The Adventures of a Slut Mommie Ch. 03

Chapter 3: Back to the Clinic.

Hi readers, Katie Muggleton again. I hope you've been enjoying my adventures so far. Let me remind you how my last adventure ended.

Pretending to discipline my husband for having forbidden incestuous fantasies about our daughter Kristy I tied him to our bed. Unknown to him, I'd invited the object of his fantasies to sneak into our room and watch as I 'punished' her father. Kristy, after slipping into our room, sat on the floor before our bed masturbating as she watched me ride her father's face as he licked my dripping pussy.

Despite being highly aroused by Sean's furious licking, I couldn't quite get over the edge and climax. Seeing my need and knowing my trigger, Kristy mouthed 'slut', and I wailed through an intensely satisfying orgasm.

Part of Sean's punishment for having his forbidden fantasies was to wait until I permitted him to before climaxing. However, I had plans, and they involved Sean allowing some incestuous behaviour between us and our children. Therefore, I'd knelt beside his head and whispered salacious descriptions of our daughter's sexy young body and vividly described his (my) fantasies of what he wanted to do to her.

Unable to control his carnal desires, my husband orgasmed, spitting (he thought) his seed onto the bed below him. I'd encouraged Kristy to lean over her father, however. So three of the first four spurts hit our daughter's face or landed in her open mouth.

After chasing Kristy out of the room, I released my husband, then knelt, expecting him to tan my ass for forcing those images into his imagination. Instead, Sean carried me to the bed and made maddeningly slow love to me. Then, as we neared our peak, he growled that he wanted to continue our incestuous roleplay, and we simultaneously experienced tremendous orgasms.

Readers, now we're caught up with my adventures so far. Let me tell you about my subsequent ones.

The next morning, Sean and I made slow, languorous love again. Over the years of our marriage, our passion for each other, or more specifically, his for me, has waned, and we rarely make love these days. However, it seemed that fantasising about our daughter and knowing that not only did I approve of his fantasies, I encouraged him to enjoy them had my husband's motors revving again.

I'm a very sensual woman with a powerful sex drive. Therefore, I often felt frustrated and edgy due to my husband's waning enthusiasm to make love. I needed to masturbate to orgasm regularly to relieve my aching desires and throbbing clitoris. However, masturbating didn't alleviate my ache the way making love did.

Unfortunately, that meant I was vulnerable to the likes of Edgar Fontaine and Frank Pritchard. Sexily dominant men that know my weakness —command me in a deep baritone voice, and I'll submissively allow you to do as you wish. I can't help it because it's been ingrained into me by many years of physical punishment leading to sexual pleasure.

Growl deeply at me, and I'll become wet. Tower over me as I sit, then demand I touch my breasts or nipples, and I'll bite my bottom lip and wait longingly for you to tell me what else you want me to do. Growl that you want me to kneel before you, and I'll instantly slide off my seat onto my knees and plead with my eyes for you to offer your cock. Snarl for me to touch myself, and one hand will slip inside my typically short skirt as the other slides onto my nipple. Grab my nipple and twist it as you growl what you want, and I'll moan that I will do anything you ask. Then bend me over as you tweak my nipples and smack my ass, and I'll likely orgasm unless told not to. Of course, at that stage, if you want me to fuck or suck you, I willingly will.

Fortunately for me, I gave my virginity to my now husband Sean on the night of my eighteenth birthday, got pregnant from that first experience, and then married him. I never dated much during my school years, and being with Sean means I haven't been exposed to many situations where someone could exploit my submissive nature. If I attended an event or party with my husband and felt someone was trying to command me or was coming on too strongly, I'd immediately find my husband and point them out. He'd take care of the rest.

However, I am a perpetual flirt and love receiving appropriate appreciation for my beautiful face and divine assets. I dress provocatively when and where possible, and even my maxi dresses have long slits or several panels. If I'm standing still when wearing these dresses, they hang gorgeously to the ground from my slim waist and flared hips and reveal little. But, when I walk or sit, they part and expose vast expanses of my shapely calves and thighs. My husband regularly uses my sensual assets to dazzle potential clients and has made many favourable deals after I've bamboozled their tiny minds with my overt charms.

After our eventful Saturday night, Sean and I spent Sunday together. Sean even asked me to accompany him when he went into his office for an hour to work on his latest proposal. He ended up spending two hours there because I, well, shall I say, distracted him. Because he was taking me to lunch when he finished, I'd worn a sexy black cut-out crew neck and sleeveless bodycon tank dress with lace-up sides.

This dress clung to my every curve and exposed vast amounts of my shoulders and side boobs. It ended barely below my sexily rounded ass and swayed with it as I walked. It rode up if I wasn't careful, so I covered my slit with a tiny thong. Of course, I hadn't bothered with a bra because the dress clung seductively to my swelling breasts.

I took advantage of the dress' shortness and flashed my husband my barely covered vagina at every opportunity. As he drove, I ran my fingertips over and around his cock's throbbing glans. When he opened my door, I spread my knees to show him I had pulled my thong aside to reveal my wet pussy. In the elevator up to his eighty-third-floor office, I knelt and took his cock out. I sucked it until we reached his floor, then released it with a loud slurp and tucked it away as the doors opened. My tease culminated when I sat in the guest chair before his oak-panelled desk, lifted my knees and placed my heels on the desk. Then, sliding my thong aside, I began playing with myself.

Looking up when I moaned, Sean was overcome with lust, and he growled, strode swiftly around his desk, pulled me onto my hands and knees, smacked my ass and jammed his cock into my dripping vagina. Reaching around, he forced his hands inside my dress and mauled my breasts as I squealed my orgasm and thrashed my sexy ass back at him.

Teasing me in return, Sean refused to cum. So after he'd made me orgasm, he smacked my bottom again and demanded that I sit. Then Sean grabbed the back of my head and, taking his thick cock in his hand, presented it to my sexily pouting, lipstick-covered lips. He growled, "Katie, I'm jamming this down your throat as far as possible. I swear, if you even think of choking, I'll remove my belt and wallop your curvy ass until it's black and blue."

The reality is that my husband has never hit me other than on my bottom with anything more than his hand to correct me ever. Because I enjoy it, as part of our sex play, he occasionally uses a thick, padded leather paddle to light up my rear. But that is as far as he has ever gone. Therefore, his threat to 'wallop my curvy ass' with his belt was an empty one. Nevertheless, I nodded my agreement, circled my lips into an 'O', and opened wide, ready for him to shove his cock in.

Holding my head and jaw tightly, Sean shoved forwards hard. When he rammed his cock in, his abdomen hit my lips and mashed them against my teeth. Almost climaxing from the dominant way he took ownership of my mouth, I moaned around his pumping cock as I slurped, sucked and swirled until he groaned and ejaculated down my throat.

Not finished there, my husband demanded that I work him until he stiffened again. Repeating his earlier effort, he rammed his cock back into my mouth. This time, however, when he climaxed, he pulled out and came on my face. Sean loomed over me after climaxing, sternly looking down until he sensed my urgent need. Then even with his cum sliding slowly down my face, he bent over and kissed my lips lightly as he slid his hand between my parted thighs. Placing his thumb on my enlarged clit, he dipped two fingers into my pussy and curled them back. Finding my G-spot, he tickled it with his manicured nail before growling, "Cum for me, my little Katie slut." Howling, I bounced and shuddered as the orgasm he ignited blasted me apart.

Aeons later, when I finally came down, Sean sat at his computer, intently watching the screen as his fingers flew over his keyboard. Knowing any further attempts to 'distract' him would anger him instead, I got up quietly and used his executive bathroom to clean up in. Looking at myself in the mirror, I cleaned his semen from my face, then carefully inspected my chin, neck and décolletage to ensure I hadn't left any evidence of Sean's orgasm.

After reapplying my makeup and brushing my hair (cleaning a splodge I'd missed first), I walked to the reception area and sat on one of the couches and idly played games on my phone until my husband was ready to eat. "Ready?" Sean asked almost an hour later. "For you, baby?" I teasingly answered as I spread my thighs and showed my wet slit. "Always!"

Sean helped me to my feet, linked his elbow with mine and escorted me to the elevator. On the way down, I teased, "Want me to go down as we go down?"

"Katie," my husband grinned. "I swear you're hornier now than you were when we were teenagers and first met."

Unable to tell him why, I answered, "It's the whole body clock thing, Sean. My innards are telling me that if I'm going to have more babies, I need to get on with it."

Raising an eyebrow, Sean asked, "You don't want any more, though, Katie. Do you?"

A few years ago, before our children were teenagers, I would have said yes. But now I thought I was too old for children. Women who become first-time mothers in their mid to late thirties have my utmost awe and admiration. However, I wonder how these women will cope when they're over fifty and their children become teenagers. Don't get me wrong. Johnny and Kristy are model teenage kids, causing little to no real angst, but teenagers are exhausting. Always on the go, they eat you out of hearth and home. As they reach puberty and their hormones begin rushing through their changing bodies, their mood swings can be violent and extreme.

In her early teens, our daughter Kristy would be laughing and bouncing off the ceiling, filled with pure joy one minute. Then seconds later, she'd be weeping into her pillow because of some imagined slight someone had given her. Johnny was marginally better but was often moody and irritable. Unfortunately for our family, Sean's career took off when the kids were that age. And as he accepted promotions and more senior positions, he was often absent for extended periods, leaving me to raise our kids through that time virtually alone.

As I said in an earlier episode, that's the price you pay to be married to a rich, successful man, so it never occurred to me to complain or object. My mother was my saviour for a lot of that time as she'd often turn up unannounced and do my laundry, clean the house, or any of the other mundane tasks that I struggled to keep up with as my kids ran me ragged. Of course, she'd always want to make love when she'd finished her task, and that kept my sometimes raging sexual needs from getting me into trouble.

The above thoughts took less than seconds to waft through my mind before I giggled and answered, "Heck no!"

When we hit the lobby, Sean briefly cupped my ass before sliding his hand around my hips and hugging me to him. Then, with our hips glued together, we walked around the corner to Daniel's Steak House and had lunch.

Monday passed without incident, and Tuesday saw me bidding my husband goodbye as he caught a plane to London. He'd be gone close to a month (His schedule had altered from earlier because his associate had come down sick, and Sean needed to do everything himself.) this time, and I worried about what he'd return to. I hadn't heard anything from Frank, but the thought of what he might do with the compromising pictures he'd taken, played heavily on my mind. Of course, that I was no longer faithful to my husband played even more heavily than the thought of Frank posting my pictures.

Although I felt guilty about letting Johnny have me twice, that seemed insignificant to allowing Frank to take me. I believed that now our children had reached their maturity that, as my family of origin was, our family would be a loving one. Therefore, although I still feared breaking the incest taboo, I feared having broken my marriage vows more.

The house phone was blaring its insistent ring when I got home. Picking it up, I said, "Muggleton residence, Katie speaking."

"Hello, Katie," Frank's oily voice came. "I've been masturbating thinking about fucking your pretty cunt, Katie. Have you been thinking about me?"

"Of course," I wanted to scream, "I've been thinking about you and wanting to puke!" But my jaw wouldn't release, so I remained silent.

Ignoring my silent response, Frank continued, "You know, Katie? I've wondered what to do with these salacious, disgusting photos of you I have, but I can't quite figure it out. Do I take advantage of PornHub's offer to buy pornographic, amateur photos, or do I take pity on my friend's slutty mother and delete them?

Struggling to contain an orgasm, I bit my lip and kept quiet.

"I'll tell you what, Katie," Frank sneered. "Keep Friday night clear. If you meet me and do precisely as I want, I'll delete these photos and promise never to take similar ones."

Finally breaking the paroxysm in my chest, I gasped for breath, then asked, "What will you want me to do?" However, I knew Frank was probably lying and trying to manoeuvre me into a position where he could add compromising pictures, not delete them.

"Nuh-ahh, Katie," Frank chuckled. "First, you agree to meet me on Friday so I don't release your pictures now. Then, on Friday evening, I text you with instructions on when and where we're to meet me, and you go there."

Not thinking I had any other choice, I agreed to meet Frank where and when he wanted to on Friday.

"Good slut," Frank crooned. "But don't worry, Katie, come Friday, I'll ensure your slutty ass has lots and lots of fun and give you ample opportunity to show your slutty side."

Thankfully, Frank ended the call, and I could slide down the wall and finger myself to a satisfying orgasm.

My kids were home Tuesday afternoon, so we had an enjoyable interlude joking and teasing and generally cutting up as we spent time together. As the day ended, I tray-baked lamb chops in lemon and thyme before adding a garden salad and mashed potatoes. After I poured some Bordeaux wine into three glasses, we sat around our kitchen table, chatting and laughing as we ate dinner.

When dinner ended, Johnny said he needed to head into his club to do a weights and stretching session, and Kristy announced she had a project that needed work. That left me alone, with only my thoughts for company. Feeling agitated and apprehensive about returning to the clinic, I opened the chamomile tea box and took out the cigarette I'd partially smoked.

Lighting it up, I dragged heavily on it. Holding the warm smoke in my lungs, I waited until I had to breathe or cough it out. Then, after blowing the smoke into the air, I drew on the cigarette until it burned to the filter. The effect was the same as last time. After two drags, the tension that I constantly felt ebbed, and I could relax. Feeling tired, I opened the window, sprayed air freshener, then went to my room.

Stripping, I dumped my clothes into the hamper and showered. Finished, I wrapped a towel around my head and vigorously dried my hair. Unfortunately, my hair is long and thick, and I would need to spend time blow-drying it so it didn't become a knotted, frizzy mess by morning. Satisfied that my hair was as dry as towelling it could make it, I stepped back inside the en suite and hung the towel on the rails.

Only then, did I realise that Kristy sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed. Seeing that I'd finally noticed her, she grinned and said, "Nice view, Mom. Boy, do your breasts bounce sexily when you dry your hair."

Leaning over to kiss her cheek, I asked, "What are you doing in here, Missy?"

Wrinkling her nose at my cigarette breath, Kristy replied. "Watching your titties bounce as I wait for you, of course.

Pretending to growl, I said, "You're not so old that I can't spank you, you know?" Then tried to kiss her cheek again.

"Eww, seriously, Mom," Kristy whinged, pushing my face away. "You have ashtray breath. I thought you'd quit smoking after seeing that hypnotist?"

"Hypnotherapist," I absently replied as I staved off another flicker: image episode.

Regaining control, I walked into the en suite, brushed my teeth, and gargled with mouthwash before returning to the bed. Climbing up, I mimicked my daughter by sitting cross-legged facing her and then asked what she wanted.

Frowning, Kristy muttered, "Hang on," then stepped off my bed and stripped before climbing back on. "That's better," she stated. "Now we're the same."

Wondering what she wanted, I still took the time to admire her sensual, curvy body and longed to touch her breasts and play with her nipples. Forcing myself to keep my eyes on Kristy's face, I waited to see why she'd come to see me.

False starting twice, Kristy eventually said, "About the other night?

"The night when you tasted your father's semen?" I teased.

"Yeah. What was with that?"

"Inviting you to watch as I played with your father?" Kristy nodded. "Were you objecting?" She shook her head. "Did his semen hitting your face upset you?" Shake. "Was it that his semen entered your mouth?" Shake. "Did you like it and want more?" Nod. "Do you want your father to be your first lover?" Embarrassed nod. "You're afraid you'll get pregnant despite being on the pill, right?" Nod. "Wouldn't being made pregnant by your father be worse?" Embarrassed nod. "What do you want, then?"

Blushing, Kristy raised her head and said, "I want your permission and then help to seduce Dad."

Thrilled because I wanted to continue being intimate with my son but unwilling to admit that yet, I replied, "You're asking for too much, Kristy." Her face fell. "I didn't say no," I reassured her. Beaming smile. Suppressing a grin, I added, "I didn't say yes, either." Fading smile. "I'm making no promises now, but I'll think about it, okay?" Unsure, partial smile.

After the exchange described above, I stared at my gorgeous daughter and wondered how she'd react if I kissed her passionately. Then thinking, 'Fuck it!' I leaned forward and cupped her sexily mounded, bare breasts before locking my lips to hers and kissing her.

Kristy started with surprise as my hands found her breasts, but she willingly locked lips with me, so I sent my tongue out and brushed it against her lush lips, asking for entry. With a soft moan into my mouth, Kristy's lips parted, and our tongues met in that age-old dance of desire and passion.

Feeling her nipples harden in my hands, I circled them with my thumbs as I gently squeezed and kneaded her luscious mounds. Leaning forward to kiss her while sitting cross-legged was uncomfortable, so I shifted onto my knees. Then cupping the back of Kristy's head, I pushed my shoulders against hers and lowered her onto her back.