Prelude to Wickedness

Not that he ever spoke crudely. Their drunken conversation ten months previously had not involved swearing or euphemisms. He had been forthright, open and explicit, but never course.

Her mind drifted back to his reaction to seeing her in the arrivals lounge. He had looked genuinely confused and she had little doubt he had mistaken her for his darling whore.

More then that, when he had pulled her into his chest and kissed her with passion, she felt sure he was kissing Silki, not her.

The erection seemed to reinforce her thoughts. For those brief moments of meeting she had become Silki, and had spontaneously acted like his girlfriend by wrapping her legs around him and been rewarded by a huge throbbing erection.

She supposed she should have reacted differently, drawn away from him in protest, yet she had enjoyed the experience, recalling how it felt to be in the embrace of a man who wanted her.

He must have become aware of her studying his face because he turned towards her, gave her a flashing smile and held out one hand for her to hold.

Without thinking she withdrew an arm from beneath her jacket, and reaching out took his hand.

They drove the next couple of miles like that. He didn't speak but she felt his pain and an apology flowing between them like an electric current.

Eventually he let go of her hand as he had to indicate and negotiate the turn off the M56 Motorway and head towards their home in rural Cheshire.

Tom's head was a maelstrom of thoughts. On one hand his planned liaison with senior stewardess Trudy Van Donk had evaporated in a puff of smoke when she had seen him in a deeply sexual embrace with... with Silki... with his mom!

How did that happen?

As he looked across at his adopted mother he felt that confusion again, the same frisson he had felt when mistaking her for Silki.

Even now it was difficult to take in the changes that ten months had made to his mother. It was her, yet it was also Silki. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable holding on to his hand.

A blonde amazon.

Every time he looked at her he felt like reaching across and feeling those amazing tits and erect. nipples. She had changed so much. A magical transformation from cuddly mum to beautiful woman. And she looked no older than him. Unbelievable.

As he glanced at her again all he could feel was the desire to fuck her. Then the dissonance kicked in again, fuck his adopted mom! Absurd.

Scene 8

It was just after 5am when she closed the front door behind them and turned the lock. The rain had stopped a couple of miles back but Tom was still shivering. Glad she had decided to keep the central heating turned up she urged him to get upstairs, take his wet clothes off and warm himself up thoroughly under the wet room shower.

He didn't need to be told twice, took the stairs two at a time and dived into his old room.

She watched him disappear from view before removing her damp jacket and scarf and walk into the kitchen to put the kettle on for hot drinks for them both.

It was comforting to hear him padding around in the rooms above, then she heard the sound of the power shower and his voice trying to sing some popular German song.

But no matter what she did to occupy her mind, her thoughts kept returning to that kiss, her binding him tightly with her legs and the electric feeling as he became hard and tried to push it into her through her tight jeans. It had felt huge, bigger than John's. She reflected that a couple of hours earlier John's was the first and only adult penis she had ever seen and felt. Now she realised that it probably was not as huge as she had believed.

Feeling another impulsive moment of madness she had an uncontrollable urge to see Tom's penis!

'Don't be stupid,' she told herself, but her hands were trembling with excitement as she contrived to make him a coffee and take it up to his bedroom. If she timed it just right she might just, 'accidentally' intercept him walking back to his bedroom naked.

Part of her screamed not to be so stupid but the other part trembled with anticipation and thrilling feelings of wickedness. And perhaps if she retouched her hair and makeup... and tucked her 'T' shirt tightly into her jeans, she might even cause him another hard on.

But that was dumb, she realised that she could watch him just the same from her own bedroom if she left her door open. Then more exciting ideas grew in her burgeoning imagination.

Tom was still singing to himself as she made her way upstairs carrying two mugs of hot coffee and a large plate of freshly buttered toast.

As she passed the bathroom she called out to him, "Tom love, I've made us coffee and toast, shall I put it in your bedroom?"

"That'll be great Mum," he called back, "I'm almost finished here."

She placed the coffee and plate of toast beside his bed then instinctively stopped to pick up his discarded wet shirt, trousers, shorts and socks, just as she had done so often when he still lived at home.

This time it felt different. Her hands were still uncontrollably trembling.

Then almost as a relief, she drew his shorts to her nose and breathed in the faint odour of his prick, instantly recognising the familiar smell of pre-cum, just like she had so often detected on her husbands underclothes.

She wondered if the pre-cum had seeped out onto his clothes when he thought of jumping into bed with those two stunning airline stewardesses, or when he had pushed it into her as they embraced?

The sound of the shower stopped suddenly and she hurried across the landing into her own room.

Checking she could still be seen from the wet room door she threw his clothes into a corner and began undressing.

She imagined Tom towelling himself dry and spraying his underarms with the new can of deodorant she had bought for him just yesterday.

When she was stripped down to only her silk panties she paused, turned to face towards her dressing table mirror and waited. Her heart was pounding, hands trembling.

A minute or so later she heard the wet room door catch slide across, the door open and the click of the light switch.

She waited a heartbeat before slowly sliding down her silken panties, first as far as her ankles then lifted one foot to step out, then the other.

Carefully she glanced into the mirror. There he stood looking like a perfect Greek sculpture, his muscles catching the lights from the landing and illuminating his beautiful prick.

She started for a moment as she realised that he had been circumcised, revealing the pink head of the longest and thickest prick she could have imagined! Her head was spinning and she felt overwhelmed with a heady mix of guilt and desire.

Tom felt fresh and warm after his shower, his body temperature was restored and all tiredness washed away. He was looking forward to his hot drink and a few rounds of his Mum's thickly buttered toast.

Noticing the can of his favourite body deodorant he gave himself a couple of short bursts under his arms, one down each leg before twisting around and spraying his back. Then feeling really good, he opened the wet room door, clicked off the light and stepped out naked onto the landing.

After living alone in his German penthouse for the past three years he had got into the habit of walking about the place naked, it felt natural.

He couldn't have missed seeing her if he'd tried. The landing lights were on but the strongest light source came from his mother's open bedroom door.

And there she was, standing silhouetted in front of her dressing table, or rather bent forwards intent on stepping out of her knickers. She was still wearing those stiletto heeled pixie boots - nothing else.

The sight of her in such an erotic pose stopped him in his tracks. As if instantly hypnotised he just stood there taking in as much of the scene as any man would.

She looked sensational. Still seemingly unaware of his presence she stepped out of her panties, tossed them into one corner and carefully drew herself up to her full height.

The light from her bedside lamp cast a golden halo around her silhouette, as if a master artist had carefully drawn a thin outline of burnished gold around her.

With her hair still pinned up in an up-do, her breasts and nipples sticking out prominently and that perfect curve to her lower back and butt, she looked so much like Silki in her working room at the brothel.

As he watched she seem to be examining her figure in her mirror, running her hand across and under her tits, slightly turning and twisting from side to side. Then she turned slightly and the golden light caught the delicate outline of her legs and he saw a delicious gap at the top of her legs, the golden gate into the promised land.

He loved to see that gap and the outline of pubic hair.

Unable to control his feelings he felt the inevitable reaction of his prick, thickening around the base, filling with coursing blood to slowly raise it into a proud hard on.

Then sense kicked in, sanity resumed and, fearful of being found acting like some perverted voyeur, he stepped sideways away from her bedroom door and padded silently into his own room. As his door clicked shut he breathed a deep sigh of relief that she hadn't had to witness him sexually aroused by her presence.

His heart was pounding with excitement as he reached down to feel his rock-hard prick, throbbing and eager for action.

Slumped back against his cold bedroom door, What the fuck has got into me, am I going off my head? he thought.

What if she'd seen him, drooling with lust at the sight of his adopted mother. What would she have thought of him, perverted, lewd, sick?

It might have driven a wedge between them, separating them just as he had done with his father.

He was still leaning against the door, when he heard a gentle tap and his Mum's soft voice, "I'm going back downstairs for a drink Tom, I won't be able to sleep for a while after that journey. Come on down for a chat if you're not too tired?"

Glancing down at his slowly retracting erection he pushed back against the door in case she might unwittingly try to open it.

"Okay Mum," he called back, "I'll just get changed into something warm and I'll come down to join you. And thanks again for the coffee and toast!"

He heard her soft footsteps retreating downstairs as she called back, "Your welcome love, it's so good to have you home again."

Reaching the foot of the stairs she paused to look back at his door. She had slipped into those black silk pyjamas that John had encouraged her to buy, then seemed to ignore.

The house had warmed through and she felt warm and comfortable.

From where she stood she could make out the reflected light escaping through the gap around his door and she pictured him trying to dress with that huge erection. Then smiling, she felt a thrill pass through her body from head to toe, followed by a warm feeling of satisfaction that it was her new body that had caused that erection.

It was at that moment, as she stood gazing upwards, that she felt the first stirrings of something dark and dangerous creeping into the deep recesses of her mind, something both thrilling and dangerous. She shivered as she realised the nature of that feeling, it was wickedness.

A slithering, malicious corruption of her soul now unleashed upon her mind, it began it's insidious and inexorable advance into every sinew and fibre of her being.

Wicked thoughts surfaced one by one, into her consciousness, thoughts that began polluting and infecting her moral code, that sense of right and wrong that had guided her through life so far.

She trembled at the stirrings of fresh carnal desire, emotions that had never crossed her mind.

And for the first time she heard a small voice, deep inside her, urging dark sexual desires.

It was as if she had, in that moment, become another person, a wicked corrupt, scheming slut.

Breaking her upwards stare, she blinked, the first simple blink of her new dark life. Instinctively she again cupped both breasts, gently circled both areoles and caressed both deliciously sensitive nipples.

Then turning to move into the lounge she became aware of a warm glowing feeling between her legs, it was moist with desire.

Scene 9

She felt on fire as she tried to decide what to do next, how to keep Tom's embers glowing?

How could she use her new sexuality, how far dare she push him?

Why am I doing this? she pondered.

Then she realised why, it was because now she could!

Why her Tom? Because he was a man, because he was there!

Images flashed through her mind, dark scenes, scenes of her and her son, wicked scenes of her riding his hard prick, her on her knees in front of him, his trousers and pants around his ankles, her sucking his hard prick!

It was all dark fantasies, filth that somehow surfaced from the deep pool of wickedness that everyone has laying dormant in the lizard part of their brains.

Right then the voice was reassuring her, gently persuading, it would be alright.

He's not your birth son, You're unable to bear children, his seed would just seep out of you. No harm. Go on, it'll be alright. No need for doubt, he might even love you more for giving your body to him. Think of his huge prick sliding into you. No harm done, go on.

And so it continued like the smooth tongued serpent whispering to Eve to pick the apple from the forbidden tree. Go on...

Finally she succumbed, finally persuaded.

Should I change into something more revealing?

What should I be doing when he joins me in the lounge.

Which part of my body should I use to entrap him?

He seemed to like my tits. Yes that was it, cleavage and nipples, at least to start with.

Moving across to the wall mirror she undid the top two buttons of her pyjama top. She bent forwards, tried to pull open the collars even stretched the material to see how it showed off her cleavage.

Non of it worked.

The silk pyjamas were the worst thing she could have worn. 'Shit!"

In the bedroom above she heard Tom moving around. He would be walking down stairs very soon.

Damn! This isn't how I want him to see me!

Then with a flash of inspiration she hurried out of the lounge, down the carpeted corridors, through the kitchen and into the utility room. Opening a wall cupboard she took down a pile of freshly washed and pressed clothes.

As she feverishly searched through her clothes and underwear she heard him switch off his bedroom light and walk across the landing, heading for the stairs.

Then she found something that would do, it was one of her white running 'T' shirts that had shrunk after she put it on a hot wash.

Quickly shrugging off her pyjamas top she squeezed herself into the clinging 'T' shirt, struggling to pull it down over her hard tits. Looking down to admire her nipples which now stood out like neat wooden pegs, she again felt the delicious thrill of her new found wickedness.

My prelude to wickedness she thought.

I must look like a dirty, slutty, whore in this, and for a moment almost took it off, even though that was precisely the effect the voice in her lizard brain was urging her to achieve.

He was heading down the stairs now, and she heard him call out to her, "Hey Mum, where are you?"

"I won't be a minute love," she called back, "We're in the main lounge, turn on the fire and pour us a couple of glasses of wine will you?"

"Sure Mum," he called back and she heard him walk into the lounge, click on the fire and begin humming that same German tune to himself.

Her heart was thudding with excitement as she pulled out a pair of black body-hugging leggings. It took only a moment to drop her pyjama bottoms, but instead of looking for panties to wear under the leggings, she hesitated, ran a hand between her legs and felt the elicit thrill of her moist sex, warm and ready to receive a hard prick.

The devil was in her as she pulled on the tight leggings, and smoothed out any creases that might spoil the effect.

"I'm coming Tom!" she called, "You poured me a big glass full yet?"

The irony of her words struck her. No I'm not coming yet, but I soon will be!

The lizard part of her brain sent another shiver of sexual anticipation through her body as she walked toward the lounge door.

This wasn't how I would have wanted to look had I more time, but it will have to do.

No bra and a translucent cotton material worn with skin tight leggings that clearly show I'm not wearing panties should be enough to tempt him after a few glasses of wine?

As she took the last few steps towards the lounge she realised that she had little or no experience of sexual seduction. Since her marriage, sex had come to her, regularly, hard, passionate and wonderfully enjoyable.

But that was then, and this was now.

If she hoped ever to feel the thrill and physical touch of erotic sex again she had to get out there and find it. But quite how she was going to get his prick inside her was beyond her imagination.

Perhaps if I get him a little drunk, tantalise him with my tits, some ideas might come to me?

This had to be her first attempt to scale the steep learning curve of modern seduction.

With that thought and the constant urging from her lizard brain, she stepped into the lounge.

Upstairs in his bedroom He waited a couple of minutes for his erection to subside. His heart was still beating hard in his chest, his mind still full of the sight of her amazing body and the erotic way she had slowly slipped off her panties. Those breasts were even more perfect than those Silki used to hang tantalisingly above his lips for him to suck on her hard nipples, and sometimes push them together so he could thrust his cock between those wonderful mounds, his body arching and bucking as he came hard between them.

What the fuck is going on in my head. Am I sick, hallucinating?

Has someone drugged my drink, have I been hypnotised or a spell cast on me?

Am I going mad?

Jesus!

This is my adopted mother I'm fantasising about!

A wave of shame rippled through him as he remembered that kiss at the airport. Had she really kissed him back, wrapped her long legs around him, deliberately pressed her sex harder onto his obvious erection. And what was that moment on the landing all about? Had he nearly come just looking at her undressing?

Dare I go downstairs to sit with her? Should I risk our future relationship with an unwanted touch or inappropriate suggestion?

Warm room, good wine, a beautiful woman, a near perfect replica of my dream whore. Where might this night end?

There's such a lot at stake!

But now his lizard brain was awake and in persuasive mood, and from somewhere deep down there came an answer. His head filled with lust-driven and dark obsessive images, short staccato scenes of taking her from behind, gripping her hips while he rammed his rampant cock into her and climaxed with ropes of cum gushing into her pussy.

They were so vivid he could almost smell their body fluids mixing and hear her groans as he fucked her harder, longer and deeper than his Dad could ever dream of.

Now he knew that it was inevitable, and she was just a beautiful siren luring a hypnotised mariner to his demise onto waiting rocks.

And why not?

The slut was asking for it!

Look how she had come on to me at the airport.

Now she'll find out the hard way what I can do!

His prick was already thickening around the base as blood filled his shaft and he had to reach down to adjust his pants and allow it to grow.

Scene 10

"How much!" It was Tom. He almost spilt his glass of wine in surprise.

"Two hundred and twenty thousand, why, don't you think I'm worth it?"

They were sitting on the sofa together, mellow and cosy from the heat of the fire and warmed through by excellent red wine.