The Adventures of a Slut Mommie Ch. 01

Disappointed, I moued, "You mean I'll still smoke?"

"I've set your appointments a fortnight apart, Katie," Edgar explained. "However, I think before you've returned for your second one, you will have begun smoking again. You may start again before your third, but your addiction should completely disappear after the fourth. Whether I'm successful at curing your addiction or not will depend on you removing yourself from any stressful situations you find yourself in and avoiding any parties until I've cured your addiction."

'That shouldn't be a problem,' I thought. 'Sean is back for a week after next week, then gone for two more after that, so there won't be any corporate dos that he'll need me to be eye candy for, and with him gone, stress won't be part of my life.'

Nodding, I asked if we were done for the day and, at his permission, followed him back to the reception area. "Slut!" Edgar muttered as I passed him. My hips bucked as my pussy instantly flooded with arousal. I'm sorry? I asked, ignoring my suddenly wanting pussy. What did you say? "Nothing, Mrs Muggleton," the therapist denied. "I didn't say a word." Turning to his receptionist, Edgar said, "Mrs Muggleton needs three more appointments booked, each approximately two weeks apart and for the same duration as this one. Arrange those with her, please."

He moved past me and muttered, "Slut." as he turned into the hallway to his rooms. Biting my lip to prevent a moan as my hips shuddered, I asked Sorry? What did you say? Edgar looked toward me as if I were hearing things and politely said, "I'm sorry, Katie. Occasionally, when I plant a suggestion under deep hypnosis, the patient will think they hear my voice, even though I haven't uttered a word. However, this effect will be short-lived, so don't concern yourself. Slut" Did you just call me a slut? I protested behind an overwhelming desire to orgasm. "No, Katie. As if I would call anyone that!"

Edgar walked away as I stared, wondering if his words were true. Was I hearing things? Was the voice I heard only in my mind, or was the therapist using a post-hypnotic suggestion to cause me to react sexually to being called slut? I couldn't seem to follow that thought because, as I tried, my mind wandered off to more mundane subjects.

"Ahem," the receptionist interrupted my thoughts. "For today's consultation and set up, the fee is $350, Ms Muggleton. Subsequent appointments are $280. Would you prefer to pay for all four upfront? If you do, we offer a 15% reduction on the total cost. Slut."

Barely stifling a moan of desire, I agreed to pay the total amount, with the discount, for the four appointments and took out my credit card. Paying the asked amount, I put my card away, arranged my three further appointments, and walked from the clinic.

As I turned to leave, I heard, "Slut!" and barely held my composure as my arousal fluids flowed from my pussy and down my inner thighs. Somehow, I contained myself until I sat in my Audi. But once seated, I could stand no more, and I ripped my dress above my flaring hips and stuffed two fingers in my pussy. Finding my clitoris with my thumb, I twirled it around and exploded into an extreme orgasm, my hips bucking and thrusting as my fluids poured onto the car seat.

'Wtf?' I thought as I started my car and drove home. As I drove, a strange smell kept wafting into my nostrils. 'Not semen,' I decided. 'Pussy juice? Not mine, however!' I had no idea but decided that everything I felt, thought I'd heard, and smelt must have been part of what Mister Fontaine had done to cure my nicotine addiction, and I decided not to worry about it.

Only my daughter, Kirsty, was home when I returned. Sean, of course, wouldn't be home until late Friday week, and I guessed Johnny would have been at footy training. Wearing nothing but a tank top that barely covered her C-cups and a tiny thong, Kirsty sat on a stool at the kitchen bench with her left leg bent and her foot tucked under her right buttock. Sitting like that stretched my daughter's panties tight across her pudenda and pulled them to the side. The right side of Kirsty's pussy lips peered past her thong, and her slit and clit sat there, clearly defined by her clinging underwear.

I stared, I couldn't help myself. Kirsty, a smaller version of myself at the same age, had a sweet innocent air and wouldn't have even contemplated how lewd her stance looked to a casual observer. Strangely, that tingly feeling reappeared as I gazed at her defined clit.

Looking up from reading her newsfeed on her phone, Kirsty said, "Hey, Mom. How did your hypnotherapy appointment go?"

"Well, I haven't had a smoke since then," I kidded.

Laughing, Kirsty stood and crossed to me. Kissing my cheek, her firm, young, braless breasts pushing against mine, causing that tingly feeling to intensify and settle higher than 'between my legs', she said, "I hope it works, Mom. Smoking is like the worst thing you can do, and I know Dad hates it, so you must stop."

"I know, baby," I replied, hoping she couldn't smell my arousal. "I'm giving it my best shot to quit this time, okay?"

Smiling happily, my daughter, innocently hugging me, cupped my ass over my dress and smiled before saying, "No panties? You slut!"

I moaned. Dammit, I couldn't help it! When my gorgeous daughter held my ass cheeks and said, 'slut', my arousal peaked, and I came! Wtf is wrong with me?

Looking at me wonderingly, Kirsty sniffed before disbelievingly asking, "Mom? Did you just have an orgasm when I said 'slut'?"

Trembling as I tried to prevent myself from climaxing again, I tried to remain calm as I sternly replied, "What? Kirsty! What kind of thing is that to ask your mom?"

"Never mind," Kirsty mumbled, forced into the daughter role by my stern response. "Sorry."

I didn't want my daughter upset with me because she'd correctly identified my response and I couldn't deal with it, so I cupped her curvy ass, squeezed it, and said, "At least one of us has panties on."

"Yeah, Mom," Kirsty teased back. "Only one slut allowed in the house at a time."

Even though I bit my lip, my moan was unmistakable. Eyes widening, Kirsty was about to say something, but I quickly shook my head and mumbled, "Leg cramp from too much exercise this morning. Now, my little tart, go put some pants and a top on before Johnny comes home. You don't want him to see you dressed like this."

Reluctantly letting her questions die, my daughter sashayed up the stairs, heading for her room. Following so I could change into something less revealing, I couldn't help from watching Kirsty's ass as she swayed up the stairs, that 'faint tingling between my thighs', now a raging furnace, settled on my pussy.

Barely getting to my bedroom without cumming, I dropped my dress to the floor, leapt on the bed, and thrust two fingers into my gushing pussy as my thumb found my button. I badly wanted to orgasm to images of my husband, or at least Patrick, but the twin thoughts I kept having were of kneeling before my son and daughter. Johnny, with his sweatpants pulled below his balls and his thick, precum leaking cock held in his hand, pointed at me, and my daughter dressed in what she wore when I came home, holding a handful of my hair as she pulled her panty's gusset aside and forced my mouth onto her soaking slit.

Stifling my orgasm screams, I came many times as I lay thrashing on my bed, images of my children's genitals pressed into my mouth, playing salaciously through my fevered mind. Coming down from my final climax, I thought, 'That therapist did something to me. Best, Katie-girl, you stay away from that clinic and find another way to quit smoking.' However, even as that thought passed through my mind, I felt it curl up and die. Replaced with Edgar's cultured voice saying, "You need what I offer, Katie. I will set you free, and not only from your nicotine addiction. You will return, as you must return."

In a trance, my eyes staring blankly as my fingers absently thrust in and out of my pussy, I answered, "Yes, Sir."

There was a loud knock on my door, and Johnny banged through it, holding his brand-new Nikon D780 DLSR camera. His face flushed happily, Johnny gushed, "Hey, Mom. The new memory card for my..." His voice ground to a halt, and a whole new reason to blush first whitened, then flushed his face. Staring at my luscious, exposed form, my son ventured, "Mom? What are you... Never mind. Sorry!"

Johnny's hand found his groin again as he slowly backed out of my room, his eyes glued to where my fingers continued to pump into my dripping pussy. As soon as the door shut, my eyes rolled back and the loudest orgasm I ever remember having crashed over me, causing me to pull my pillow over my face to muffle the sound.

Staggering to the en suite, I wet a cloth and washed my messy pussy clean, studiously avoiding looking at my reflection. Eventually, pussy clean, I leaned on my hands and stared miserably into my image's eyes. Katie, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now? Masturbating to images of your naked children? Fantasies of having oral sex with them? Continuing to pleasure yourself as your son watched? What the fuck is the matter with you?" Of course, my reflection didn't answer. But I knew Mister Edgar Fontaine, Hypnotherapist, had planted a post-hypnotic suggestion in my subconscious, and my body responded to it despite my conscious mind's revulsion.

But as I stared, that realisation floated away on so many ephemeral wings, and I rejoiced that I hadn't felt even one pang for a cigarette and felt grateful to Mister Fontaine, with my lower parts feeling warm and squishy now I thought positively about him.

Realising I'd have to confront my son and deal with my embarrassment, I dressed conservatively in a loose sweatsuit and made my way downstairs, barely noticing I hadn't put panties or a bra on. Johnny sat at our breakfast bar, looking through the photos he'd taken.

Hearing me, he looked up and smiled, "Hey, Mom," He said, his handsome face melting my heart.

His eyes fell to my gently bouncing breasts, and I realised I was purposefully strutting so they'd jiggle for him. Embarrassed but trying not to show it, I tousled his long black hair and whispered, "Sorry about earlier. I was missing your father." We both knew I lied, but Johnny was gracious enough to accept my excuse. "What did you want to tell me?" I asked.

Blushing redder than I was, Johnny replied, "It was my fault, Mom. That's twice now that I've bowled into your room without waiting for you to invite me and caught you..." Johnny's voice faded to an embarrassed titter.

Unable to meet my son's eyes, I mumbled, "If I don't want you kids to enter, I need to start locking my door."

"You're hot naked, Mom," Johnny mumbled back as his cock stretched and rose in his pants. "Well, you're hot always, but you're really hot when you're naked."

'Katie, you're flirting with your son again,' my guilty conscience told me. Looking down, I realised that I was. My right hand rested on my son's thigh, close to his swelling erection, as my hard nipples brushed against his upper arm. Nonchalantly moving further away, I smiled gratefully and said, "Thank you, Johnny. It's nice to know someone still appreciates this old broad." As I regretfully removed my hand from his thigh (what I really wanted to do was take his cock in my hand), I repeated, "What did you come into my room to tell me?"

"Aww, Mom," My son said sweetly. "You're not that old, and lots of guys appreciate your looks and figure. All my teammates agree you're the hottest Mom in the place."

"You're a terrible liar, my son," I admonished him as I softly touched his cheek with my fingertip before remembering that was another flirtatious move. "But I like your lies. Now, what was so urgent that you banged into my room for?"

Blushing as he remembered what he saw, Johnny answered, "The new expanded memory card for my camera arrived today. I hoped you'd let me take your photo a few hundred times and perhaps video you to see how much extra space I have."

"You don't need me to do that, surely?" I pointed out. "Anyone would do."

Embarrassedly looking at his feet, Johnny muttered, "I want to be a professional photographer if my footy career doesn't pan out, Mom. So I need someone I can pose to practise on. I don't want just anyone to see them in case the photos are shit. Would you help me, please?"

Well, that seemed harmless, and Kirsty had said she was staying at a friend's for the night, so there was only him and me at home. Therefore no one would see my embarrassment at being posed, so I said, "Sure. Why not? Do you want to start now? Is how I'm dressed okay?"

Johnny shook his head, his face blushing even redder, and said, "Can I show you where, Mom?"

"As long as it's not outside, it's okay, Johnny. Wherever you need me, okay?"

Shaking his head, Johnny insisted I follow him into the garage. He opened the door, and I saw he'd moved two of the cars out of the way, then set his motorbike on a fixed stand so it was stable, then created a beach set around it, complete with studio lights, sand, buckets, a beach umbrella and an inflatable plastic ball.

"Wow!" I acknowledged. "Very artistic, but, Johnny, you'd better ensure this is all gone by Friday when your dad gets home because he'll freak, right?"

"It's all good, Mom," Johnny reassured me. "The sand's on a tarp, so me and the other members of our photography group will pull the corners in, keeping the sand in the middle, then toss it in the back of Sam's ute."

"Okay, where do you want me?"

"Kicking his foot back and forth, Johnny shyly said, "Mom, it's a beach scene. Do you think you could wear your bikini?"

I blinked but thought, 'Katie, your son has seen you in a bikini many times, so why are you concerned now?' so I replied, "Umm, okay. I'll go and change."

Almost inaudibly, his face flaming, but his thick cock straining against the front of his shorts, my son whispered, "The tiny, white, string one, Mom, please. The one you bought to wear for Dad when he took you to Tahiti."

I couldn't. Well, I could, but I shouldn't. The fact that thinking about photographing me dressed in that item had my son sexually excited told me it would be wrong. But that old familiar tingle was settling into a greater warmth a little higher again, so, with a tentative smile, I stuttered, "T-Johnny, are y-you s-s-s-sure that's a good idea? I was only thirty when I wore that for your father."

"You're in better shape now than you were then, Mom," My son answered, suddenly confident because he knew I'd do it.

"I'll do it," I acceded. "But, Johnny, I..." embarrassment poured over me again, and I strangled out, "I need to, umm, remove, umm,... you know." I finished lamely.

"Oh!" Johnny gasped, understanding what I meant. "Yes, that's a good idea. Embarrassing, otherwise. I'll wait for you out here, Mom. I'll take a few pictures of various things and try to get the light settings right."

I returned to my en suite and wet my pussy with a face cloth, then squirting a lavish amount of Sean's shaving foam onto my hands, I spread it over my pubic area, pussy lips, and along my perineum, then, as my fingers touched my hairy little starfish, I shrugged and thought, 'Yup. May as well clean that up, too'. So I added some foam there, too.

Shaving carefully, I removed all the hair from my panty area. The first time I had done that since returning from Tahiti. When I completed the task, I bent over to try and see if I'd missed anything. Of course, I couldn't see my little ring, and I worried it would look silly if it still had hair when the rest of me was clean-shaven, so I found my hand mirror, squatted, and held it to inspect my ass. I'd never seen my pucker hole before, and I found looking at it quite stimulating, so I wonderingly reached between my legs to touch it.

"Unghh," I grunted as my pussy spasmed at the exoticness of the feeling as it seemed so nastily erotic. Testing, I dipped my index finger into my pussy, to wet it, then rimmed my little starfish again. "Ohhh," I moaned, feeling sexy, nasty, and oh so horny!

Of course, that's precisely when Kirsty banged on the door and stormed in, swearing about how catty her former (as of the five-minute drive from Alexis' place to ours) best friend was and how so many girls her age were such bitches!

Stumbling to a stop, my daughter's eyes grew wide as she saw what I was doing. "Mom? What on earth are you doing?" She gasped, then covered her mouth, shocked.

Lawd, I must have looked a sight! Squatting, my generous bosom squeezed between my lasciviously spread thighs, a mirror held in one hand and the index finger of my other exploring my tiny brown ring.

Mortified, I huffed, "If you damned kids would stop barging through my door before I tell you to enter, you'd stop catching me in compromising positions!" Then I exhaled, "Ohhh, nooo!" Realising I'd just admitted that her brother had caught me similarly exposed.

Helping me to stand, Kirsty asked, "What's gotten over you, Mom? You're acting strange!"

I tried to tell my daughter that I thought the therapist had planted something in my subconscious. But as I formed the words, they burst into those pretty ephemeral wings and flew away again, replaced by a flash of me groaning with pleasure as Liz's overly large melons pressed against my upper thighs as she suckled on my naked breasts. That 'little tingle' was now a raging furnace in my wet pussy. As I stood, my hardened nipples brushed across my daughter's, and an unbidden moan escaped my lips.

Kirsty looked hungrily at my mouth, and I shivered with anticipation mixed with fear thinking she would kiss me. After a long moment, she thought better of it, let go of my upper arms and said, "So, Mom, what were you doing?"

Trying for haughty, I gave my daughter what I hoped was a withering stare and lied, "If you must know, I was preparing myself to wear my white string bikini as a treat for your father when he comes home next Friday."

"Okay, Mom," Kirsty said doubtfully. "But that's ten days away, so you'd need to do it again before Dad is home. Otherwise, the whole area will be stubble and horrible to touch."

Still trying to be haughty, I tried, "And you know this, how?"

Unselfconsciously, Kirsty lifted her short skirt and pulled the front of her bikini brief down. "Everyone goes hairless these days, Mom," she told me. "I wax mine every two weeks to ensure I remain as smooth as a baby's botty down there. If you'd asked, I would have done it for you."

"I did not know that, Kirsty," I said. Staring at her thick clitoris and trying hard not to bite my bottom lip as the tingles began again.

Kirsty let go of her panties and let her skirt drop. I barely stopped a disappointed groan that I couldn't see her exposed clit any more. Trying to get a grip, I internally growled at myself, 'Katie, Katie, Katie! Stop this crap! You're not a lesbian, so why are you lusting over your daughter?'

Suddenly, my daughter's brow furrowed, "Okay, Mom," she said. "If you were checking to ensure you'd got all the hair around and on your pussy, why were you playing with your ass?"

"I wasn't!" I defended. "Just checking that I'd cleaned the hair off there, too."

"Hmm," Kirsty hummed before delivering the knockout blow. "Then why has Johnny set up a beach set in the garage? It looks like you are preparing to model for him, Mom. Are you?"

'Katie, Katie, Katie,' I exasperatedly chided myself. 'You shouldn't tell lies because you suck at them!' Ashamed at my subterfuge, I nodded and replied, "Yes."

Brightening into a broad smile, my daughter said, "Well, why didn't you just say so? You're a hot mommie, Mommie, so you should pose for pictures. May I pose with you? Oh, please say yes. It'll be so much fun!"