I'm Home 0.0

He jerked slightly when he felt Anna's hand settle gently on his shoulder - he had become unused to such emotionally intimate touch - but she didn't seem to notice. "Well that's good to hear. But you need to keep busy. I know how you are, you get moody when bored, and then you'll misbehave with Lara or me. God knows *I'm* used to you - but Lara has to do well on her exams and graduate or they'll rescind her admission."

Paul smirked. He knew if he asked Anna who *they* were - where it was exactly that Lara was excited about going to college, he knew she wouldn't have an actual answer. He didn't bother prying this time - he'd already tested her on this, and been pleasantly surprised by the inventiveness of her answers, the way she tried to fill in the gaps of information that was simply *absent*. She'd offered him gems like "oh it's *that place out of state*" or "how could you forget Paul? It's your alma mater." These weren't things he'd precisely told her - but could be inferred from the much more bare facts he'd left them both with. The level of inventiveness occasionally worried him - but he'd not seen any indicators of them breaching any of the cognitive controls he'd put in place, and so he let it go.

He reached up and placed his hand over hers, feeling the warmth and the slight dampness there - she'd been working out after all - and turned to grin up at her. "Here, lean down, I want to show you something."

Anna blinked at him, and leaned down over him - Paul could find himself getting hard as gazed into the deep well of cleavage her sports bra created as she did. It was another new kink of his he'd discovered, seeing a beautiful woman with a fresh sheen of sweat, her hair tied up in a messy pony tail and without any make-up on - and he took full advantage as he reached up with both hands, and taking two firm grips of the straps of her bra, tugged firmly down so they slid down her arms and her tits popped free.

"Paul! What are you doing? Oh god no..." Anna trailed off as he latched onto one nipple with his mouth, happily suckling - and pinched the other, teasing it between two fingers as he felt it thicken in his grip as her arousal climbed.

Of course, the clothing *was also* a part of the fiction - shirts that tore strategically when pulled in the right way, panties that had weak stitching so he could experience the thrill of tearing them off night after night, and sports bras that were really rather shockingly easy to tug about in ways that any normal woman would have found inconvenient at best, deeply frustrating at worst.

Anna started moaning - she never resisted, but there was always that touch of betrayal and confusion when he did things to her a son didn't do to his *mother* - and it gave his broken soul exactly what he was looking for. He could order her to be his degenerate whore - or play the loving wife, ever faithful and excited to please him - but in a strange way he enjoyed having such a dedicated mother figure around, and the forbidden thrill when he decided to play with her never seemed to tire.

She wasn't really his mother anymore than his name was really Paul Garvey; no more than Lara was really his daughter. But she was a lot *like* his mother - and Lara was a lot like the daughter he barely remembered now. He'd found himself doing his best to rebuild them from his memories - his real mother, his real daughter - but he knew aspects of the wife he'd lost were in both of them too. That part - the widow bit - was true. Every lie was stronger when it had some of the truth in it...