Photographs Ch. 09

DISCLAIMER:This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on.

Two years passed. Danny and Christie made love when they could and fucked like monkeys when Steve was on his trips. They also spent a great deal of time together, both in public and at home, whether Steve was away or not. Movies, concerts, sight-seeing in Tiajuana or up the coast, trips to the beach. They kept it casual, refrained from touching each other in public, and if they ran into acquaintances they always invited them to join in their party, as if they weren't actually on a date. It didn't matter. They were still spending time together, building memories, sharing experiences they would discuss or remember later. Christie knew that it was far different than the relationship of a normal mother and twenty-year-old son. She only hoped no one noticed.

The royals went to Asia, and Steve followed on his annual three-week paparazzi trip. Christie and Danny decided for the first time in the two years they had been sleeping together to make a long weekend out of town, and to travel as a couple. Christie used her married name, Tyler, while Danny had been christened with her maiden name, MacAwley. It helped that ethnically, they looked nothing alike.

"I guess I'm a cougar on this trip," Christie said as they entered their hotel room.

"You're always a cougar."

"I am not. I never look at other young men."

"I saw you checking out the bellboy."

"He had toilet paper stuck to his shoe."

Danny laughed and heaved her stuffed suitcase onto an arm chair. She chose a luxurious hotel in Flagstaff, Arizona, near the Grand Canyon. The floors were pinkish beige tile, cool under bare feet in the desert heat. The decor was light and spare, pale beige accented with blues and greens. When she pulled back the heavy, heat-blocking curtains from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the room was flooded with golden afternoon light. This place, being there openly with Danny, made her feel like she was flying free. Danny felt it, too, she could see by the grin he gave her as he picked her up and they kissed, her toes not quite touching the floor.

"Put me down. You'll strain something and I want you whole this weekend."

"I want you naked this weekend. Shut those curtains again."

She turned around after pulling the last curtain shut and found him already naked, clothes strewn across the floor. He unbuttoned half of the buttons of her blouse and then yanked it over her head and threw it on the floor.

"Don't you want to freshen up?" she asked.

"Nope. I want you." Her bra followed her blouse.

"Maybe I want to freshen up."

"Hygiene is for the birds."

They kissed while he expertly unzipped her skirt and drew it down over her hips, taking her panties along with it. Once she was naked, he pushed her down on her back onto the bed and spread her knees.

"Ever heard of foreplay?" she asked.

"Afterplay," he said. "And I'll bet you twenty dollars you are already hot and wet for me."

She laughed. "I'd lose that bet. On your back."

Danny obliged, rolling onto his back and pulling her down over him. She lowered herself onto his cock slowly, and stopped there, her eyes closed, face tilted up to expose her long pale neck. He would never tire of seeing her like this, legs spread to widen her hips, narrow waist, breasts hanging over him. It made his heart full to see her.

"Hmmm," she sighed as she began to move up and down on his shaft. "This is nice."

"Nice? Just nice? Shouldn't we--ah!" She did something inside, squeezing him impossibly tighter. "Aim higher?" he said in a squeaky voice.

She continued to squeeze rhythmically as she raised and lowered herself. It was similar to when she came, but slower and lasted longer. Danny pulled her down until he could suck her nipples into his mouth and kiss her lips. His hands roved her back, gripping her long hair. For a time the only sounds were their small sighs and the rhythmic noises of their fucking. Then he bit her low on the neck, sucking at the spot to make a love bite. Christie cried out and came, saying his name. Soon after he was spurting his cum into her, pulse after pulse of it until he was spent.

Christie swayed above him for a few seconds, and then collapsed onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her there for a long time.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," she whispered back.

He never tired of saying it, never tired of hearing her say it in return. Throughout the month, while they kept up their normal relationship in front of Steve, they said it daily in that perfunctory way mother and child often do. All too seldom did they get to say it like this, romantically, as lovers. Two years they had lived like this, and while he was happier than he had ever been, he wanted more. They had to find a way out of her marriage.

For now, though, he was content. He pushed her over onto her back.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Afterplay." He spread her legs apart and kissed her inner thigh, licking the smooth skin. With his fingers he ruffled the neatly trimmed curls of her mound, pressing slightly on the folds over her clit. He had asked her once if she would shave and from the heat of her refusal he learned one thing: never ask again. Even Steve hadn't been able to coerce that out of her.

He drew his tongue up the outside her slit from bottom to top. He did it again. And again. He loved the smell, pungent but clean, and the salty-sweet taste of her, mixed with the acrid taste of his own cum.

"I'll never get over the way you like to lick me when I'm full of your cum."

She was already very sensitive from having just come, and she began to squirm each time he reached the top and flicked his tongue near her clitoris. He laughed a little. Slowly each stroke went higher, closer to her clit, until he was circling it, but not quite covering it.

"Danny," she said, not quite begging.

He teased some more, going back to tonguing her entire slit.

"Danny, please."

He laughed again and returned to her clit, enveloping it in his mouth this time, briefly sucking on it, her curls tickling his face. There was something he wanted to try, so he wouldn't let her come too quickly. While he continued to tease her clit, he slipped two fingers into her. Christie moved her hips, trying to fuck his fingers. He fingered her g-spot and began to suck on her sensitive little nub. When he thought she was very close, he removed his cum-soaked fingers from inside her and moved them downward to her anus. He pressed her small hole for only seconds, before she could think to protest, and gently shoved his forefinger inside.

"Danny!"

"Shhhh, Christie. Just try it. That's all. Does it hurt? I'll stop if it hurts."

"It... It doesn't hurt."

"Does it feel good?"

He resumed sucking on her clit, now gently fucking her asshole with his finger. Christie was quiet for some time, her writhing and moaning temporarily ceased. She could feel the gentle scrape of his fingernail, but other than that, it mostly felt good.

"Two fingers," she a few minutes later. "Two."

Her hips started to rock again. Christie clutched the bedspread in her fists to either side of her body.

"More, Danny!" She groaned. "I'm going to come, Danny."

She bucked violently, and Danny worked faster, sucking and nipping at her clit and fucking her ass with his fingers more quickly, harder and deeper. In a moment she came. Danny licked a little longer, only stopping when she begged him to. He crawled up beside her and held her in his arms.

"Danny," she said when her breathing returned to normal. "I don't think I can do any more than that."

Christie had told him that in addition to the violent penetration Andy had inflicted upon her during the rape, Steve had also forced her to have anal sex. When she had refused, one of the few things she wouldn't give him automatically because of the blackmail, he had taken her ass forcibly. He had raped his wife, as if their entire sex life wasn't already a type of rape. Her fear of anal sex was now absolute, and suddenly he felt like a monster for asking for it.

"I won't ask again, Christie."

"But you want it. I can tell."

"And you're traumatized and I am a total shithead for asking for it."

"I would try it if it would make you happy. If we could take it slow. I've read about it. If you're careful it's supposed to feel good." Her voice was doubtful. "You're awfully big."

He squeezed her tight and gave her a kiss on the cheek out of frustration. "When are you going to realize that what you want matters? Hmm? You matter, Christie. You matter very much to me and to many other people, but not to yourself."

She didn't respond to that. Only rested against him for a while before asking, "My turn?"

"Naw. I want to hold you for a while."

"Okay. I'll be the lazy one today," she said and snuggled her face into his chest.

"You went down on me before we left today."

"True, but you never can get enough."

He laughed. "Am I too virile for you?"

"I'm reaching my peak years. I'll be insatiable."

"You already are."

Now she laughed. "You know those monkeys we saw in that documentary, who fuck all the time? That's us."

Although they were both eager to see Flagstaff, they had driven all day from Los Angeles, and wanted to rest up and be ready for hiking in the Grand Canyon tomorrow. They ordered room service, used the jacuzzi, where Danny got his blow job, and bought a movie to watch while sitting naked together in bed. Christie had brought microwave popcorn, and she made it while the news came on, then settled back to sitting up in bed with him.

"Do you think this relationship is making you more mature, or making me regress?" she asked as she tossed a kernel in the air for Danny to catch in his mouth. He missed it, picked it up off the pillow, and fed it to her.

"Regressing. Totally."

"Yes," she sighed with mock sadness. "Soon I'll be going to court barefoot, in a Pink concert t-shirt and torn jeans."

"Would it be a tight t-shirt?"

She elbowed him lightly. "You're such a guy." He caught the kernel this time and she leaned own to give him a quick kiss..

"Definitely tight, and one of those short ones that show your belly," he said.

"And the jeans will be low-cut so you almost see my crack in back. And I'll have a tramp stamp."

"And it will say 'Property of Danny.'"

She giggled. "We'll have to settle for 'Taken.'"

He bared a bicep. "Then I'll get a big red heart that says 'Mom.'"

"Don't you ever get a tattoo."

"I know. You hate tat-- What was that?" he said, staring at the TV.

"What?"

"Shhhh. Listen."

"--employers are now using cell phone spy software to track traveling employees. One major cable network has spy software installed on all company cell phones to track the whereabouts of personnel out on service calls. Parents have also found cell phone spy software useful to see if their children are really at the best friend's house overnight."

They listened to the rest of the segment, then Christie grabbed the remote and turned the sound down. "I wonder if he'd be able to detect if it's on there." She wore a big grin on her face. For six months after they started having sex, Christie and Danny had put their heads together, but had come up with few new ideas. Danny did have the idea of making a property search, but they found no unknown properties listed in Steve's name. They tried trackers on his car again, but he found them the same day. Bugs in his office produced hours of boring conversations punctuated with the sound of shutters clicking, which Christie had warned Danny would be the results. But this...

"This could work," Danny said. "What I heard at first was them saying it was unobtrusive."

"If we could make it run in the background, he might go a long time before he finds it. He never shuts the phone off, and he's religious about keeping it charged, so we might be able to put it on there, start it running, and not have to do anything else."

"Damn. We have to get that software, no matter what the price."

#####

Steve returned from Asia, happy and exhausted. He came to Christie's bed eagerly, but only wanted straight sex, and immediately returned to his own room to sleep. They were able to install the software on his phone the first night. For two weeks afterward they were glued to the monitor, cataloging his whereabouts. The portrait studio every day, home for dinner every evening, then weekends of hopping from place to place following celebrities from movie premiers to night clubs to late-night parties, and then sometimes to private homes. One night he went to Bel Air, saying he was going to try to crash a celebrity party, but his phone only stayed there half an hour before moving to an address on the outskirts of the city.

Christie, who was at the computer that night, went upstairs to get Danny from his room.

"Studying on a Friday night?" she asked him when she saw him sprawled on his bed with a textbook in his hand.

"We're going to Berkley tomorrow for a game," he said without looking up from his book. Danny had elected to play college basketball, trying out and earning a place on the UCLA team. He was doing well, moving to varsity in his sophomore year and getting court time every game, but he found the combination of basketball practice and pre-med grueling.

"Well then, I'll have to investigate this interesting development on my own."

He looked up. "What development? Did he go somewhere?" he asked, sitting up straight.

"Well, I just pulled up the satellite image." She smiled wickedly and her eyes shone. "It's a storage area."

Danny jumped off the bed. "Is he still there?"

"Probably. It would be best to scope the place out while he's there. That's the easiest way to find out which unit he's using." She sat down on his bed.

"I'll go. You can tell him I went out with some guys from the team. I do that often enough. I'll be sure to come back late enough to make it plausible."

"Yes!" She made shooing motions. "Go. Go."

#####

Christie watched the tracking software for three hours, but knew it was futile. Steve left the storage area forty-five minutes after Danny drove off, and the drive would have taken him at least an hour. So close, she thought, slumped before the computer. She had sent a text to Danny to tell him not to waste his time.

From the storage area, Steve went back to the house in Bel Air and then came home. She turned off the computer when he turned onto their street, and went to her room to be in bed when he entered the house. Several minutes later Steve summoned her to his studio, locking them in together. He took her on the floor, bound and gagged, and beat her with the strap until she was red from shoulder to thigh, and then brought out the cane again. Christie didn't fight this time, and hadn't more than twice in the two years since Danny witnessed her torture at her husband's hands. Before she lost the ability to think, as she crouched on the floor on hands and knees with the cane bearing down on her ass, Christie had the feeling that the night's episode was staged. Steve posed her.

"Collapse onto the floor," he told her. When she complied, he gripped her hips roughly and pulled her back up. In the morning she would have finger-shaped bruises there.

"Now try to crawl away," he said after the cane hit her for the fifth time. He somehow managed to control himself, even while in the throes of intense arousal. Steve grunted almost as loud as she did, and once he even moaned. Still, he almost never broke the skin.

She dragged herself across the rough carpet until Steve pounced on her. The cane flew across the room. Steve hurriedly rolled on a condom he had held him his palm the entire time, and then he was fucking her roughly from behind. Steve wanted a child with her, and only used condoms during the worst beatings, his personal rape fantasy.

A dress rehearsal, but for what?

Christie had endured too much humiliation to feel it very often, but pain would never die. Her mind gave up trying to pierce the red haze her thoughts had become. Steve fucked her from behind, shoving her body forward with each fierce thrust. Her body soldiered on, but her mind surrendered. She forgot about rape fantasies and simply survived.

#####

Later, Steve slept, sated and satisfied; she heard his snores through his bedroom door. Christie had stumbled to her room when he untied and left her, shaking but dry-eyed on the studio floor. For an hour or two, she dozed on her stomach in her bed. She lay naked and without covers, her back in too much pain to bear even the weight of a sheet. Hearing Danny enter, she took the risk of going to his room. Already looking dejected from not catching Steve at the storage area, his face fell even further when he saw the antibiotics in her hand.

"Lie down," he said, pulling her gently to the bed and removing the robe she had worn for her trip down the hall. He shoved aside the books and papers still lying there and helped her onto her stomach.

"The good news is he didn't hit your back this time," he said softly as he opened antibiotics. "The bad news is this he didn't manage to miss a single square inch of skin with the strap."

"Believe me, I know," she said in a voice hoarse from screaming.

"Ice?" he asked.

"Not tonight."

"You should. You'll heal faster."

"I know, but he's here and I'm just too tired."

Slow and gentle hands spread the ointment across her inflamed skin. "He's getting worse, Christie."

"I know."

"We have to get you out of this marriage, and we need to right away."

"I know," she said softly. "I feel like things are spinning out of control with him. Do you think he suspects?"

Danny shook his head. "Not us, but I think he might suspect there's someone. When was the last time you checked for bugs?"

"Two days ago."

"I think we need to do it every day, and assume he hears us if we haven't.

"Okay. I agree."

He brushed aside her long dark curls to bare her upper back. Bending down, he placed a lingering kiss on the nape of her neck.

"Stop. Don't even be tempted," she whispered.

So he talked to her while he smoothed the ointment over her back and buttocks, taking his time, working slowly to make these moments last. He talked about his friends and his studies, basketball, but only the happy things. The good grades and triumphs on the court. Jokes he'd heard. Even if she didn't laugh at them, they helped. Lit only by a bedside lamp, his room felt like a soft cocoon, the outside world and all their current problems fading away. She started to doze. Regretfully, he had to wake her, and he did so by kneeling by the bed to bring his face level with hers, and kissing her cheek. "Time to go," he said quietly. She nodded sleepily but managed to rouse herself.

After checking the hall, he held the door open for her.

"Don't lose hope, Christie," he said. "We're close." And in that moment, he really believed it.

######

Two days later, their world fell apart: Christie found a bug in her bedroom, just one, a bug obviously missed from a previous search. It was taped to the back of her headboard, silently emitting signals to a receiver that could be as far as a block away. Christie had poked around the neighborhood, but never found it. Wherever it was, it had to be a place Steve would go anyway, because the phone tracker had not shown him visiting anywhere unusual.