sigh. "We never got to talk about it last time, but now I really need to know . . . what the hell was that? What we did?"

Ariadne bit her lip. "It was a mistake, Barry. That's all."

His eyes narrowed for a moment. "A mistake." He leaned his head back. "Well. That's good to know."

"I'm sorry," she told him remorsefully, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Hurt me!?" He exclaimed with a snort. "You made me feel better than I ever had in my life!"

Ariadne gasped—and not just from disbelief. Hearing those words coming from her son, after what they did together, instantly triggered a flood inside her womanhood.

Barry continued. "I come back home after a miserable three months in college, worried that with my luck, was on the fast track to ending freshman year as a total virgin . . . and then, BAM! My mom comes along and rescues me from that little dilemma."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. That one simple statement had dropped so many bombs on her that it was hard to even know where to begin. First, Barry was a virgin? She had never known. He always talked about the girls he dated and he was always staying late at "parties", so she thought he'd lost his cherry a long time ago. And second, his time at school was miserable?

Just what the heck was going on?!

"H-How come you never told me you were miserable at school?" she asked, ignoring the more poignant question.

He rubbed his fingers through his thick, sandy brown hair. "Because . . . you were expecting such big things from me. I don't have any grants or scholarships, so there you were paying this huge tuition for me, expecting me to make something of myself. But when I got to Fresno, I was derping hard. I didn't even know what major I wanted, so I just took random classes, and they absolutely sucked. I was getting below-average test scores, I tried out for football but only made the damn practice squad, I had a bunch of asshole roommates who liked to pull pranks all night and cover my mattress in dog urine, and I couldn't even meet a girl without her getting gang-banged by said asshole roommates."

He looked over at her again. "Yeah, mom. I'd say those first few months sucked."

Ariadne looked back at her son, her face etched with sympathy. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. But don't worry, you can leave if you want—"

Barry shook his head. "Didn't you hear the past tense, Ma? Those problems are done with now. I had a blast when I came back from Thanksgiving, and it's all thanks to you."

Again, she was flabbergasted. "M-Me?!"

"After we—made love—I was stunned, ya know? I couldn't believe that I did that . . . and with my own mom. I went back in my room and I sat thinking. And thinking. And thinking. I did a whoooole lot of thinking.

"Eventually, I came to one conclusion: that what we did had been incredible. I loved seeing you that way. And touching every inch of your gorgeous body, and . . . my orgasm was just unbelievable. But, I didn't know how you felt about it. I hadn't even stopped to see if you were drunk or high or delirious when it happened. I was worried that I'd taken advantage of you or something. And then, when you didn't want to talk about it, I felt even worse. So, I sat and thought about how I could make it up to you.

"I thought about it all the way back to Fresno, and by the time my plane landed, I had a plan. For the first time, I knew what I wanted to do. So, I went to the Student Employment office and asked if they had any internships for psychology."

"Psychology?" she repeated, surprised.

"Yes, I had decided that I wanted to go into a certain field of psychology—specifically, sexology."

Her mouth fell open.

"But, they didn't really have any internships open at the school. Psychology is actually a pretty popular field of study at Fresno, and all of the early birds had snatched up the relevant internships. I was completely screwed."

Now, Ariadne was growing only more confused. "So how did you—?"

"Luckily, I spoke to the work study working at the desk and told her what I was looking for and what I wanted to study. She was intrigued that I was so forthcoming about it, and after a little digging, she told me something shocking. It turned out, her name was Suzanna, and she was an up-and-coming porn star. There was a studio in Los Angeles where she did all her shooting and they were looking to hire some extra help. You know, fetching coffee for the actors, cleaning laundry, stuff like that."

"You cleaned porn stars' laundry?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but it wasn't as bad as you think. I wore gloves, and we always handled it with plastic bags. But anyway, the reason why I couldn't tell you what we were doing was because the studio wanted to avoid leaks. The porn industry is as competitive as any other media, and studios like to protect their bread and butter. On top of that, I didn't want any of my nosy roommates knowing. They were already giving me dirty looks when Suzanna came by to pick me up for our triweeklies to L.A., so I sure as hell didn't want them to know that I was involved in the porn industry."

She glanced at him nervously. "Did you ever . . . ah . . . act?"

"No. Although, Suzanna tried to, um, 'coax' me into it every now and again."

"'Coax' you?"

"Yeah. Suzanna and me . . . we . . . uh . . . we fucked quite a bit. Just not on camera."

Ariadne's brow clenched and her hand tightened around the steering wheel. Suzanna wasn't his girlfriend. She was just some porn harlot that had seduced her son. Ariadne seethed inside; the mental image fueling her rage. Some bitch had stuffed his dick in the same dirty spot where who-knew-how-many other unworthy cocks had been? Ariadne would've bet the farm that her pussy was looser than the ball pit at Fun Land.

Barry glanced at her and a smirk appeared. "Are you jealous, Mom?"

"No. So. Tell me how this 'internship' of yours helped you in school." In truth, she was burning inside, but he couldn't know that.

"Well, most of the people there were real helpful, believe it or not. I think I actually learned more from them than I would have from a psychology or sexology class. They didn't just tell me stuff—they showed me firsthand how it worked. They explained why the set up certain angles, why they chose certain guys for certain roles, and how costuming was important. They explained to me about certain fetishes, and how people got turned on from lots of different things. And I got to see it all in action, firsthand, rather than just learning about it in a class.

"Overall, I felt more excited about being there. My classes seemed less boring, my test scores improved, and my roommates didn't get to me as much as before. I think my relationship with Suzanna did the trick—it earned their respect. Working with porn improved my dorm life in every possible way, really. Who'da thought?

"And the actresses were nice, too—No, don't worry, Mom . . . I didn't sleep with anyone other than Suzanna . . . you can turn the glare off now—and they told me how to dress and how to act around women to turn them on. They taught me how to please a woman . . . and that's what ultimately led me to sex with Suzanna. But, there wasn't anything deep between us. To her, I was a convenient cock. For me, she was practice."

"Practice?" Ariadne inquired. "Practice for what?"

Barry paused, licking his teeth nervously. A nervous hand inched closer and touched his mother's thigh.

"Mom, what we did . . . I never forgot it. And . . . I want to do it again."

Her entire body shook. The combination of his words and his touch caused her to nearly swerve off-road. She could feel her heart beating faster in her chest, her mouth salivating, and wetness forming between her legs.

She could feel the door opening.

"Barry, sweetheart, like I said . . . what we did was a mistake . . ."

"Maybe, but mistakes don't have to be bad," he said, rubbing her thigh gently.

She almost moaned right then, but collected herself. "Not this time, honey. Do you know how nervous I've been since you left? How worried I was that I'd ruined your life? I don't think I could go through that again . . ."

"But now you know that you didn't, Mom. If anything, you made my life better than I'd ever hoped."

"I turned you into a . . . a porn errand boy!"

"So? The porn industry is just a healthy business, like any other. Sure, it's smut, but it's more honest smut than what they make in Hollywood." His hand moved from her thigh and gripped her hand. "Can't you see that this is what I want? I love you, Mom. And I know you've been lonely ever since Dad died. So, let me do this. Let me make up for the twelve years I've been a pain your ass. I loved our first time, and I know you enjoyed it, too, Mom. I can see the excitement in your eyes from just talking about it."

She swallowed agitatedly. It was happening again . . . she could feel the "slut" peeking through, struggling to get a foothold. She couldn't let it happen. Barry was just a boy. He didn't know what he really wanted. He was just thinking with his hormones.

"Barry, what we did that night . . . that wasn't me, honey."

"Huh? Were you drunk or something, Ma?"

"No, baby . . . but, I wasn't in my right mind nonetheless. What you should understand is that, sometimes, this other side of me comes out. This 'other woman'. She's me, but she's not. She's—"

"Your 'slut side'?"

Yet again, her son dropped another bomb. "How . . . how did you . . .!?"

Barry chuckled. "Oh please, Mom. I've worked in porn for the past half-year. Did you really think that I hadn't heard about a woman's 'slut' side? Or, did you just think you were the only one? I met all kinds of women on the set at that studio—mothers, teachers, nurses, lawyers—both in front of and behind the camera. Plenty of them told me about how there was this other side of themselves they just 'let loose' every now and again. When they were on camera, sucking a dick or getting double-fucked, they let the slut take control so they could just sit back and enjoy the ride. And when it was over, they went back home to their boyfriends, their husbands, their kids, and they lived normal lives."

He squeezed her thigh. "But you need to understand that that slut is still you. It's unhealthy to try and keep it caged, because it only comes out stronger later. If I was the first guy who got to see yours in action, then I feel very lucky. I saw a side to my mother that no one had ever seen before. And . . . I want to see it again."

She couldn't believe it. She was losing this argument. After she'd worked so hard for the past five months to keep that side of herself excised and hidden away, her son was able to undo it all in just a few minutes. As she pulled into their driveway, Ariadne leapt out of the car as quickly as she could, rushing toward the front door.

"Barry . . .stay away from me. I . . . I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this praise from you. Don't try to treat me like I - I'm normal."

He got out of the car and chased her. "But you are, Mom. You're a completely normal, healthy woman, and I love you. Let me share this with you. Please."

She fumbled with the key in the lock and he walked behind her, pressing his body against her back.

Memories of Stewie, and the night they conceived their son, flashed into her mind. He had been close just like this . . .

"No, Barry," she said, struggling with the key again. "What would your father say? How would he feel knowing that the two of us—?"

"I think Dad would have wanted you to move on," Barry told her, "and I'm almost certain that he would want me to get laid. This way, we can do both."

"That's . . . that's just wrong," she protested.

He leaned closer and kissed the back of her neck, sliding his hands onto her hips. It was just like Stewie had done, 18 years earlier. "But you love it. You pretend to hate the slut in you, but deep down, you want her to win, don't you?"

Her legs were quivering. She had long since stopped working on the key, and now, her front was mashed against the door as her son gently nibbled her ear. She could feel her willpower crumbling, the forbidden door opening wider.

Breathless, she turned to face him, staring into his eyes with an aura of love, of need, and of defeat. "Barry, honey . . . if I do this . . . if I let her out again, I'll never be able to put her back in. I can feel her. She's too strong. I'll be a complete and total slut, unable to know right from wrong." Her tears began flowing. "How would I be able to control myself again?"

He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, gently, lovingly. He held her in his arms—not just as a man holding a conquest . . . but as a lover holding a woman he deeply cared for.

"Oh, I think I can handle her," he assured her. "I told you, Ma. Your boy has learned some new tricks."

He turned the key and hammered the door open with the flat of his fist. Reaching down, he scooped his mothers legs and held her entire body in his arms, carrying her across the threshold like a bride. After kicking the door closed with his foot, he kissed her again. She didn't fight anymore; she merely held onto his neck, surrendering as their lips locked and tongues wrestled.

Barry took her to the bedroom, where upon he tossed her face-first onto the edge of her bed. He reached under her skirt and found her fragile pair of panties, gripping them with both hands and literary ripping them from her pelvis.

"I'll show you," he said, undoing his buckle. "The way I tame a slut."

She gaped over her shoulder, breathlessly, watching him pull his pants to the floor. She kept her hands flat on the mattress, her ass risen in anxious anticipation. She licked her lips as he stepped toward her, and yelped excitedly when his hands grasped her hips.

She felt 'the slut' bursting free, kicking the door clear off its hinges.

"Yes! Fuck me! Hurry!!" she exclaimed lustfully.

Barry hardly needed any instruction. He placed his cock swiftly at her entrance and took one more step until it sank in deep. He didn't go slow, and he wasn't shy. He just thrust his cock all the way into his mother's pussy and began to pound away mercilessly.

"God yes, Barry," Ariadne gasped as he felt his hips slam against her ass with every thrust. "Jesus, what was I thinking?! Why did I want to fight this!?"

Barry's hands gripped the meat of her ass tightly, pinching her flesh. "Don't turn around. Just face forward and enjoy it. And keep your hands gripped on those sheets. You aren't really my Mom right now. You're just a slut inside her body."

A shiver went through as he called her that. Never before had that word sounded so good. "Yes, I'm a slut. I'm your slut, honey. Treat me like one!"

"I don't need to be told that . . . slut," he said, striking her left cheek with a mighty smack. She yelled in both pain and pleasure, overjoyed to be treated so forcefully by her own son.

Already, she could tell that something was different. The slut inside of her was free, but she couldn't take control. Ariadne felt no inhibitions, no reservations about being fucked, but her lust was still being held in check. Controlled, somehow.

"Oh, Barry," she gasped, rubbing her foot gingerly against his naked leg. "What are you doing to me, baby?"

"I'm turning you into a slut, Mom," he told her, thrusting deep at that last word. "But, I'm turning you into my slut."

"Oh, yeeeesssss," she moaned, daring to glance over her shoulder. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it, it's yours. Do to me whatever you want."

"I told you to look straight and keep your hands on the sheets, slut," Barry demanded, slipping his arms under her pits and reaching around to squeeze her breasts through her blouse. He then tore it open from the front, just like the way he ripped her panties off, shredding a huge hole that enabled her huge breasts to burst free. He gripped her tits hard, mauled them, before placing his hand her back and spiking her head face-first into the mattress again.

The unexpected jolt of being controlled—of being outright conquered—sparked an orgasm which brought tears to Ariadne's eyes. It was the single most intense climax she'd had in her life. And when she looked forward and saw the image of her son thrusting his cock into his mother's pussy from behind, rocking her entire body forward and back again, the excitement was only prolonged.