Charlie Comes Home Pt. 03

This is a work of fiction. I do my own editing so any grammatical errors are down to me. Please check the tags.

It had been a busy morning for Claire and even though she'd barely had more than a few hours sleep, she had diligently maintained her routine for Charlie.

Routines are important. She'd been taught that throughout her musical career. Routines, practice, repetition and dedication. It had been drummed into her, over and over until she knew nothing else. Her tutor had been tough. He'd been demanding. When she'd failed he was brutal, bringing her to tears, but when she'd achieved his praise filled her soul. A simple "well done, Claire," or a "good girl" from his smiling face made her feel like she'd had wings. It was no surprise that she'd worked ever harder purely to see that look in his eyes. To receive his praise. She'd even developed a crush for Mr Gibson, to the point she'd thought she was in love.

Charlie needed routines too. His psychiatrist had been quite clear about that, stressing the importance of balanced emotions and routines to maintain his equilibrium. So Claire, her vagina still swollen and wet, had begun her morning with her newest routine.

She was certain Charlie couldn't help hitting her body when he urinated. The shower cubicle, while quite large, didn't afford enough room for her to avoid it. Some had splashed her labia and the hot liquid had had a stinging effect. Most likely because she was so sensitive. Bizarrely, it had excited her, but she put that down to her need for relief, which was pretty much constant. Still, something played on her mind. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that somehow, Charlie managed to direct the stream at her on purpose.

He'd insisted she suck him whilst "finger cleaning" his anus rather than just masturbating him too. The remnants of his urine were pretty sour and made her cough initially, but the taste was soon replaced by precum and the resulting ejaculation had been quite prolific. She'd managed to swallow more than half. If she continued in the same way and learned to time her breathing, she felt sure she'd soon be able to take it all. An achievement that even Joshua hadn't been able to accomplish according to Charlie and Claire couldn't help feeling quite proud of herself. She was winning that battle too and soon Joshua's name would be nothing but a faded memory. The guilt of feeling it was wrong was diminishing so quickly. The only guilt that remained as strong as ever, was that which had driven Claire to this point. Survivors guilt.

Most importantly, it kept Charlie happy. That was the whole reason behind bringing him home wasn't it? To make him happy and if last night was anything to go by, she was succeeding. Charlie was happy, so why shouldn't she feel happy too? Why should she feel guilty? The taste of his semen was.......well.........it was just so good. It was a blessing really, because Charlie clearly had no intention of stopping, so why deny herself pleasure too? Why deny herself the pleasure of drinking his semen? Or the unusual, but intensely erotic sensation of his sperm on her face and body for that matter.

My God, he really did have a beautiful penis. She'd been thinking about it a lot. Maybe too much. About more too. More than just masturbating or sucking him. Again, she put that down to her constant state of arousal, but she knew the truth. The real truth that is. The truth she was trying to deny.

Charlie was reason she was so aroused. Charlie the man, not Charlie the son. She'd felt it at dinner the previous evening, perhaps before then even, but mostly at dinner. Maybe it had been building up. She couldn't be certain when it started, but then she wasn't certain about anything anymore. Mother and son boundaries had been shattered and lines had become blurred. Only a few days ago she would have been certain that any form of sexual contact with her son would have been abhorrent to her. But now? The mere prospect of "making him happy" aroused her.

He was so demanding, so strong willed and controlling and it made her weak at the knees. He only had to look at her the right way or say the right words and her stomach did somersaults and her vagina weeped. He was the polar of his father and unlike him, Charlie needed relief often. Very often. It was actually mind boggling how often. In just a couple of days she'd had to relieve her son more times than his father would have needed in over a month! And when he was in need, he came to her. He chose her. Claire Simpson had never felt so wanted, so needed by anyone and it sparked something in her. Something basic. Something primal.

Only briefly did Claire consider that Charlie was in many ways, very similar to Mr Gibson.

After their shower, she'd made him breakfast and Charlie had insisted she stay naked. "You dress when I tell you to dress from now on, mother," he'd told her. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her naked, but nevertheless, it had felt erotically uncomfortable. She'd felt like a mannequin in a shop window. On display. There to be observed, critiqued, admired or maybe even desired. Not unlike performing on stage in many respects, yet completely different. Charlie's eyes had never left her, making her feel embarrassed, humiliated, yet overwhelming excited that her arousal was so abundantly clear. That he was the source of her arousal. The feeling was transformative. Like a dream or an "out of body" experience, but oh so........real. Every fibre of her body had felt alive.

In an almost trancelike state, Claire had followed him upstairs to her walk-in wardrobe. Charlie, phone in hand, had sat on her bed directing which items of clothing were suitable and which should be consigned to the bin bags. Suffice to say, all of her old panties went first, followed by her leggings, T-shirts and bras. When she'd explained she wore them when she exercised, he'd told her she could purchase new gym gear when she went shopping "You're not keeping any of that fucking shit you dumb bitch," he'd told her. "I'll send you some photos of what I want you to wear in the gym."

What HE wanted her to wear. In a strange way, she'd felt comforted. Even more wanted. That he was doing it for her own good. It was flattering that he cared so much and he'd been right about everything else so far. She'd felt so good yesterday. She'd felt special. Like a new woman. Even Tom, the butcher had noticed. Claire had flushed at the thought. Charlie's change of character had lasted too. Yes, the insulting names remained, he couldn't help it, that was just what he did, but his temperament remained calm and that was what mattered.

By the time she'd finished, her wardrobe had been segregated. On one side, only her knee length dresses and lower heels. Charlie called these her "day outfits." On the opposite side hung one solitary dress and one pair of heels. The much shorter yellow dress and higher heels she'd worn the previous evening. The outfit her late husband loved so much. The outfit that had sparked the dramatic change in Charlie's temperament. Along with that, was a drawer for her new panties. Charlie called these her "evening outfits," to be worn from 5pm every day. Another routine for her remember. Claire had chosen not to challenge him when she noted that her underwear was limited to the "evening outfit" side of her wardrobe. It was what HE wanted and most surprisingly, she was happy to do it.

And now, Claire was in town wearing the red dress and red heels her son had specifically picked out for her. The outfit HE had chosen. Her makeup was perfect too. Charlie had told her as much when she'd knelt on the kitchen floor to suck his penis just before leaving. He'd been thoughtful and not ejaculated saying it would ruin her makeup, even though she'd hoped he would. "It's just a quick 'goodbye' suck you dirty cunt," he'd explained. "You'll get a throat full later if you're a good girl." It didn't occur to her until after setting off that her vagina was tingling at the prospect of being a "good girl" for her son. But it didn't surprise her either.

That was the moment, the point at which everything changed. As if she'd been standing in the shadows and was walking out into the light. Charlie, with that seemingly innocent little phrase, had inadvertently hit on the thing that made Claire tick. That years of relentless training had driven into her. Praise. Praise and reward. It was as if a switch had been flicked.

Thankfully it was a warm day because not only was the dress quite flimsy, but she was completely naked underneath. Her permanently erect nipples seemed to be attracting glances and her vagina wouldn't stop leaking. She could feel the warm air washing over her bald mons and wet thighs. It was delightful. Goodness knows what people would think of her if they knew. Quite a few men smiled and said "hello" as she made her way through the streets. Wow, that hadn't happened in, well, forever and the attention made Claire feel good. Really damned good. Like she had yesterday. It would never have happened without Charlie. She really should be more thankful. A "good girl" would be thankful.

Day 4 and his stupid mother had just stood there and let him piss right over her twat. It was even better when she had her finger in his arse and his cock in her mouth, coughing on the little bit of piss he'd held back. How fucking stupid could she actually be? Give the dumb bitch her due though, it didn't stop her. Fuck no. She really went at it and he could see the look of concentration on her face as she tried to swallow his spunk. It was admirable really. Charlie had counted and the bitch gulped down 9 squirts before it started dribbling from her nose. Far better than Joshua ever did. It seemed only fair to give her a compliment and just as his research suggested, she'd responded positively. Licking and slurping on his cock like a spunk obsessed whore until every last drop of cum was gone. Charlie thought he'd seen pride in her eyes when she'd finished. He'd certainly seen pleasure. His mother LOVED the taste of spunk.

It was easy after that. Like she was drunk. Drunk on spunk. The phrase had made him smile. They had breakfast and Charlie kept the dumb bitch naked. She had to learn it would be her default state. That clothing was no longer her choice. After that he took her up to her wardrobe. She didn't even try to argue, clearing out everything other than what he wanted her to wear. Not only that. The dirty whore had been sopping wet the whole time. The bedroom reeked of her cunt. Watching her organise her wardrobe into "day outfits" and "evening outfits" was like watching dream turn real.

He could have chosen any of the "day outfit" dresses. They were all pretty much the same style, perfectly "normal" yet suitably sexy at the same time. Tight around the body to show of her huge fucking nipples and flared knee length skirts, to give him easy access to her cunt and arse. Charlie chose the red one. It was pretty thin and with her shopping trip planned, he wanted the dumb bitch to feel as exposed as possible. Most importantly, he wanted her to know she was wearing it because HE chose it.

Fuck. She looked smoking hot before she left. Better than any of the models on the internet. Better because she was real. Better because Charlie's long held fantasies of his mother were coming to life, right in front of his eyes. The red dress was a good choice. Her elongated nipples were sticking out like fucking beacons and Charlie couldn't help putting her on her knees and shoving his prick in her "too small" mouth. He couldn't believe how easy it had been looking down at her. Fuck. It took a gargantuan effort to stick to his plan. The dumb bitch actually looked disappointed when he didn't spray her throat, but the promise he would later seemed to cheer her up. He thought the "good girl" line was nice touch too.

Thank fuck for the internet! He'd never been so focused on anything in his entire life and it was intense. One unexpected side effect of his meticulous research was the ability to temper his outbursts. To channel all of the pent up thoughts and feelings he was having coherently, and it was clearly working. His brain felt, well, organised. Charlie was learning quickly.

Claire made a beeline for the same boutique where she'd purchased the yellow dress and heels. It was as good a place to start as any. "Nothing below mid thigh, mother. And tight too." Charlie's words were at the forefront of her mind as she entered the shop. Amy, the owner was pleased to see her. Claire had been a regular customer for years. It wasn't long before they fell into a familiar routine and she was, as always, very helpful. An hour later and with an armful of dresses, Amy showed her to the dressing room and it was then that Claire began to feel nervous. It wasn't unusual for Amy to assist her dressing and wouldn't have been an issue if she'd been wearing a bra and panties.

When Rose arrived she was thankful to hear that her sister-in-law was out shopping. She wasn't sorry for what she'd done, Claire had deserved it, but a few more days of not having to face one another wouldn't be a bad thing. Rose guessed it would be more difficult for Claire to deal with than her anyway. She hadn't forgotten her sister-in-law's shaved cunt or the wetness on her hand. She hadn't forgotten the pleasure she'd felt spanking her either and she'd do it again if the stuck up bitch stepped out of line. Fuck her and fuck the job too if it ever came to that.

"There's a few bin bags of old clothes and stuff in my mum's bedroom," Charlie explained with a smirk. "Would you do me a favour and get rid of them, Rose?"

Fucking hell, Charlie was like a different lad compared to yesterday. It didn't stop him ogling her chest though, just like every other bloke did. It was kind of flattering given his age. "No problem, Charlie. Charity or......?"

"I dunno," he said with a disinterested shrug. "Do whatever you want with them. I don't give a fuck."

Jesus. Her tits were fucking gigantic. That top looked tighter and lower than the one she'd worn yesterday. The white leggings showed off her camel toe too. If he squinted, Charlie could see the faintest hint of Rose's pubic hair. No fucking knickers again. His cock swelled.

"Listen," he began hesitantly. "When you come to clean my room, maybe.........we could talk about Billy?"

Reaching forward to stroke his hair, Rose smiled. He looked so much like her late brother. "Of course we can, sweetheart. I told you yesterday, he'll be more than happy to help you out. I'll start in Claire's room and give you a knock later."

Bloody hell! That "thing" in his shorts was bloody huge. Poor fucker. Charlie probably had no idea how gifted he was. Such a fucking waste. With a slight shake of her head, she left him to his own devices and made her way upstairs.

Finding it hard to concentrate on the website software, Charlie decided to search for gym outfits. It didn't take too long. He'd send the dumb bitch a message later, but for now he went on to continue his research. He loved the internet. So much information. So many ideas. Just as he got into one subject, something else would tweak his interest and he'd be drawn off on a tangent. Staying on track was the key to success and everything he'd tried so far had worked. In fact, the dumb bitch was progressing faster than he'd expected. His cock thickened at the prospect of losing his virginity to his mother, but if he pushed too soon, all his hard work might come to nothing.

After the ritual soiling of Claire's toothbrush, Rose opened the bedroom windows. There was another nasty scent today, but it wasn't dried spunk. It smelled like sex. For fucks sake. She wondered how poor Charlie coped knowing his mother was up there getting fucked. Her attention soon turned to the 4 large sacks on the bed though. It looked like Claire had had a major clearout and there was no way Rose was sending any of it to charity. Fucking hell! They were full of designer dresses, trainers, jeans, tops and blouses, some of which looked they'd never been worn. She could make a killing selling this stuff. Yuk! Not her fucking knickers though. Nor the bras.....if that's what you could call them. Rose laughed out loud. They were more like fucking trainer bras. After lugging the sacks downstairs and into her car, she returned to cleaning.

Claire stared blankly at Amy for a few seconds.

"Is everything ok, Mrs Simpson?" Amy asked, noticing Claire's hesitation.

"Um....y...yes.......I'm ok." She could feel the burning in her cheeks.

"Slip your dress off then. You should try this one on first," she suggested, holding out a strapless emerald green minidress. "I think the colour will look perfect on you."

It was quite possibly the worst hour of her life. Why didn't she just ask for privacy? She could have easily done so, but for reasons lost on her, Claire didn't. Despite Amy telling her "not to worry" and "you'd be surprised how many naked ladies I've had in my fitting room," Claire felt beyond ashamed and the feeling didn't dwindle, no matter how many times she dressed then undressed. Just as she had earlier in front of Charlie, Claire felt completely and utterly exposed. Only this time it was in front of a virtual stranger. It didn't help when she glanced at Amy and caught her furtively looking down at her obviously moist, bald vagina. Oh my God! She even handed Claire tissues so she didn't "spoil the dresses." It was nothing short of humiliating and she couldn't get out of there soon enough after paying. The image of Amy's smiling face as she wished her a good day, would be forever burned in her memory. Flushed and hot, she made her way towards her favourite shoe retailer.

Instead of getting straight down to cleaning his room, Rose sat on the edge of Charlie's bed and they talked. It was a chance to get to know her nephew better. After agreeing she would bring Billy along on her next visit, she thought he looked nervous.

"Honestly, sweetheart," she said, trying to allay his concerns. She really tried not to look at his groin. "Billy's a good lad. He's only a couple of years older than you. I think you'll really get on with him." She glanced again, looked back up and blushed when he smiled. "I.....I mean," she stuttered. Good God in heaven. She could see the tip poking out from the hem of his shorts. "Just.....ahem," she started and cleared her throat, trying to blank out the image. "Just treat him like he's family." That wasn't a lie.

Look at her fucking well blushing. Charlie liked Rose. He liked her strong personality. He liked that she wasn't afraid of him and he liked that she talked to him like he wasn't damaged. He loved knowing she never seemed to wear knickers and he definitely liked that pudgy camel toe. Most of all, he liked her massive fucking tits and her huge arse. But she was just like everyone else. Once they noticed his cock, they couldn't stop fucking looking. He still wasn't sure if it was just curiosity or something more though.

"Yeah, I believe you Rose," he said, playing another role he'd perfected over his years in care. "It's just, well.....I get kinda nervous around strangers. It puts me on edge, you know?" She was still looking. "My psychiatrist told me that's why I, well, get.......the way I get," he continued, pouting his lips for effect.

It worked. He could see the sympathy in her eyes - when she managed to drag them away from his cock that is. "I really have to try, you know? To control it? But sometimes I just can't." That was it. He saw the moment it happened in her eyes. Charlie had her.

Poor Charlie. Rose was heart-stricken. "I know. I know you have to try. It's ok, Charlie." Her maternal instincts kicked in and before she knew it, she was standing in front of him, hugging his head to her chest. "It must be hard for you, sweetheart"