A Little Treat

"My, my," she trilled melodiously. "Is that a really, really big mouse in your pocket, or...."

Mom – Marilynn – knew damn well she could make me hard simply by walking into the room. Her tease made me that much harder.

"You are being rude," she admonished quietly.

"I am?" I replied.

"Yesss," she sighed, glancing at the huge bulge in my jeans. "You haven't introduced me to your friend."

She reached over with both hands, unzipped the zipper and, with difficulty, extracted my rampant rod from its denim prison. Her eyes went wide in disbelief.

"Oh, my... God," she spoke in a near whisper. "I knew you were big, but this...."

She raised her head slightly, gazing at my now-trembling lips through heavy-lidded eyes.

"I think it's time your friend and I got better acquainted," she expressed in hushed tones. "Perhaps on a long-term basis."

"B-but what about... your husband?" I queried, instinctively staying in character.

"Baby," she sassed, brushing my lips with hers, "he is putting my feet to sleep. He hasn't even touched me in a month. A woman like me has needs and he isn't satisfying them. As far as I am concerned, I am trading up!"

In all my dreams, all my fantasies, I never dared hope it would be this good. The smell, touch and taste of her overwhelmed my senses as she embraced me and attacked my mouth with her probing tongue. She shifted one hand to my exposed shaft and began softly stroking its length. Pre-cum oozed from the tip like a leaky faucet. I slipped one hand up her sinfully-short skirt. Sweet Jesus! Her shaved, pantiless pussy was hot, wet, and completely open to me!

It was instantly clear there would be no foreplay, no gentle caresses this time; we were both too far gone for that. The only 'pillow talk' we would exchange would be the gutter variety. In our frenzy, we were barely able to get my jeans down around my ankles before I was on her, then in her. Her eyes opened as wide as saucers as I slammed my meat into her soaking snatch. The only sound she made was a loud grunt as the impact of my initial thrust expelled all the air from her lungs.

"So fucking hot," I murmured. "So fucking wet. It's like I am nailing a steam pipe."

"Oooo, yeah, Baby," Marilynn cooed. "I am on fire. Fuck me. Rape me. Use my worthless cunt. Make me your whore. Ram your great big fuckstick into my slut hole until I choke on it. Stretch out my cooze until I can't even feel another man! You are all the man I could ever want. Harder. Harder... you... bas...tard...fuck... me...HARDERRRRRRRR!!!!!"

The possessed redhead's body bucked violently beneath me. Her eyes lost focus, staring straight at the ceiling, but seeing nothing. I knew she had been close but had had no idea she had been on a hair trigger. The ecstasy of watching Marilynn plummet into oblivion, knowing I sent her there, pushed me over the edge with her. I flooded her love cave with wave after wave of molten lava.

"Don't stop, Baby," she gasped. "Don't ever stop! I need more of you. I need all of you, everything you have to give."

I didn't stop. My cock was possessed, had a will of its own. It just kept slamming into her pussy, squeezing white cream from our previous orgasm out the sides. I came twice more while we banged on the couch. She came... I dunno, maybe six, seven times. Finally, I shed my shoes, socks, jeans and briefs, then carried her limp form into the master bedroom and lay her carefully on the bed. I allowed her a few minutes to recover her senses while I lit some candles, then refreshed our drinks (I could tell by the smell she had dosed my Coca-Cola with dark, sweet rum; I made another).

She took her drink from me gratefully and sipped while I stood before her, sipping mine. We each placed our drinks on her bedside table. I gently removed her vest and skirt, noting we miraculously had not soiled either during our frenzied sex. I folded them carefully and placed them atop her dresser, vowing we would have use for this particular fetish outfit sooner, rather than later. I approached the bed and gazed down, seeing her as I had never seen her before. She was clad only in garter belt, stockings, and heels. Her long-lasting lipstick had held up well enough, as had the rest of her makeup. Her hair was a mess, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little time and care. There was a glow about her mere words could not begin to express. This was the woman who had given me birth. Now, she offered me re-birth – a life I had only begun to sample. She was equal parts Heaven and harlot, and she eagerly awaited my return.

Marilynn (she had been right; being with her this way, I couldn't conceive of her as 'Mom') reached for me tenderly, pulling me down into her embrace. We explored each other's bodies by candlelight, using little licks, nips, kisses and soft caresses to express ourselves to each other. Making love to her was easy. She had already given me the 'keys to the castle' by teaching me all the little tricks that turned her on – and turn her on, they did. I reduced her to a quivering mass of multi-orgasmic gooseflesh with only my fingertips, lips, tongue, and a bit of mutually-inspired pillow talk.

"Oooooooh, Sugar," she sighed, "that was good. You really know how to push my buttons."

"I had a good teacher," I replied, kissing the tip of her nose softly. "The best."

"...and don't you ever forget it," she responded with a wink and a grin. "Eat your hearts out, Bitches."

"Huh?" I responded, confused.

"My 'competition'," she explained playfully.

"No contest," I asserted with a smile. "There never has been."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I stared at the sheets we would almost certainly have to trash, gathering my thoughts.

"The others were just... babies," I asserted. "I was attracted to them in an almost clinical way. For most of them, it was their first time. I used what you taught me to make it a good experience for them. Usually, it was – for them..."

I gazed into the stunning redhead's eyes.

"You ruined me for anyone else," I avowed quietly.

The expression on her face was equal parts love and anguish.

"Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry..." she began.

I silenced her with a single finger to her lips.

"Don't," I cautioned. "I am not sorry. I have had the best. I'll leave the rest to someone who doesn't know the difference."

"I'm about to make every other girl on this planet hate me with a passion," she sighed.

"Why would they?" I asked.

"Because," she softly proclaimed, "as of this moment, you are off the market. I have decided you are just too damn good a prize to allow some other slut to get her hooks into you. I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep you all to myself."

As if realizing the import of her own words for the first time, Marilynn gazed down at those same cum-stained sheets, shaking her head sadly.

"I feel like such a slut," she sighed. "My own s..."

I cut off her spoken thought with one index finger to her lips. Then, I placed that finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet mine.

"You'd better," I demanded. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Her eyes filled with shock. Her body jerked as if she had been physically punched. The shocked expression was replaced by a glimmer in her eyes, followed by that same heavy-lidded expression of lust I had seen earlier. Her hand slid down, grasping my tight butt and pulling forward. The alignment was perfect; my born-again joypole slid effortlessly into her bush with an audible squish. She sighed expressively, then looked me full in the face and smiled evilly.

"Say it," she hissed. "Tell me exactly what you want me to be."

It was my turn to grin as I pistoned my prick in and out of her snatch.

"I want," I began slowly, pressing a finger against her anal button, "you to be a nasty little slut, the lewdest cunt around."

She caught her breath with a little gasp.

"How nasty?" she inquired, moving her hips in rhythm with mine.

"Really, really nasty," I intoned. "I miss my 'little treats'. In fact, I want more than that. I want to take my slut to a bar, someplace as sleazy as she is. I want everyone who sees her to know she is available to all cummers. I want to see her take a cock in her pussy, in her ass, in her mouth. I want to see her make all three cum inside her. I want her to come back to me dripping, weeping, gushing cum from every hole. I want her to confess to me what a sleazy little whore she has become and describe every detail of how they took her while I clean the cum out of her, then take her myself. I want her to confess to me she is addicted to cock, addicted to sex, addicted to cum, addicted to the thrill of being taken by other men, many men, as many as she can get. I want her to be nothing more than a shameless fuck toy, cum catcher, a receptacle for sperm."

My lover's eyes glazed over. Her cunt was flowing like a river. I wet the middle finger of one hand and slid it up into her anal blossom. She melted against me.

"Yes," she gushed. "YES! I am that slut. I want to be your nasty little ho', more than I have ever wanted anything else in my life. I'll take you to those places. I want you to see other men use me, defile me. I'll come home to you painted in cum, nastier than the cheapest, sleaziest whore who ever did the ho' stroll on the nastiest corner of the nastiest street in the nastiest neighborhood of the nastiest town on the face of the earth. I'll be that whore for you. You can drop me off on that corner, leave me there, watch me walk the street, watch me turn dates. I'll come home to you so full of cum, you will be eating it for a week! I'll serve you up a three-course meal; from my pussy, ass, and mouth. Just tell me I am yours, that I will always be yours, forever and ever, and I will be the filthiest, nastiest, cum sponge that... ever... ever... LIVVVVVVVVVVVED!!!!!!!"

My lover collapsed against me, spasming like an epileptic in the throes of a Grand Mal. Her eyes were rolled up into her head. She drooled a little from the corner of her mouth. The only sound she could make was incoherent gurgling. My cock was flooding her pussy like a firehose, adding to her sensory overload. She finally recovered enough of her wits to straighten up and gaze longingly into my eyes.

"No-no-no-no..." she stuttered ineffectually, "no one has ever gotten inside my head the way you do. You scare me, the way you do it so effortlessly."

I shrugged my shoulders a little.

"That came from inside my head," I admitted.

Her eyes opened wide in wonderment. She pressed her lush body tightly against mine and gazed longingly into my eyes.

"Tell me you love me," she intoned urgently. "Tell me I am yours."

"But what about..." I began.

"FUCK THAT!" she screamed. "Fuck ALL of that! The love of my life has sprung full-blown from my own loins. That is just as dirty, nasty, and perverted as I am, but it is God's own truth. I will continue to be your father's dutiful little trophy for as long as he wants me, but my heart and soul belong to you now."

She grabbed my rampant rod and squeezed – hard. All the while, she fixed me with a steely gaze.

"Tell me you love me, you bastard," she repeated emphatically. "Tell me I am yours, forever and ever, or so help me God, I will rip this magnificent ten-incher out at the root and feed it back to you right now."

In response, I placed my hand firmly over her hand and jammed forward, spearing the head of my cock between her pussy lips. She released her grip just as I thrust forward a second time, ramming it all the way home. She shuddered and sighed a small sigh.

"Does that answer your question... slut?" I inquired.

Before she could frame a response, I continued.

"I have always loved you, first as my mother, then as my mentor, now as my whore. You do belong to me; heart, soul, body, mind, every part of you. When you fuck other men – and you will fuck other men – you will do so as my slut. If my father demands you to honor your spousal obligations, you will fuck him as my slut, not as his wife. After you have had a man, you will drag your sorry slut ass home to me, dripping with cum, and confess how much you adored taking his cock, taking his seed deep inside you. You will admit to me how cheap, dirty, and sleazy it makes you feel to know what a depraved little cum sponge you are. Do you hear me, Whore? Do you? ANSWER ME!"

She couldn't. At that moment, her mind was somewhere in another plane of existence. Her eyes stared blankly at my chest as her body shuddered through yet another release. Moments later her body slipped off my cock and collapsed on the bed, still vibrating like a tautly-wound violin string. I straightened the covers as best I could, then pulled them over her supine form. I slipped in next to her and held her in my arms. I was asleep in a matter of minutes.

Was it a head game? Sure, and a very powerful one. But it wasn't just a head game. We played out our 'game' for real many times during my college days; in bars, clubs, even that 'street-walker' fantasy. Each time, my slut lover returned to me dripping with a man's creamy offering, confessing how much she loved being a sleaze and especially how much she loved having me to share a cum-filled kiss and mind-blowing fuck with afterward.

I made her seduce my father on more than one occasion, while I awaited her in my bedroom down the hall. She invariably returned in an hour or so, having completed her task and sent him off to Dreamland, yet still had enough time to paint her face whorishly, don garter belt, stockings and heels, then slip down the hall and into my waiting arms. She railed at what a flabby, pathetic fuck he had become, and how glad she was to have a real man to come home to. The fact that she was cuckolding him while he slumbered just down the hall made her near-continuous orgasms all the more intense. My shoulder took a fearsome beating as I jammed her mouth into it to stifle her room-shaking screams of ecstasy. It was all I could do to prevent her from waking the dead, let alone her husband.

My father died of a massive heart attack about a year after I joined the company full-time. It was so tragic – and comic. He had suffered his coronary in a hotel room in Grand Rapids – while fucking the secretary of one of his oldest, most dedicated clients. That part got left out of the published obituary. My father had been unfaithful? My lover and I just gazed into each other's eyes and shook our heads in amazement. You never know.... Yes, she cried at the funeral. We both did. Bizarre circumstance aside, we both loved him. We buried him with his wedding band on his finger and hers in the palm of his hand. ...'til death do us part....

I had proven my worth to the company, first as an intern, then in the year I had been my father's right-hand man. That, plus the wealth of knowledge I displayed about company products, practices, and procedures – I was my father's son – was all the proof the board of directors needed. I made them feel as though my father had never left. For purposes of business continuity, I was appointed to take his place. They were duly impressed when the dutiful son elected to reside with his mother, the grieving widow, to see to her needs as well as those of the company. The directors were certain they had made the right choice.

There were a few changes in procedures at the top. At Marilynn's suggestion, I hired Brenda as an executive secretary. That has worked out well, both for her and the senior-level officers who share her. I made certain I had a cadre of top-notch sales people in my employ. That, plus teleconferencing, reduced the need for me to go out on the road, as my father had. When I did travel on business, it was always in the company of my own ravishing 'personal assistant', now on the payroll. The company long-timers forgave me this little bit of flagrant nepotism. In private, they congratulated me for my unflagging devotion to my mother. If they only knew....

We were married in a private ceremony, with only a few scene-related friends in attendance. Brenda was Marilynn's Matron of Honor. There had not been, and would not be a public announcement of our betrothal to our 'extended family' at the company. The Oedipal overtones would have been too much for the sensibilities of most. A few key players – those my wife and Brenda assured me they were in a position to leverage, if not trust – were briefed to smooth over any potential rough spots. We don't view it as a May-December romance. It's more like... May-July, as in the Fourth of July. The fireworks are still exploding every day.

We exchanged rings in the traditional way, as a symbol of our utter devotion to each other. The company at large will assume Marilynn is still wearing her original wedding band in tribute to her late husband. If anyone asks me about the ring I wear, I merely state it is my own special token of devotion and let it go at that. There may be idle speculation, but even old company hands tread lightly when it comes to the CEO's personal life. Productivity and profits have never been higher, the board and stockholders are happy, and profit sharing has benefited every employee. I believe everyone will be content to let sleeping dogs lie.

Our 'reception' was held at a club that would not be found on either Cityscapes or the Michelin Guide. It was heavy on Industrial drum and bass, light on due order and decorum, and stacked to the rafters with over-sexed pretty people. Marilynn and Brenda certainly fit that description and dressed the part. The evening drew on and I let my bride know I was more than ready to get her alone. She and Brenda looked at each other and giggled. Marilynn pressed her body against mine, wiggled her pussy against my mammoth bulge and kissed me warmly.

"You go ahead, Baby," she trilled musically, a twinkle in her eye. "I'll be along in a bit."

About two hours later, I heard the door to our hotel suite open and close. A moment later, both my bride and her Matron slinked seductively into the bedroom, coy smiles on their lips. I will swear I saw canary feathers on both. They approached the bed from opposite sides, knelt above my face and raised their skirts. Thick, ropy gobs of white goo oozed from their pussies and down their inner thighs.

"Are you ready for a little treat?" my bride purred, winking an eye. "It's kind of a... double-dipper."