The Sweetest Sin Pt. 03

"We didn't mean any harm. I hope you liked the show."

His face, which hadn't changed during the entire performance, broke into a lop-sided, gap-toothed grim. "Thanks for cumming," he said. "I haven't seen a sight like that for quite a while. You've got a fine young boy there. Knows how to treat a woman. Yes, ma'am, he's a credit to you. You raised him well," and he winked.

Damn. He wasn't as deaf as I'd hoped.

He ran his tongue over his lips and added: "I wonder, before you go...?"

"Of course." I scooted forward and opened my legs wide, giving him a good long look right up me. I pulled up my T-shirt again and let his eyes feast.

Eventually I heard Jack say: "Thanks, we'll be off now."

I closed my legs, put my bosoms away and smiled goodbye.

My sticky cunt clinging to the hot leather seat, we drove inland on the homeward leg of our journey.

"Probably best if we don't do that one again," Jack said. "It was dangerous, but it's something I've been thinking about, and I wanted to give us a memory."

"Ah Jack, darling, you give me memories every day."

"Well, like the saying goes, try anything once."

"You know how that quote ends, don't you?" I replied. "Try anything once except folk dancing and incest."

"Whew! Folk dancing! Is that even legal?"

"I just hope your five-fingered folk dance didn't traumatize the poor gentleman."

"Are you kidding? That old timer is probably on his knees right know, giving thanks and licking your chair clean."

Jack was right: it was an amazing memory to have, and I would run it over in my mind many times. Maybe we could try it again, but the circumstances would have to be exactly right. It was risky - much riskier than for other couples, because getting caught wouldn't just mean a court appearance, it would bring down our world.

It was another uneventful night at an anonymous hotel. Jack was still a bit stiff in all the wrong places, but we had a great time with me on top, doing all the work, then fucking his face to finish off the evening.

Next day was a chain day. Jack clipped it to me before we drove off. I don't know what it was that made this a chain day, but I will be forever grateful.

"You really don't know how good you look," he said as he drove.

"Eyes on the road. What are you talking about?"

"I mean it. Just look at you."

! glanced down, and for the first time I saw my body as he was seeing it. The seatbelt cut a valley across my chest, and my huge braless breasts strained against my thin T-shirt, the nipples so prominent that you could see the bumps on my areole. They shuddered with every jolt of the road. I shifted my chain a little so that it was on my clit, and continued enjoying Jack's attention.

"You really do like them, don't you," I said.

"Oh, Mom, if you only knew. I love them. They're amazing. I could look at them for hours."

"That's very flattering, darling, but for the moment I'd prefer if you looked at the road."

"Sure. I want to get those wonder boobs home safe."

We pulled in at the beach we had found on the first day and paddled in the surf. It was an idylic setting in which to ask an ugly question that had been preying on my mind.

"Jack, can I ask what you think about our relationship? Is it really a sin?"

"Gosh, that's a heavy topic on a day like this." He was silent for a long time, then he said: "We're making each other happy and not harming anyone - how can that be bad."

I said: "I looked it up. 'The nakedness of thy mother shalt thou not uncover: she is thy mother; thou shalt not uncover her nakedness'. But you didn't uncover my nakedness - I did that. Modern versions say do not have sex with your mother because you are dishonoring your father. But we haven't been married for six years, he lives in another state and he doesn't know about us. How is that dishonoring him? We haven't made him our cuckold. It's not as if we're forcing him watch, limp and humiliated, while his young stallion of a son bestrides his wife and finishes the job he wasn't up to."

That was unkind. Doug had never had "problems". He just didn't have a high sex drive or a great work ethic in the sack. Never mind finishing the job, he rarely started it. Jack, to his credit, had never asked: "Am I bigger than Dad? Am I better, Mom? Do I satisfy you in ways he couldn't?" To be fair, he didn't need to ask.

Jack was thinking. "That's Leviticus, right?" he said. "The Hebrew Bible. Does that mean it only applies to Jews?"

"Well, there's lots in there about ritual purity and animal sacrifices and diet that isn't relevant to us." I smiled. "We had you circumcised - isn't that enough?" Little did I image that, 19 years on, I would be sucking and fucking my baby's beautiful cut tip several times a day.

We walked on a little further in silence, then he said: "I don't know, Mom. How about we follow our conscience and leave the rest up to God."

I kissed him and hugged him. That was good enough for me.

+++

We were two hours from home when we parked for a restroom break. Jack opened the door of the bar and I stepped in.

I wonder what would have happened if I had been that frumpy overweight woman, head down, arms crossed over her chest as she scurried to the bathroom.

But of course I was not that woman any more. I had become confident of my body. Proud, even. My boobs were like Jell-O on springs when I entered the room, and I immediately wished I was wearing a bra and a longer skirt, but I had long since stopped apologising to myself and the world for the way I looked.

Anyway, there was nothing I could do to control the movement of my boobs as I left Jack at the bar and crossed the floor. My outfit was minimal, and my breasts could be best described as untethered.

But it's not as if the place had a dress code. Most of the clientele were unshaven and wore cargo shorts and wifebeaters, and not all of them were wearing shoes. And that was just the women!

I could feel every eye on me. The action at the pool table halted. There were several muttered remarks that clearly meant one thing. A wolf whistle and scuzzy, leering laughter.

Now, if a mother hasn't told her son how to treat a woman - any woman, no matter how she is dressed, no matter the signals she seems to be sending - then perhaps his father should have. If not, perhaps his siblings, or his teammates or his buddies. Or maybe he could just realize what century he is in and understand that every woman, no matter how big-bosomed and lightly dressed, has a right to dignity and respect. I was glad when my wonder boobs and I reached the sanctuary of the bathroom.

I sprayed hand sanitiser on the toilet seat - no telling what those skanks had been up to. After a pee, I stared at myself in the mirror. I leaned against the door to stop anyone coming in and on a whim I lifted my T-shirt to look at the chain dangling down my cleavage and between my thighs. I sighed, wished we were home in bed, rearranged the links for maximum stimulation and made myself decent. I hoped that whatever was going on out there had calmed down.

When I emerged, the tension was different. Uglier. Something had happened. Jack appeared at my side, took my arm and walked me toward the door.

A bigger, older man rose and stepped into our path. His friends tried to pull him back: "Come on, Steve, let him alone. He's just a kid."

"No. I want him to answer my question."

Jack moved out of the way and we detoured around another table. But the man moved too.

"Or perhaps if the kid can't tell me, the little lady can," he said.

Jack's voice was level and low: "Leave her alone. I told you, I don't want trouble."

"I'll bet you don't, sonny," the man sneered. "Just stand there, or I'll snap you like a twig. Let the little lady answer. Now, Miss, me and my buddies were wondering..." He held out a fistful of grubby dollars. "I know you don't give it away free, so we're willing to pay what's fair. A dollar each? Five dollars for all three, extra for anal..."

It happened so fast that I didn't have time to flinch. Four blows, two to each side of the body, and the big man was on the floor, writhing and gasping for breath. A rush that I'd never know before hit me like an atomic blast wave.

Here was my son, protecting me, defending my honor. I hate violence, but this -- my man fighting for me -- this sent an animal surge through my body.

I had never been so turned on in my life.

Jack held out his hand to me. I made to walk past him, but he said: "No, this way," indicating that I should step over the man on the floor. Jack knew I had nothing on underneath. The man would be able to ... well, obviously that's what Jack wanted. I hitched up my mini and quickly stepped over the form on the floor, wondering whether he was looking straight up into me, with the chain dividing my cunt lips.

Jack led me into the parking lot. It was darkening now. My clitoris throbbed with every step. I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other, I was so overwhelmed at what I had just seen. Two men fighting over me. One of them my own son. Readying me for action, Jack unclipped my chain at the back and it fell down, dangling between my legs, almost to the ground.

We reached the car. I needed it so badly.

I wanted muscle and stubble. I wanted the thing we are not supposed to want from sex. Something primeval and primitive. Testosterone and sweat. Rough hands and a dick that cares about nothing except its own savage, urgent thrusting. I wanted to wake up with a mouth that tasted like acid, a body covered in bruises and bite marks, a man's sperm leaking out of me.

Jack seized me by the back of the neck, bent me over and roughly pressed my cheek to the car hood under the harsh parking lot light. He pushed my T-shirt up so my boobs were touching the freezing metal. Lifting my mini-skirt, he roughly penetrated me from behind without warning, his entire length, all at once. My eyes watered. It hurt, but in this state, I didn't care. I was aching for him. I just wanted to be fucked. Impaled on his stake. My nipples were stinging as my boobs were squashed against the cold steel. With every powerful thrust, my chain clanged against the car grill. One hand gripped me tight by the neck and his cock hammered me like he wanted to ram me through the hood. We both came in record time.

He pulled out. The chain clanged slowly and finally stopped.

I tried to pull myself together. His ejaculate was streaming out of me and down my chain. Disoriented by the adrenalin flooding through my body, I lay sprawled on the hood, panting, hair falling down over my face. Then I staggered upright, my top up near my throat, mini-skirt bunched at the waist, the chain dangling down. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and realized he was taking photos of me. "Jack, no..." I protested feebly. I fell into the car and tried to make myself presentable, pulling my skirt down over the chain, cold and wet against my crotch.

Jack jumped in and we were homeward bound. I couldn't speak, I was still on such an emotional high, replaying over and again Jack beating that man in the bar. I am a modern woman, but this touched a subconscious, primordal part of me I had never known existed. Two men competing for possession of me. I was shocked at how thrilling I found that, and my emotions were stirred in a way I didn't understand. I knew now why Jack made me step over the body on the floor: to show his rival what he was missing, to emphasize his defeat.

But what if the other guy had beaten Jack - what then? Would I have submitted to the alpha male, gone off to mate with the victor? Of course not ... would I? Would I? What sort of cavewoman had I turned into?

All I knew was that we were going to do this again. In the garage, when Cassie was out and there was no one to hear the clanging of my chain against the car grill. Maybe even on our driveway in the dark under the stars. This was too good not to repeat.

As we approached the suburbs, I asked him: "Your fists, are they all right? You hit him pretty hard."

"I'm fine. They teach you to punch with the heel of your hand. I'm bruised, but nothing broken. Can't guarantee the same for him."

"What did he say, that man?"

"Doesn't matter, Mom. He said something about you."

"It must have been bad."

Jack kept his eyes on the road. "Remember, I told you how I've always wanted to protect you. Ever since I was a kid, I've heard men talk about you that way. 'Tits on legs. Only good for one thing'. I swore that when I was old enough, I'd never let them say that again. Every woman has a right to be respected. No man talks about my mother like that. You're mine. He's lucky I didn't cripple him."

I glowed. Jack, my lover, my defender. Where have you been all my life? Well, of course, for the first 24 years you weren't born...

I woke in his arms. He was carrying me inside. Upstairs, he unclipped my chain and held it at arm's length. "This is gonna need a clean. It certainly got a baptism tonight."

He ran me a bath, and an hour later we were cuddling in bed. He showed me the series of photos he had taken of me in the parking lot.

The first shots were gynacologically graphic: me face-down, spread-eagled across the hood, cunt gaping and thighs smeared with his discharge. The next few were of a woman caught in the camera flash, weak-kneed and dazzled, expensive hair dishevelled, blank eyes staring like a deer in the headlights, enormous boobs, frozen nipples sticking out, a dripping bush, and that chain hanging down, glinting. One final shot of me, split beaver, as I spread my legs to climb into the car.

They were the most exciting images I had ever seen. They looked like an artfully staged erotic shoot, except for the dazed, feral look in my eyes; a look that said: what just happened? That, and my son's sperm trickling from between my legs. In my mind, I could hear my chain clanging as he smashed into me. And to this day, the sound of a steel chain on metal gets my pussy drooling like Pavlov's dogs.

"You'd make a great porn model, Mom. And there's something else. Wanna watch?" He connected his phone to the television and pressed Play.

I dragged my eyes away from the photos. The dark TV screen took two or three seconds to adjust. It was a room - not in our house; a room... was it the beach house? He fast-forwarded and paused when it came to two figures. One of them was Jack, sitting on the bed, erection poking skyward. And me, out of focus, then sharpening as I approached him, turned and backed onto him. I watched myself wince as he guided himself into the hole and I cautiously lowered myself onto him until all we could see was his balls.

"You filmed us on your phone!" I cried.

On the screen, he was caressing my breasts while I practically purred with joy. I raised my legs, then he placed his hands under my backside and, with a monumental effort, rose to his feet, steadied himself and began pumping.

I watched in awe. My breasts were bouncing, my head was thrown back in ecstasy. And down there, I thrilled to see his cock ram into me.

I put my fingers on the phone and closed in on our crotches. It was like a wonder of nature, his dick spearing me again and again. I closed in a little more. The definition on the TV was incredible: I could see my pink lips clinging to his organ as it withdrew, shiny with my juices, then pushed back in. With every stroke, I remembered the workout my clitoris was getting.

"Look at you!"

"Look at you!"

"Look at us!"

I could barely believe what I was seeing. We were beautiful. His muscles bulging as he held me aloft. My stretched vagina, breasts wobbling wildly with every stroke as I was transfixed on his mighty organ. Despite my weight, his thrusts had become sure and steady. We were panting, crying, grunting. The room shook as we brought each other to a fiery peak, the floorboards creaking as Jack shifted his weight.

He held me there for long minutes as he got softer, then his cock began to slide from my cunt. Suddenly the screen was obscured, and I realised it was the globules of cum that he had sprayed across the room and onto the camera lens. I heard him groan and fall on the bed. The only sound was our ragged breathing and a steady drip, drip, drip.

There was no need for words. I scrambled onto my hands and knees, facing the TV, and Jack positioned himself behind me. We watched his cum trickle down the screen. My finger hit the replay button.