Corrupting the Bradley's - Anja

"Trust me, huh, I know," she added assiduously of her little sister's oral prowess.

Emma's unfocused green eyes caught our son's jaw clench with his effort as he methodically fucked her missionary style, melting into the skewering with dwindling remorse as her immense tits sloped engagingly to the sides of her reclining chest, her thick rose nipples turned to hard knots, and her hands gripped Kellen's muscular buttocks firmly.

For whatever moral misgivings remained about submitting to regular incestuous sex with Kerri and Kellen, once she was in the throes it was clear from her body's response Emma thoroughly enjoyed how well our son fucked her greedy cunt, or our hard-bodied coed capably ate her pussy, invariably including the phenomenal orgasms they induced.

"Was she, uh, submissive again? Did she like it, ahh, dirty?" she asked as Kellen drove especially deep, picking up the pace just a hint as his sexual temperature rose.

"It was kind of funny, ugh, because, Mrs. Bradley tried to take charge, but it didn't last. In the end, unnh, I did what I wanted, and she loved it," our persevering young athlete answered between breathless grunts powering his tireless cock stridently into his mother's steamy hole.

"Good. It's her, oh god, nature, son. Huh, just keep it up, uh, and she'll do whatever you say. I'm, uh, sure of it," his cresting mother advised, losing herself to the glorious sensations building within her pussy as Kellen steadily ramped up his energetic strokes.

"Oh, take your mother, Kel," Emma called, the sound ringing in my ears as I worked furiously on my bloated prick before the conversation went silent.

All I heard after that was more creaking of the bed, pared with deep panting and rhapsodic groans until Kellen grunted harshly. I knew then he was flooding my wife's welcoming snatch with potent cum, sending Emma into her own low-key but trembling climax beneath him.

"Awwwhhhhhhh, yesss," her shuddering moan resonated throughout the hallway.

I winced, alone in my study dribbling pent-up precum onto my lap, suffering another failed attempt at achieving my own orgasm listening to the intoxicating sound of Emma and Kellen's sublime rapture.

*****************

Tuesday came and once again Anja timidly answered the door in only a skimpy outfit, allowing Kellen in before revealing the day's ensemble.

It wasn't much, and was also a little weird, because it reminded him of the garb his mother now frequently wore, at least since our aberrant lifestyle was disclosed to him, and was highly contrary to the modest clothing as Mrs. Bradley's previously preferred attire.

Pretty, restrained, and slightly embarrassed despite their burgeoning sexual relationship, obviously still adjusting to the change, the self-conscious matron was most definitely dressed down this afternoon.

Set high and upright with a natural buoyancy all their own, Anja's impressive breasts were unencumbered by a bra under a severely cut-off white cotton t-shirt from a rock concert she'd attended years ago. Reaching only past the tips of her pointed nipples, the scanty cut left a generous amount of pale under-boob agreeably available to the eye.

Below, and seemingly painted on, was a high-waisted French-cut fire engine red bikini panty drawn into an extreme vee both front and back resting on her slender hips and dipping perilously low to the top of her rounded, furry mound.

Without shoes and only light make-up, Anja's only accessory was a cute red ribbon forcing her short straight black hair into a lilting knot at the very top of her head, giving her the strange appeal of a carnival kewpie doll.

That's not to say she didn't look sexy as hell, as our pleased son admired her fleshy curves and barely covered body with a hunger she certainly intended and happily received.

"Oh man, Mrs. Bradley, you're way fucking hot," Kellen extolled, reveling in her naughty beauty with a juvenile zeal that was music to her gratified ears.

Interestingly, he continued to purposefully use the formality of her surname despite fucking her hard more than a few times now, and even after enjoying the intimacy of a generous helping of her freely flowing pussy juices just yesterday.

Anja didn't mind, as somehow, the moniker gave their illicit rendezvous a forbidden quality stirring her to greater heights of lechery and sexual pleasure.

"I'm not your mother, young man, but watch your language," she admonished playfully, tossing a finger wag in a disconnected version of Tim's mother wrapped in the guise of a steamy sex doll.

"Sorry, ma'am," he offered sheepishly, as if during any previous, more innocent visit to their house.

"So, what's the new rule, Kellen?" Anja chided with a directed gander at his attire and a simple nod.

"Oh, yes, naked," our son replied. "I'll need to remember that, but it might take a few times."

"Don't worry, I'll remind you, but don't accidentally do it when Tim's here," she countered gamely, vigilantly watching his every move stripping off his school clothes in the foyer.

"Um, I'm pretty sure that won't happen," Kellen retorted, getting her joke, and playing along enthusiastically.

As he had the day before, our son stood impressively naked, towering above Anja in the entryway eyeing her delicate form earnestly while admiring the size and shape of her splendid tits bulging from beneath the few remains of the t-shirt.

"Who are 'The Jolly Jesters?'" he questioned ignorantly about the band logo emblazoned across her prominent chest.

"Goodness, is that all you're interested in? Checking out my shirt?" Anja mocked saucily about the defunct band with the silly name. "They were quite big in my day, and that's all you need to know about that, but aren't you more interested in what's underneath?"

Kellen bashfully conceded her point with a smirk, perusing her shapely body and lovely face before pausing at the top-knot ponytail on her head.

"That's an interesting hairstyle, Anja," he commented curiously, uncertain what to make of the unusual 'doo.'

"Cutesy, huh, but it has it's purposes," she giggled with a flirtatious flip of her head at the puzzling addition.

Still learning to understand women, Kellen shrugged with acceptance and left the comment alone.

"Is there anything I can do for you? I believe it's my turn for a treat," the married mother suggested politely, her bright blue eyes shifting from his flaccid cock upward to the firm stretch of his muscled abdomen until landing on his expressive green eyes.

The leading question triggered a multitude of lurid thoughts in Kellen's prurient mind, but it quickly became clear his provocative paramour already had something in mind, with Anja dismissing her own inquiry without heed of his answer.

"Come with me, sweetie," she graciously took his hand, leading him down the hallway of the two-story home.

Now, Kellen spied the back of Anja's barely-there panties, padding barefoot along the hardwood flooring towards the back of the house. Her fleshy rump rolled exotically with each gentle step, creating a mesmerizing vision he only broke away from upon arriving at a closed and surprisingly locked door.

"This is Frank's study. His private inner sanctum," Anja informed, producing a key. "I'm sure you've never seen it. In fact, I'm rarely allowed in here."

Unlocking the door, she swung it open revealing a large stately room with bookshelves and wood panels, plush carpeted flooring under leather bound chairs and a sofa. Finally at the center of the grand home office was a large walnut desk with only a solitary laptop and monitor topping its finely polished surface.

"Honestly, I don't know what he does in here and I never ask," she revealed with a hint of suspicion. "I suppose he conducts business, but who really knows?"

Kellen surveyed the room enviously, imagining himself with such a space someday in his own successful future.

"Anyway, its sacrosanct to Frank, so I think it's a good place for his wife to suck your cock, don't you agree?" Anja stated with unvarnished antagonism.

Our startled son looked at her in confusion, not expecting the proper woman to violate her husband's special sanctuary so easily, but smartly recognized the vitriol and anger accompanying her unusual offer, thinking it potentially beneficial.

"Frank values it as his secret hideout, so I thought I'd give his son's hunky friend a long, slow, luxurious blowjob right there where he sits," she sneered happily, pointing to the big leather executive chair behind the massive desk.

"Ummm, okay, I can't argue with that, but won't he find out?" Kellen stammered, reverting momentarily to his well-taught respect for authority and a small element of fear of Frank Bradley.

"He might, but not unless I tell him, which I'd love to do, I should say," the vindictive wife mused whimsically.

Kellen squirmed nervously with the words, casting his eyes about with concern she just might do that.

"It would be fun, but don't worry, Kellen, he'll never know I sucked you off in his chair," she added reassuringly. "I will though, and that's good enough for me."

Anja directed Kellen to the grandiose desk with a renewed playfulness, thinking aloud her own fantasy.

"My only regret is that the sonofabitch isn't here to see his neglected wife take Kellen Tyler's delicious cock into her mouth and swallow him whole," Anja intoned with out-of-character spite.

Kellen gulped at the extent of Mrs. Bradley's rage and pain towards her cheating husband coming to the surface, but she quickly pushed it aside in favor of the girlish persona of an accommodating sex doll ready to service her handsome buck in any manner he pleased.

Almost instantly, Kellen noted the parent within her trying to assume command and he didn't want that. He'd identified how easily Anja reverted to a submissive posture under the slightest pressure during their first few sexual encounters and that's how he wanted her now, and always.

Our wily son suspected that deep in her subconscious that's what she wanted too, and his keenly developing instincts for deviancy told him to feed that desire, assuming such a useful demeanor fit Hank's purposes for the future degradation of the uninitiated wife and mother.

"Wait a minute, slut. My little cocksucker needs to be properly outfitted for the job," he submitted, strongly exerting his dominion with the derogatory name in her own house and in a manner she craved, holding up his hand as a stop sign.

"Ohhh, my goodness, so commanding. I thought this might be enough," Anja gasped in surprise, not understanding but excited at her insistent young lover's assertion of power and strangely aroused by his crude reference to her as his 'slut' and 'cocksucker.'

Assuming an authority he didn't entirely feel but that my boss insisted he develop, Kellen pretentiously strode to the nearby drapes, removing the royal blue silk tiebacks on each side and returning to where his mature fuck doll stood watching curiously, still uncertain of his intent but getting a sense of it.

"Turn around, Mrs. Bradley, and put your hands together behind your back," he ordered firmly but in the respectfully pleasant tone she was accustomed to hearing from him in her presence.

"Oooh, kinky," she peeped agreeably to the unexpected directive, clasping her hands behind her bottom immediately with a rush of electricity fueled by our virile son's forceful composure causing butterflies in her stomach.

Ever the good scout, Kellen ably tied an effective knot holding her wrists together, but not one so uncomfortably tight it cut off the circulation.

"More?" Anja asked, surprised when he didn't stop there.

"I saw this online. It looked like fun, especially on a woman with such great tits," he advised with intended praise, looping the second rope around her elbows, and slowly pulling them together with care for her well-being.

"Oh my, I'm in quite a bind, but you do say the nicest things, Kellen. Your mother sure taught you how to treat a lady," Anja jested, once again not understanding the truth of her statement, while adjusting her shoulders and stretching her bound limbs as best she could under the unaccustomed constrictions.

Satisfied his prize was sufficiently trussed, Kellen stepped back admiring his handiwork and the vulnerable position of his petite but large breasted Finnish beauty, creating an erotic vision just as he'd imagined.

"Well, this is quite lewd," Anja quipped, noting the way her pointed breasts projected prominently on her chest looking sexy as hell.

Hands joined at the wrists up to the elbows pulling her narrow shoulders acutely backward, the bound mother's ripe C-cup tits jut nearly free of the short, cut-off t-shirt. Only the hardened points of her tight nipples clinging to the cotton prevented the dense globes from escaping entirely.

"Almost perfect," our earnest son commented, eyeing her curves keenly.

"Only almost?" she pouted, her ego perceptibly bruised, with a questioning look overcoming her thoughtful face.

"I'm just not done yet, Mrs. Bradley," he replied with a reassuring smile.

Stepping towards Tim's captive mother, Kellen easily lifted the hem of the t-shirt, drawing the front over her head resting the garment behind her neck, setting the splendid lily-white globes free and on open display.

"Now, it's perfect," he pronounced with a wink and a smile.

"Smartass," Anja snickered with her own broad grin, pleased her young stud found her mature body so appealing.

'Smack,' Kellen responded with three-fingered slap to the perfect skin of her left cheek.

"Ahhh," she squeaked from surprise at the sudden strike to the face, which wasn't especially hard, nor intended to be.

"Fuck toys don't backtalk," he warned with a smile conveying his seriousness but without menace.

"Y-yes, sir," the startled damsel stuttered, her look of docility mixed with the pure lust in her sparkling blue eyes saying everything he needed to know about her approval of the chastisement.

Tracing his inquisitive fingers hungrily over the tops of her newly exposed breasts, he squeezed the luscious pair with impunity before balancing them in his warm palms in admiration for her impeccable tits.

Amazed and aroused by his temerity and style, Anja thrilled inside when Kellen dipped low, kissing her left nipple with the sincerest embrace of his lips, then slipping his moist tongue across the crinkled flesh of her taut areola before assertively grasping the rigid nub at its center between his teeth and extending it a full inch from the ivory mound.

"Ohhh, you're a lady killer," she swooned bashfully with the glorious sensation as he repeated the feat with her tender right nipple.

Kellen backed off with the comment, gazing through intense eyes at his restrained quarry, smiling the same sweet smile he'd always given Mrs. Bradley.

A rush of deviancy flushed the delighted matron's quivering body, with anticipation building within Anja at the profane deeds she wanted to perform on her 18-year-old stud.

"You look spectacular, my married fuck slut. I just gotta get some pictures," he declared, forcing a startled chill through her immobilized body as he reached for his ever-ready phone camera.

"What? Oh no, that's not a good idea, Kellen. You can't take pictures of me this way," the stunned mother gasped, her face alive with concern.

"C'mon, just a few. Just for me. I won't show them to anyone, I promise," our son countered facetiously, pointing the lens in her direction, and adjusting the frame.

"No, no, Kellen, seriously, you can't!" Anja panicked, her sense of anonymity vanishing in an instant at the prospect of someone, anyone, and worst of all, Tim or her husband seeing her bound in such a shameful depiction.

'Click, click, click,' a series of pictures from a variety of angles snapped off as Kellen circled the secured mother, catching her front, back, and from the side, ensuring her bare breasts and tied arms were clearly in the shots.

"Too late, but don't worry, your blue eyes look beautiful," he said, admiring the shots in his photo gallery and slyly informing his mortified subject that the pictures undoubtedly included her face.

"No, Kellen, please delete them. I mean it. No one can see me tied-up with my breasts exposed. I'll be scandalized!" she protested gravely, sincerely afraid and understanding she was recognizable by his comment.

Only Kellen knew his true intentions, but I learned later his mother didn't put him up to taking the pictures. Sadly, I suspect he was inspired by the devious influence of my ruthless boss, understanding compromising photos of the proper, respectable Mrs. Bradley half-naked and tied-up might prove useful at some future time.

"I said don't worry about it. No one will see them but me," Kellen rebuked unsympathetically, his attitude the product of a generation of youth accustomed to the relaxed boundaries of privacy resulting from excessive social media exposure and ever-present cameras.

"Please?" Anja begged with a desperation that was all too genuine.

'Smack'

Out of nowhere the flat of Kellen's palm struck soundly against the side of Mrs. Bradley's defenseless left tit, sending the fleshy globe careening into the jello-y right breast and an exquisite sting rocketing through her torso.

"Ahhhhh!" Anja yipped at the suddenness of the assault as much as the biting sensation in her punished tit.

As with the slap to her face, the strength of the blow wasn't severe - mild really and designed more to shock than cause pain, magnifying the effect on the astounded woman's dazed mind.

'Smack'

The back of Kellen's hand slapped her tender right tit on the return trip, forcing another squeal of surprise from the captive matron and an instinctive shift of her body. Then, he commandingly grabbed Anja's top-knot ponytail, holding her securely and directing her face to his own.

"Hey, you're right, it does have a purpose," he taunted good-naturedly, sensing he'd established his control.

Anja stared at him respectfully, subconsciously assuming an inferior posture to his natural authority, as Kellen explained his reason for the discipline and the nature of her error.

"Pleasure and pain are the opposite sides of the same coin, fuck slut. I read that somewhere," our fast-learning son explained in his usual caring voice, despite the harsh name calling. "You didn't trust me to keep them to myself. Don't ever doubt me again."

Breathless and shaken by the light rebuke applied to her sensitive breasts, Anja tenuously agreed, not even recognizing her growing dependence on their captivating sexual dynamic.

"O-okay, you c-can keep them," Anja whimpered submissively, wetness glazing her penitent blue eyes, but also an undeniable moisture forming in the crotch of her red bikini panties.

"I-I promise, Kellen, I won't question you again," she murmured, head looking upward held by his hand by her top-knot. "I just, well, wasn't expecting that. You're, um, a constant surprise. I'll do, uh, whatever you say."

It was a stark concession for the proud but emotionally vulnerable wife and mother, relieved learning she hadn't permanently incurred Kellen's disfavor, and thereby losing this unprecedented escape into carnality and sexual excess.

"That's right, slut, I'm keeping the pictures. Just be a good girl, and no one will see them," Kellen reiterated, his tone uplifting, but an implied threat submerged just below the surface.

Anja nodded acquiescently.

Irresistibly, a chill at the implications of any betrayal of his dictate merged with her rising arousal as the cowed matron surrendered to her powerful young lover's emerging authority, her lust growing in line with her servility and the intoxicating aura of his dominant presence.

"Very good. Now, you said something about needing a treat," he remarked invitingly, turning his attention to the promised blowjob, and presumptuously drawing Frank's favorite chair away from the desk.