tagIncest/TabooExtortion

Extortion

byG. H. Lawrence©

I

It was about 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon, and I was sitting in the den watching a porno movie.

The picture quality was terrible, but that was expected. It was spy porn, captured by a camera hidden in a motel room. The video, which resembled convenience store surveillance footage, showed a cheap bedspread with a teal fleur-de-lys pattern. Beside the bed, light crept under a set of heavy curtains drawn over the window.

On the bed, a woman was sucking a man's cock. Both were completely nude. He looked about 45, with a big bald spot on the back of his head and a flabby gut that made his legs seem skinny. He was swarthy with body hair and his cock looked decently large, maybe eight or nine inches.

“Oh, yeah, suck it, Kate,” he moaned.

The woman looked younger, about 30, and was spectacular. Both her coiffure and her trimmed beaver were medium-brown. Her bronzed skin was flawless, and her figure just wouldn't quit. Her legs were long and perfectly tapered. Her hips were full but not overly so for her height and frame—she was about a five-foot-six and relatively lithe. Her stomach was flat and her waist was narrow.

And her tits—oh, man, her tits. They were massive, easily a DD cup and probably a DDD or E. They were real, too, riding close together like two huge, supple eggs. They shimmied and bounced against each other while she pumped her fist up and down her partner's thick cock. She sneered at the man and licked her lips like a porn movie actress. One might guess that she was a very expensive prostitute and he was a wealthy businessman.

“You ready for it, baby?” the man asked. The woman reached across and took a condom packet from the nightstand. A quick tearing sound cut through the room, then the woman took the rolled prophylactic in her mouth. She went down on the man once more, methodically this time, unrolling the condom on his shaft. Nice. None of my many teenage girlfriends had ever done that to me.

The intercourse was hot, in a perfunctory way. They started in the missionary position, the beautiful woman's huge, firm-looking breasts widening as she lay back and the man mounted her. Inside her, he pumped somewhat robotically; I watched his saggy butt hump up and down between her legs and wished the fixed camera angle had captured the penetration. Clearly, this wasn't the first time this couple had fucked. By now, the man had used up all his moves and the woman was getting bored.

Then the view got a lot better. The man rolled off the woman and she mounted him. Riding cowgirl-style, she flexed her gorgeous figure up down while the man groped her. This time I could see the penetration, and I felt my own big tool grow rock-hard in my pants as I watched the hemispheres of her shapely ass move up and down on his dong.

“Ooh, yeah, baby, go for it,” the man seethed.

Even the view of his cock going into her was nothing, however, compared to the sight of her big rack heaving mightily. The man liked this, too, his eyes widening and fixing on her tanks as they lurched up and down. He reached up and cupped his hands under them. Lucky bastard.

Then he slid his hands down to her waist and she arched her back proudly. Those big tits practically exploded off her chest, vaulting out like two huge, soft gourds.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. “Oh, Christ, yes.” I had seen this woman before, you understand, but never like this. Never even naked. I squeezed my throbbing cock through my pants, desperately wanting to whip it out and jack off right then and there. I had jacked off to her so many times already. But I didn't dare this time. I had better plans for my cock. Much better plans.

The woman's fantastic breasts were too much for her partner. Groaning, he bucked his hips and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Oh, baby, I'm—ohhhhhhhh. Ungggggh! Yeahhhhhh! Oh!” He had just shot his load into the condom. The session was over.

The woman stared down at him with pursed lips and then dismounted. She clearly hadn't had an orgasm of her own. She lay beside him, offering another long, unobstructed frontal view of her incredible body. Jesus. The man lit a cigarette for himself, then offered her one. She declined.

“You know, Jim,” she said, folding her arms behind her head, “You've got a nice big dick but you don't last long enough.”

“Sorry, babe,” he said.

While they pillow-talked on the videotape, I heard a car outside in the driveway. I quickly hit the mute button and listened for the front door. It opened a minute later and I heard a pair of heels clicking on the stone floor of the foyer. My mother was home.

Normally, this would have caused a moment of sheer panic. I was 18 years old, a senior in high school, and here I was watching a sex video in my parents' den. Under normal circumstances, I would have frantically yanked the tape from the VCR and dashed up the back stairs to my bedroom.

Not this time, however. Today was different. Today was far from normal. If things went as planned, today was going to be the greatest day ever.

You see, the hot woman on the hidden-camera sex tape was no porn star or hooker.

She was my mother.

I had long suspected her of having affairs, and with this video, which I had made two days prior, I now had her dead to rights. If Dad knew, it would crush him. He adored my mother for reasons I never quite understood.

Dad wasn't going to find out, however, if I got my way. This is where the whole thing gets really twisted, so keep reading only if you dare. See, I didn’t plan to show Dad the tape. I planned to show it to Mom, however, and I was going to blackmail her with it.

What did I want, you wonder? A new car? Nah, I already had a Mustang convertible. Money? I had plenty of money from the cushy summer office jobs I'd worked. That was ordinary stuff. There in the VCR was the smoking gun from hell, and I wanted something really good in exchange. Something unthinkable. Something I'd remember for the rest of my life.

I wanted what the guy on the tape got. I wanted to fuck my mother.

II

I hit the rewind button and headed casually down the long hallway to the kitchen. En route, I began to have second thoughts about my plan. Would it work? Was it too sick even to try? Was there something seriously wrong with me? Sure, Freud said all men want to bone their mothers, but he never said it was okay to actually do it.

As I walked into the kitchen, I had momentarily given up on my scheme and was looking forward to a normal evening, not a weird one. Funny how sex can scare you that way. Then I saw Mom, who was putting a six-pack of mineral water in the refrigerator, and my cock stirred again. Lord, what a woman. She was wearing a navy blue cotton skirt that rode snugly down over her hips and thighs and ended a few inches above the knee. From there, her silky legs descended into a pair of blue platform sandals. Her toenails were crimson and perfect.

The top half was even better. Her big tits were practically pushing the front of her pearl silk blouse into a different zip code. I could see a tantalizing hint of her massive cleavage swelling and jiggling as she closed the fridge. What an hourglass. Mom was 36 but had the figure of a 20-year-old. During a moment like this, I usually undressed her in my mind. Now, thanks to that tape, however, I no longer needed to. I knew how incredible she looked naked, how firm and perfect her body was. I had seen everything—her tits, her ass, her beaver, everything, and it was all just as hot as I had envisioned.

Yes, I wanted to fuck her. Nothing else mattered just then. My plan was suddenly back in action.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi, Peter. Did you mow the back yard yet?”

“Not yet.” Mowing the back yard was my Thursday afternoon chore.

“Well, you'd better get moving before it gets dark.” She was right. We had a big back yard.

“Yeah, I will,” I said. “But first there's something I want to show you.”

“What?”

“Uh, it's a video.”

“Oh, Peter, this isn't another tape from football practice, is it? I really don't have time—”

“No, it's not another football practice. It's a surprise.”

“Okay, let me get a drink and I'll be there in a minute.”

I headed back to the den to wait. After five minutes, which seemed like ten years, her heels came clicking down the hallway. She walked into the den with a Tanquerey and tonic in a crystal rock tumbler, the ice tinkling like a tiny xylophone. Her huge breasts were bouncing youthfully inside her blouse. I let my eyes linger on them a little longer than usual, and she noticed.

“Peter, what did I tell you about staring at my chest?”

“Sorry.”

“My big breasts attract enough attention out in public, so the last thing I need is for my own son to gape at them at home.”

“I'll control myself.”

After today, I thought, I won't ever need to stare again. I'll just glance in her direction and think, been there, done that.

“Come on, Peter, show me whatever this surprise is. I've got things to do.”

“I'm glad you made yourself that drink,” I said. “You're gonna need it.”

“Why?” she asked with a note of alarm.

I hit the play button and the tape rolled from the beginning. There was a second or two of static fuzz, then the empty motel room appeared.

“What is this?” she asked with even more concern.

“Oh, it's just something I taped a couple of days ago.”

“Where did—”

Her question trailed off as the motel room door opened and the lunchtime lovers entered.

I glanced at Mom, who had just recognized herself. “Oh, my god,” she whispered. “Oh, my god.” She put her face her hands for a few seconds and then looked at the screen again, where she and her pudgy partner were standing beside the bed. He was kissing her neck and cupping his hands under her jugs through her sweater.

“Man, that guy can't keep his hands off those big tits of yours,” I said. I had never said anything like that to Mom, and it felt raw and scary coming out.

Still in shock, she didn't even hear me. “Peter how did you get this tape?” she asked, her lower lip quivering.

“I made it myself,” I said. “Last week I followed you to that motel. The desk clerk said you and the guy always come every Tuesday around one o'clock. So this Tuesday morning I went back there a couple of hours early and gave the clerk fifty bucks to let me install the camera in one of the rooms. Then he promised to give you that room. As you can see, he made good on his promise.”

On the screen, Mom's sweater was off and her partner was licking the slopes of her tits between the huge cups of her full-coverage bra while she fumbled with his belt buckle.

“Turn it off, Peter, please. I don't want you to see this.”

“Are you crazy? Do you think I haven't watched it already? I've seen the whole thing, Mom. I've seen it all. I've seen your gorgeous naked body while you suck his cock—”

“Peter, stop it!”

“—then I've seen those fantastic tits heaving while you ride the lucky bastard.” “No, no, no,” she moaned, burying her face in her hands again.

“But frankly, Mom, you'd didn't seem satisfied at the end. How long have you been fucking this guy?”

“Peter, don't talk like that.”

“Oh, that doesn't matter now. How long?”

“A couple of months. I don't think we should discuss this.”

“Well, the real question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“It's not your concern. I'll stop seeing Greg. It's over.”

“You're not going to tell Dad?”

“No, no, it would kill him. Do you want to see him hurt?”

“No, and you don't want to be divorced and penniless, do you?”

“Peter, what has come over you? Everyone makes mistakes, young man.”

“And people have to pay for their mistakes.”

“Peter, believe me, just sitting here with you and seeing this is bad enough for me.”

“Well, that's not good enough for me.”

“What?”

“Listen, do you want me to give this tape to Dad, or don't you?”

“What are you getting at?” she asked morbidly.

A long silence fell.

“Oh, I see, you're blackmailing me. You're blackmailing your own mother. Jesus Christ, you’ve got nerve.”

“Well?”

“Well what? What do you want? A new car? How about a BMW? I'll pay for it from my private account and your father will be no wiser.”

“Nah, I love my Mustang.”

“What, then? A trip? You can go anywhere. You can take your girlfriend to Europe for a month and spend as much as you want.”

“I don't like French food.”

“Well, what, then? I don't understand. Do you want more freedom? No more chores? No curfew? It's done. I'll work it out with your father somehow.”

“You're getting colder, Mom.”

“Then what, Peter? Would you please tell me what the hell you want?”

I smiled at her and nodded at the screen, where she, kneeling, was tugging down the man's pants and starting a blowjob. Unfortunately, he had his back to the camera and I couldn't quite see his dick in her mouth.

“Peter, please turn that off.”

“No, Mom, you don't understand. That's what I want.”

“What?”

“That.” On the TV, Mom's eyes were closed as she bobbed on her partner's knob. The microphone picked up faint smacking sounds.

“You want…from me? Are you crazy?”

“That, for starters.”

“Oh, my god, you want to have sex with me?” her tone approached hysteria.

“Yep.”

“Peter, honey, be reasonable. Think about what you’re suggesting.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot. Hell, I’ve been thinking about it for years,” I said, ogling her huge bust line.

Her eyes followed mine down into her cleavage. “Oh, god, I knew this beautiful body would get me into serious trouble one day, but I never dreamed of anything this insane. Well, it doesn’t matter because it’s not going to happen. Sorry, Peter, but I’m not going to sleep with my own son. When you come to your senses you’ll thank me for it.”

“Mom, you’re forgetting something. The tape.”

On the screen, Mom and the guy were naked and on the bed. She was still blowing him, only now the camera was seeing everything. She slowly drew her sensual lips up and down his pole as he moaned and grasped the bedspread.

“Oh, my god, Peter, please turn that off. Even seeing me like that will damage you. It’s just not natural.”

“Looks like you give great head,” I said, ignoring her pleas.

“Peter, for Christ’s sake,” she intoned, standing up and facing me, blocking my view of the television and planting her hands on her hips. I had no intention of relinquishing the remote control to her and there was no power switch on the console.

“I’m offering you a real bargain, Mom. Most kids would want tons of money. You’re getting off Scot free, basically. In a few hours, the tape will be yours. And believe me, you’ll enjoy earning it.”

“You’re absolutely out of your mind.”

“If you think that guy is well-hung, wait until you see my big boy.”

She ignored that. “Listen, honey, just because you’ve caught me with someone else doesn’t mean I’m some horny slut who will do anything.”

“Oooh, yeah, that it’s, Greg,” came her voice from the TV speaker. “Suck my big tits while you fuck me.” Mom winced and flushed.

I guffawed. “You were saying?”

“Peter, please don’t destroy our relationship. We’ve already had so much trouble.”

“Enough talk,” I announced, getting up and facing her. “Unless you want me to mail that tape to Dad at his office tomorrow, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go upstairs to my room, take off our clothes, then I’m going to slide my big cock into your pussy and fuck your brains—”

I saw the flash of her palm, then felt the neck-twisting whop of her hand against my face. She had struck me as hard as she could. Frowning in pain, I saw the desperate rage in her beautiful brown eyes. Mom was a bitch, but she had never struck me.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” I said. “Either you show up in my room later this evening wearing that red bikini, or Dad gets the tape. And by the way, I’ve already made a copy of it. The choice is yours. Do the right thing.”

“Peter, please, let’s talk this over.”

I was out of the room and headed down the hall.

“Go screw yourself, Peter,” Mom called after me. I looked back and saw her leaning sexily against the doorframe. “You’re right, honey, I do have a fantastic body. My legs are long, my ass is shapely, my waist is tiny and my tits, well, look at them,” she said, cupping her hands around her awesome rack and squeezing, making her cleavage swell and strain against her blouse buttons. Fuck. “Huge, round, firm, perfect. All of my lovers have said they’re the best, and that I’m the best. Greg couldn’t get enough of me. But you, young man, will never, ever know me that way. Give it up.”

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll pack up a copy of the tape for Dad.”

III

I had no idea what she'd do. Mom was a conniving gold digger, but she wasn't crazy. Having sex with your own son—now that was crazy. I had probably presented Mom with the most agonizing dilemma of her life.

With a little luck, she'd face it as a true pragmatist. After just a couple of hours of unthinkable sex, she'd get away with having an affair and go right on with her life. She should even consider herself lucky, I mused. Dad was a good man but a very jealous one, and if he had caught her in bed with that guy, he'd have given each of them a bullet between the eyes. Viewed that way, my snooping had perhaps forestalled a double homicide. Darkly, I imagined the scene: Dad bursting into the motel room, his snub-nosed .357 revolver in one hand. A gasp and a shriek from the bed, where Greg had just started pumping Mom's pussy doggy-style, her big tits swinging and her face screwed up in pleasure. Dad would shoot Greg first, the bullet hitting him just above the left eye and slamming him back against the headboard, dead. Then Mom would rise up into a kneeling position, petrified, not even bothering to cover her huge breasts with her hands. As she blurted out an apology, Dad would take one last, lustful look at her fantastic body and then blow her head off.

See? I had circumvented all that carnage, and all I wanted in return was a little pussy.

Of course, she didn't see it that way. She only saw it as a choice between moral turpitude and financial ruin. If Dad saw the tape, she'd be out of the house within hours and divorced within days. My father was a very powerful man and could easily make it happen that fast.

Would I do it? Would I really send him the tape? I asked myself that question more often as the evening wore on and Mom didn't show up at my door. She wasn't going to do it, I realized. She'd do anything to keep her privileged life, but she wouldn't resort to incest. She was probably pondering various counter-offers to talk me out of my twisted quest.

She had come up with a pretty good one, it turned out. Around nine, I heard her slippered feet pad toward my room.

“Peter?” she said softly, standing the doorway, afraid to enter. She was wearing her powder blue bathrobe, which vaulted forward over her huge chest, and her hair was wet.

“Yeah, I’m in here,” I said.

“I have an idea. Do you remember Cindy, my friend from the tennis club? She’s really gorgeous and is built like me,” she said, bringing her hands up to her chest. “If that’s what you like, then I’ll arrange for you and her to, you know…”

“Well, if Cindy wants to join us for a threesome, that would be hot. I think I could satisfy both of you at once. Otherwise, it’ll just be you and me.”

Mom, who had taken a hopeful step into the room, leaned back against the wall by the light switch and let out a long, defeated sigh. Her big tits shimmied under her robe. Then she smiled wryly and shook her head in disbelief. “And you haven’t come to your senses about that shiny new BMW?”

“Nope.”

A long pause, maybe ten seconds.

“Okay, then let’s get this over with.” She untied the bathrobe, pulled it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind her.

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byG. H. Lawrence© 44 comments/ 1236287 views/ 202 favorites

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