The Art of War Pt. 01

"Christ, how much did she drink?" he thought to himself, wondering how many Banana Daiquiris it took to get as smashed as she was, and gave up counting at six.

"Fuck me, she drank at least six of those horrible fucking things; no wonder she's yarking!" he wondered to himself, "I never knew the old girl was such a piss-artist!"

Behind the cloakroom door, Carol grinned happily. Operation Trouser-Snake Phase One complete; now to mess with his head, big-style...

After flushing a couple of times, then running both taps to add to the illusion that she was freshening-up, she braced her shoulders, tweaked her nipples a couple of times to make them stand-out, then pulled the door open and once more went into her act, weaving a little as she stumbled out of the cloakroom. Ollie was waiting for her, and tried to help her upstairs, but Carol, acting the wilful drunk, insisted they go into the sitting room; she wanted some coffee.

Once there, Ollie parked her on the sofa while he went off to make some black coffee. As soon as he left the room, Carol quickly tugged the neckline of her dress a little lower, hitched the hem up a little higher, and, on a sudden whim, whipped her panties off and shoved them behind a cushion. Then she slumped back with a slightly bleary smile on her face, once more drunk and nearly incapacitated, as Ollie edged the door open, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand.

"There you go, Mum, drink up!" he ordered. "There's more where that came from, drink it all, you'll feel better for it!"

"Feel fine now, Ollie, want another drinkie, those b'nana things, go get me one, Ollie-Wollie, now!" she slurred petulantly.

Ollie grinned, and waved the mug of coffee at her.

"No more booze, Mum; I think you need a nice big cup of coffee, then a nice little lie-down, ok? Now drink up; don't let it get cold!"

"Okay, coffee, an' pusss some music on, isss soo quiet here, dere's a good littew Owwie-Wowwie!" she baby-talked, her eyes crossing as she tried to focus on him. Ollie hid his grin; never had he seen Carol so paralytic; fuck, he'd never seen her so much as finish a lager shandy on a hot day. What the hell was she thinking of, hammering them away like that?

He switched on the elegant Bang & Olufsen stereo and hit the play button on the CD. Astrud Gilberto's husky, sexy voice oozed gently out of the speakers. Carol's head snapped up as 'Call me' played. She put her coffee down with all the deliberation and meticulous precision of the truly shit-faced.

"Oh Olleee, you sssweet baby, I love thisss sssong!" she giggled. "Help me up; I wanna dance!"

Ollie debated whether or not to help her; she was smashed and unsteady; lying down was what she needed, not dancing.

"Later, Mum. Finish your coffee, then we'll see..." he began, but, once again, Carol played the single-minded, wilful drunk.

"NO, now, help me up, I wanna dance NOW!"

Ollie shrugged, and helped her up; if she passed-out, she weighed next to nothing; at least he could carry her upstairs with no problems and dump her in her room. With a bucket next to her, just in case...

He held her at arm's-length, waiting for her to either pass-out or start throwing-up again. Carol, however, had other plans, and suddenly she was plastered against him, undulating gently to the gentle samba rhythm. To say he was uncomfortable would be to put it mildly; Carol was wearing a figure-hugging mini-dress, and she was wrapped tightly around him, pressed against areas he really didn't want to start pressing against his mother, at least not just yet...

As the music played, Carol rubbed more and harder against him. He realised to his dismay that he was getting an erection. Obviously his mother could feel it, and then, Oh Hell, her arms slid down his waist and her hands clamped around his buttocks! Ollie froze and Carol undulated against him even more definitely, squeezing him as she rubbed against him, flaying his erection with her body.

"Mmmm, little Ollie-boy's not so little anymore!" she purred, grinding herself against his burgeoning hard-on while Ollie stared over her shoulder in shock.

"Mum, please...what are you...?" he gasped and Carol squeezed his backside even harder as she nuzzled his chest.

"Doing what you want to, Ollie-pollie! I know what you want, and, lucky you, I want it too, so grab hold, baby-boy, this is where it gets interesting!"

Ollie stared into her eyes, realising suddenly that she wasn't drunk at all, that this had been a set-up from the outset. Carol looked back into his eyes, then bit her lip as she grinned, slowly sliding his motionless hands down so they were clutching her bottom in turn. Ollie gulped. His heart lurched when he realised he couldn't feel her panty-line; holy shit, she was naked under her short dress...

"There you go, that's what you've wanted to do all along, so help yourself, Ollie my darling, there's more where that came from!" she murmured. Almost mesmerised, Ollie began squeezing and massaging the taut cheeks as she ground against him. Suddenly he froze again, his hands falling away from her as he looked at her in confusion.

"Mum, what are you doing, we can't...this is wrong...!" he gabbled, unable to believe she was trying to make him do what he'd schemed and planned with Izzy.

Carol responded by sliding one hand between them and cupping his balls before squeezing his solid, unrelenting erection.

"This thing says otherwise, Ollie-baby, and you can stop calling me 'Mum'; my name's Carol; now take me to my room and fuck me rigid!"

Ollie stared at her in amazed, open-mouthed confusion; did she really just say that? Carol, obviously reading his mind, grinned minxily at him.

"That's right, Ollie-pollie, you heard right; I want a good, hard seeing-to, and I know you want to shove that big boner in me; I've known for ages! Come on, Big Boy, time to make Mummy very happy!"

With that, she took hold of his hand; Ollie, too dazed to resist, let her lead him from the room.

*

Izzy watched her mother grope and fondle Ollie (HER Ollie, that bitch...!) through the cracked-open dining room door, jealousy and black rage warring inside her; for all she'd planned this, set it up, and given him the go-ahead, now it was happening, Izzy wanted nothing more in the world than for it to stop, and for Ollie to reject his mother, push her away, and come to her for what he was so obviously ready for; to watch her mother lead Ollie upstairs was almost more than she could stand. Once again, complicated schemes for revenge rushed and tumbled through her head. Seduce her Ollie, would she? She was going to show Carol exactly what happened to blowsy old tarts who came between her and her man; the fact Ollie was her big brother had somehow become meaningless now; now he was her man, and another woman was going to be all over him. Izzy burned with jealousy at the thought.

Meanwhile, Ollie, in a state of horny bewilderment, let Carol lead him upstairs, his eyes tracking the sway and roll of her shapely buttocks in front of him as she climbed the stairs; she could feel his gaze on her, like two points of heat, so she exaggerated her hip movements to make sure her buttocks gave a little extra bob and quiver in front of his transfixed gaze.

For Ollie, it was all the more enticing knowing there was absolutely nothing under that clingy little dress, but even with that, he was beginning to regret this whole thing; Carol had never really come down on him, never made him angry enough to want to punish her, or get his revenge, and now he'd let Izzy back him into this corner, and on top of it all, Carol had made it crystal clear what she wanted her son to do with her.

Horny and conflicted, that old adage about being careful what you wished for running through his head, all he could do was follow her up the stairs, his eyes tracking every quiver and ripple of her perfect bottom like twin lasers.

In her bedroom, Carol once again draped herself over him.

"Now there's Mummy's little soldier!" she purred, laughing inside at the corny line and its effect on Ollie; his eyes widened as the full and final realisation of what he was going to do hit him; he was going to fuck his mother, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, not with said mother grinding her crotch against him for all she was worth. Much against his will, he was responding to it, something Carol gleefully noted, redoubling her efforts and watching as his eyeballs made a spirited attempt to pop from their sockets and roll down his cheeks.

Carol kept up the pressure; her hands once more stroked and fondled him while Ollie's throat clicked as he swallowed dryly, desperately willing Carol to have a sudden fainting spell so he could get the fuck out of there and go hide in his room with a chair wedged under the doorknob.

"Come on Ollie-boy, show willing!" purred Carol, "I know what you and Izzy were planning, both of you rubbing your bits together while you made your sneaky little plan to get me all naked and gagging for a shagging; guess what? I'm up for it, now's your chance, Ollie, so get that big ole thing out, honey-chile, momma wants to play!"

Ollie swallowed with yet another audible clicking sound. Carol may have been his mother, but right now that wasn't really cutting any ice; all he could focus on was the feel of her tight body as she rubbed against him like a cat in heat, and parts of him were already responding, something Carol noted right away.

"Ollie, you bad, bad boy; for shame, I'm your mother!" she chided, thrusting her mound against him; in his heated state, Ollie could have sworn he'd felt his ridged, bursting cock slide through the furrow of her suddenly obvious camel-toe. A trickle of sweat ran down his back and itched between his shoulder-blades.

Carol grinned cattily and backed away, giving him a momentary reprieve, then slipped her arms up behind her. Ollie gulped as he realised she was unzipping; this was really happening, this was what he and Izzy had planned, this was what he'd fantasized about for months, and now it was actually going to happen. Fuck, this was weird, and hot, and horny, and really fucking scary!

Carol smiled as she worked first one arm and then the other out of the dress. She stopped, looking at him calmly while she held her dress against her breasts. Even in his current state of horny terror, Ollie had to admit the picture she made would have had a corpse jumping up and down and jerking off frenziedly, her huge, liquid brown eyes looking up at him from under a large curl that had somehow fallen across her eyes; in the subdued light she looked young, fresh, alluring, and, much as he didn't want to admit it, immensely fuckable.

"What are you waiting for, Ollie?" she husked, then smiled, a slow, alluring smile.

"Oh, you mean this?" she grinned, cupping her breasts inside the material of her dress. "Soon cured, baby-boy; read 'em and weep!"

With that, she let go of the dress, and Ollie watched in fascinated arousal as the soft, clingy material slithered to the floor and pooled around her feet, revealing Carol Bartlett, his mother, in all her gorgeous, horny, naked glory. Ollie's eyes threatened to jump out of his face; Carol's body was incredible, all the detail imagined in a thousand fevered fantasies now there for him to see, and it was worth every heated second of those fantasies; her breasts were all he'd dreamed off, full, firm, protruding, with no sag or stretch he could see; who'd have thought a woman who had to be pushing 40, with two children as old as he and Izzy were, could have a set like that, and nipples like those two pointy things; it wasn't possible!

All the other salient points of Carol's body faded into the general picture of perfection; skin like porcelain, smooth and flawless, slim waist rounding down to cat hips, and two perfect labia, the match for Izzy's, just visible in the smoothly-waxed, shadowed space at the juncture of her long, perfect thighs. Ollie could barely tear his gaze away from the sight of his mother in all her naked perfection, until she cleared her throat theatrically.

"Ahem, Ollie, up here, baby, my eyes are up here..."

Ollie's gaze snapped up to her face, torn away from his rapt study of her perfection, but instead of annoyance, she just smiled, then slowly winked the lewdest, most salacious wink he'd ever seen, and he should know; he'd been fending off both Marla and Bridie Devlin and their innuendo-laden ambushes for almost six months now...

The band that had seemed to be steadily tightening around his chest snapped, and with that came the realisation he could do this; she wanted it, he was ready, he'd planned for this with Izzy, he'd wanted it for months, his mother had already indicated there was no guilt-trip waiting to be unloaded on him, he could actually do this, now it really was time to get sweaty...

*

From the top floor of the empty house directly across the road, street lights glinted darkly off the binoculars as Tommy Millsom watched the drama unfolding in Carol's bedroom; Ollie and his mother getting busy was just an interesting non-sequitur, it was blood he wanted, revenge on Ollie for hurting him, and humiliation for Izzy for her causing said pain. His new friend wanted them too, why he didn't say, and Tommy didn't care; what was that old saying? "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" That was good enough for him, and together they were going to destroy the Bartlett family. Putting down the binoculars, Tommy grinned maliciously at his co-conspirator and new best friend as he handed him the field glasses and rolled his eyes at the window across the street.

End of Part 1

Part 2 finds Ollie and Izzy discovering who their mother is, and the identity of Tommy's new best friend