My Mom, the High End Escort Ch. 02

Note to readers Hey friends - First I wanna say you can't imagine how grateful I feel about your upvotes, favorites, and comments. I want to share here the motivation of my story, so you know why it started in this particularly heart wrenching way.

I want to create a world in which the mom is not always readily available to her son.

I've noticed a common pattern in most mom-son incest stories. They are great works, but there is something I couldn't quite relate. The mother, after breaking the initial moral barrier, always end up submitting herself 100% to her son, becoming a complete mommy-toy.

Now, a mother is first and foremost a woman, with all her virtues and vices. She has her own wills and desires when it comes to sexuality. Being able to use her and enjoy her whatever way you want, just because you are her son, does not sound realistic to me.

Hence, I'm creating this series. Joey's mom is exemplary as a mother, never missed anything for her son's wellbeing and education. But as a woman, she can be greedy, dishonest, manipulative, and sometimes cruel. It will take her son tremendous effort to subdue her and make her his woman.

The central theme of this series will NOT be cuckoldry, although I do find that quite a turn-on, and will be exploring in that direction a bit more.

There is a special charm to Mom Cucking You, much more so than a cheating wife/girlfriend. Because psychologically, Mom is supposed to be the ONE woman in this world that always takes you for what you are, never rejects you, and always love you unconditionally. (I think that's the charm of mom-son incest stories in general - unconditional love in a world otherwise full of betrayals) So the realization of even Mom is cheating on you hurts and humiliates deeper than anything else.

But no worries, Joey will NOT be reduced into a wimpy cuckold sissy. He is nothing if not brave, just like Harry Potter. And with time he will regroup, adapt, and live to fight another day. (Go Team Joey!)

And really, thank y'all so much for your support. Please follow along with Joey's ride with his mom. It won't get any easier but will get better.

This is my first series, please be kind on voting! Love xoxo

Also, I do need an editor. Please reach out if you'd like to work with me😊

Previously, on My Mom, the High End Escort: I invited my beautiful real-estate agent mom to a thoughtfully planned dinner date to celebrate my 18th birthday and college, only to have her lie to me and leave early to get fucked by the provost of my school in the most degrading ways possible.

Chapter 02: The Confrontation, the Mysterious Woman, and the Spying

I ran upstairs, shut the door, and cuddled myself in the fetal position. When I was helplessly watching mom being fucked like a total degenerate a moment ago, I wish I could be alone to just let my tears run free. But now I am in a safe space, I could no longer cry. My eyes had already run dry and were starting to swell and get painful to the rubbing. The room was too bright for my liking, so I got up to close the blinds, and saw the sun rising above the treetops glowing over the wrinkles of the lake.

I marveled at the absurdity. The world was a beautiful place, and the day was still early, but here I am, already got my whole day destroyed. I wish I could just shut everything off and let time race by, but my brain wasn't letting me. You could wrench a wet towel to the hardest and let all the water drain, but even that wouldn't compare to the heart wrenching feeling I was having then.

I tried staring at the corner of the ceiling blankly and not close my eyes. But even with that, images of my mom getting violated, degraded, and worse, enjoying all that, just kept replaying in front of me. The images of her licking Mr Svenson, the provost's hairy butthole, of him fucking her face, of her face and neck getting bright pink from the excitement, of him shoving the white silk stockings into her mouth, of him slapping her and spitting on her face, of her eagerly anticipating his cum, of her counting the money, were just burning themselves into my retinas when I beg them to stop.

My phone rang several times, but I was too weak to pick it up. Brandon spoke to me from outside a few times, but I couldn't hear him at all. My ears were ringing like two jet engines on the sides of my head. It felt as if they were going to explode right the next second. I wouldn't have minded. Something should have put me out of my misery, and I was too weak to do it myself

*** ***

I had no idea how long I was twitching and turning in my agony, but when I opened my eyes again, the sun was setting outside. I was wakened up by Brandon's knocking on the door, "Joey, are you feeling better? The girls are here, Megan and Linda. You know, if you wanna come downstairs..."

"No thanks, tell them I'm sick. Tell them something." I muttered.

The stairs creaked, so I knew Brandon left. The bliss of just wakening up and almost forgetting the trauma stayed with me for but half a second, when agony inevitably took over again. One thousand voices and one thousand pictures started reveling in my brain:

My mom, the woman I love and respect the most in the world. The toughest person I know. The independent, strong-willed businesswoman. The well-mannered lady. Got fucked like a whore... She left me early at my birthday! She was absent-minded the whole time! She lied to me! The way she licked his ass... The way she sucked his cock... She was used and abused like a degenerate, yet she enjoyed it! The way she relished his cum... A clean freak as she is, she let him cum in her hair! She yelled at me when I messed up her hair as a kid! Oh God, please make it stop! My mom. My idol. My goddess...

"Joey! Open the door!" A feminine voice sounded outside, breaking the din in my head.

I slowly came back to reality. The voice must be Linda.

"Joey, I don't know what's happened with you. Brandon didn't tell us, but I know it's bad. Please let me in so we can talk about it" She continued.

It's definitely Linda. Always sounded so shy and timid. "I'm sick." I answered meekly.

"Look, I have the keys. You better get ready, because I'm opening the door in three, two, one -" The door creaked open, and Linda's bespectacled white face poked in.

Now, Linda was this pale, shy, nerdy girl that always had a crush on me since freshman year. We were in the same geeks group, and she always marveled at my intelligence and my weird sense of humor. We spend countless nights studying, talking, and playing video games. I was pretty sure she would give everything to be my girlfriend because she was already devoted to me.

Yet when I underwent a growth spurt, took on martial arts, and became more popular, it was the cheerleader-type Megan that I asked out. To be honest I didn't even consider her to be more attractive than Linda. She was too "standard" -- her blond hair was neither too light nor too dark, her body was neither too tall nor too short, neither too chubby nor too skinny, her mind neither too bright nor too stupid. She was just the kind of girl you see on every school's sports poster, and quickly forget. Yet this is the type of girl that's most popular in high school. You see, I let vanity took over my own preferences, and I wanted a taste of what every other jock tasted.

I lost my virginity to Megan in my Junior year. It wasn't very memorable to either of us. She wasn't sufficiently aroused so her vagina was a bit dry and painful, and I ejaculated within a few minutes. We tried a few times after that, and it did get better, but never more pleasurable than say, eating a cheesecake or winning a game, and never exciting. Her girl-body just did not turn me on enough. Megan gradually got offended by the fact that I was not as excited for her as "all guys should be", so she broke up with me a few months before graduation.

The person that got most affected by my first sexual experience was Linda. After hearing about it, she refused to talk to me for the better part of a year, until we recently reconnected by nerding out on colleges.

"Oh my god Joey! You look terrible! What happened?" Linda came in and exclaimed.

Seeing I was still laying dead in bed, she quietly sad on the edge of the bed, and moved my head her lap. She started gently stroking my hair and forehead, sometimes across my face. It was more than a bit helpful in temporarily stopping my head from wanting to explode. I nodded to her lightly as a gesture of gratitude, and we started talking. I can't say it helped reduce the pain, but certainly diverted my attention away from it.

My phone rang again, and this time I lifted it up. It was a text from Brandon:

"You mind if I have a go at Megan? I mean I know you guys were like, dating. But she's been all over me tonight and I don't want to miss it."

I chuckled at the irony. From what I know about the guy, honesty is not his strong suit. It was more of a confession from being weak-willed, because he couldn't otherwise handle the guilt of trying to sleep with my only-recently-broken-up ex-girlfriend. If he were truly an honest and upright guy, he would have tried not send a message that would further affect me, after what just happened to me. But I could care less. I felt dead inside.

Linda flipped around my phone and read the text. She fondled my hair and let out a slight sigh onto my face.

"She's such a whore, Joey. You deserve better." Linda said, with a firmness that's seldom found in her voice.

"You're right. My mom is such a whore. But do I deserve better?" I murmured and fell asleep on her lap.

*** ***

I spent the whole weekend at the lake house, ignoring a few texts from my mom. I let Brandon text my mom that I'm sick and need some rest. She called a few times afterwards and I didn't pick up. On Monday evening, I finally felt strong enough to get out. I carefully took the DVD and put it in my bag, said bye to Brandon, and drove off.

When I got home it was already dark. I met mom in the kitchen where she was making shrimp avocado salad, with a teapot boiling on the stove. It was the most bizarre situation ever, where I was crestfallen, broken inside, while she was her usual "just got off work" look -- wearing a light jacket and dress pants, barefoot on the kitchen floor. It was as if ten thousand years of hell had passed for me, while one uneventful second to her.

"How are you feeling, Joey? I was worried sick" She turned around, her tone not uncaring.

"Thanks mom, I'm feeling better. Just a cold or something." I answered meekly.

"Are you sure? You look pale. Let me make you some soup." She said, already turning to get the ingredients.

"No mom, listen. There's something I want to ask." I interrupted her.

"Sure, baby. Anything you want." She turned around again, calm as ever.

The two days I was laying in bed in the lake house, I was waiting for this moment. I was planning and plotting what kind of confrontation I wanted it to be. I wanted to catch her unguarded. I wanted to surprise her. I wanted to throw back all the humiliation she brought onto me. But when it was finally my chance to speak, all the confidence and cohesion escaped me,

"I saw you with Mr. Svenson..." I muttered; my right hand started shaking.

"Sit down, Joey," she commanded, "You're barely standing upright."

I sat down weakly on a chair, as I was told. Mom poured a cup of tea for me, grabbed a chair opposite me, and sat down herself.

"Listen, Joey. You are an adult now, so let's talk like adults." She said, her face suddenly serious, "You father passed away a long time ago, and I have my own personal life, just like every other adult. You ought to learn to respect other people's boundaries --"

"I saw you FUCKING Mr. Svenson." I interrupted her, irritated by her preaching.

"Watch your language, young man. You will not speak to me like that under this roof." mom lectured, barely raising her voice, but the stern tone could not be mistaken. "I am a free woman with her own needs. You are an adult now, you should understand. I did not date anyone all these years, for you! Because I was too busy taking care of you and didn't want any intruder in your life. Now that you are going to college, it's time for me to have some dating life again-"

"You let him fuck you in the most disgusting ways possible! You took the money! I saw it! I saw you counting the money!" I bellowed; anger finally took over my meekness, and my body started to shake all over "You are a PROSTITUTE! Do you deny it?"

Mom finally got taken aback by what I said. Her beautiful honey-colored face turned a bit pale, her green eyes wide with shock, and her florescent teeth started biting her lower lip. She ran her right hand up across her hair, let the hair fall behind her ear, and put the hand down. She got up, turned around, and grabbed the tea pot. She poured one cup for herself, turned back again, sat down, and took a sip, this time looking more composed.

"Joey, you want to talk like adults. Let's talk." She said, her voice soft again. "I do not deny it. I take pride in my work. It pays the bills. It got me new clients for my real-estate business. It paid you through your school. It made you the man that you are today."

"EXCUSE ME?" I yelled; my hand clawed onto the table to prevent me from shaking even worse. "YOU selling sex made ME what I am today?"

A drop of tear started rolling in my eye, despite my best efforts to block it. I was aghast at her apparent shamelessness, yet helpless at her total control of the situation.

"Yes, Joey. Please leave your emotions aside and think more realistically. How do you think we could live in this nice house all these years? Your dad left a mess of a company, and I had to tie up his loose ends. How much do you think real-estate agents make, eh? You went to Collier High. You have a nice car when you were 16! How did you think we pay for all these?" She pressed on, unrelenting in her tone.

"I don't know... I don't care. I don't need all these..." I felt broken. I wasn't broken so much by the merit of her argument but by her confidence. I felt totally tiny and insignificant in front of her. I started crying. "I don't know. I just want a normal life where everything is normal and just be happy... Not this."

"Normal you said, Joey? Let me give you a class of society 101. Let me clue you in. Do you think the average Jacks and Jills outside are normal? Shady public schools, seedy bathrooms. Is that normal? Kids using drugs, kids flunking out, kids stabbing each other. Is that normal? Teenage sluts getting pregnant, you call that normal? You'd rather have THAT? I shielded you from all that! I don't expect you to feel grateful, but it's time you understand!" She continued; the greens in her eyes burning like angry flames.

My eyes watered, and I took a deep sniff to suck back the snots that were coming out of nose. In a last-ditch desperate attempt to throw back at her, I grumbled "Did I just hear 'shady' and 'seedy' and 'sluts' coming out of your mouth, miss-"

No sooner did I finish saying that, than a slap landed on my face. It wasn't particularly forceful, but the psychological blow was total. It reduced me into a glob of sobbing mess. Tears and snots were coming out of my eyes and nose and landing on my shirt without any inhibition. I curled up my legs, landed my feet onto the edge of the chair, and hugged myself while burying my face in between my knees, and went on sobbing.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Mom tried to comfort me, a long-missed tenderness came back to her tone. "Here, here." She got up, walked to my side, took off her jacked, and wrapped it over my back. "I'm so sorry, look at me, would you?"

I raised my head slightly out of the wrap of my arms and knees, and looked up, tears covering my eyes.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Joey baby." She bent down and whispered, her face not more than a foot from mine, her beautiful green eyes looking straight into my teary ones.

"But it's time you learn the truth. I am proud of what I did. I did it for you, and I did it for myself. It was empowering. Hell, it's the most empowering feeling ever. I have all these men's balls in my hand, literally. They think they are so grand, and they look so grand when they're outside running their businesses. But in front of me they are nothing. You know why? Because they want me. They want my body. They want my mouth. They want my legs. They want what's between my legs. They want it so bad they would give up anything to get it. They worship me. I am their queen, their goddess. I love it. I love how powerful it makes me feel. You want to make me admit fault? You want to talk me out of it? Here's the truth. I wouldn't have given it up for your father. I'm not gonna give it up for you. I won't give it up for all the world. You hear me, baby boy?"

She stood up again and took off her tight pink t-shirt that she wore under the jacket and wiped my face gently with it. Even with all the tears in my eyes and all the chaos in my head, I couldn't help but noticing the silky black lingerie cupping her round buxom breasts, and her washboard-like stomach. I looked up at her face. Her eyes looked gentle and concerning, but her jawline firm and resolute. With the red kitchen lights shining off her golden-brown hair, and the honey-toned skin of her face and body, she looked like a perfect bronze goddess towering over me. She looked so tall.

I grabbed the pink shirt and dabbed it on my face a few more times, before laying it down on the table. I let out my arms, wrapped them on my mom's slender wrist, and put the side of my head onto her belly, and continued sobbing. She gently cupped my head with one arm and put the other hand on the back of my neck, then slowly started stroking my back.

After the emotional thunderstorm that just ravaged me, this was the most comforting thing anyone could ever do for me. Even rationally I knew she was the cause of the thunderstorm in the first place, I didn't care. She had always been the haven I go to whenever bad things in life stuck me. I had always found comfort and solace in her arms. She can't hurt me even if she was the one hurting me. Mom, you may want a thousand things in life, but I only want you.

After what was probably a good ten minutes, she gently lifted her arms from me, and lifted my head up. "I need to go pee and change. Have some food and tea, Joey. Let me know if you want some soup. I'll check on you in 20 minutes. OK?" With that, she took half a step back, gave my socked feet a little nudge with her bare right foot, gracefully turned, and left.

*** ***

It didn't take me very long before I realized I couldn't stay at home anymore. I knew I was in the right, but mom was somehow able to deflect my accusations and walk away from it. With her holding me in her arms like an injured little bird, I felt at peace again, but I knew perfectly that it won't take long before my rational brain brings up the question and make me confront her again. And with her total control of the situation, these issues would bounce off her again. It would just be as frustrating for me as punching into a pile of cotton, or thin air.

There was no way I could stay, I decided. I got upstairs, packed the minimal stuff I needed, and headed out to my Ford when mom was still in the shower. The question was deciding where to go. I have no extended families in town since dad died early (and was an immigrant), while mom's family disowned her a long time ago. I could certainly go to Linda, and I had no doubt she would support me emotionally as best as she could. But I also felt I did not have the emotional energy to explain the situation to her or react to her possible reactions. Eventually I decided on Brandon, not least because he already knew what was going on. There was also the additional factor that his family owned a big house so I would have a room to shut myself in instead of crashing on the couch.