Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Reluctant, Incest, Mother, Son, Light Bond, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Exhibitionism, Public Sex,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Desperate for cash, Danny's mother agrees to participate in a psychology experiment that changes her life, and her relationship with her son, forever.
I think they probably picked Mom because of her dress. I mean, we were having money problems, but we weren't so poor that Mom was stuck wearing clothes with holes in them. She just didn't notice that the seam on her right shoulder was parting until we were already at the mall.
Whatever the reason, they picked Mom out of the crowd and they certainly chose the right line to get her attention.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Would you be interested in making five hundred dollars, this afternoon?"
Mom and I looked up from the bourbon chicken we were splitting to see three young women, probably in their early twenties. They were all nicely dressed in knee-length skirts, of various colors, and white, button-down blouses. It was the brunette who had asked the question.
"I don't think so," Mom said, hesitantly.
"Please, let me explain," the blond said. "We're psychology students at the university. The five-hundred dollars is a participant fee for an experiment we're conducting."
"What sort of experiment."
"All you have to do is read the 119th psalm."
"I just have to read a psalm?" asked Mom.
"It's a long psalm," said the redhead.
"There's more to it than that," Mom said. It wasn't a question.
"Of course, there is," said the brunette, smiling brightly. "You will have to ignore some distractions to finish. I should warn you, they might be a bit naughty, but nothing illegal. If you read the psalm, in its entirety, you earn your stipend, in cash."
Mom was going to say no, up until the moment that the blond held out a thick envelope stuffed with cash.
"All we have are twenties. I hope that's okay."
"Twenties are fine," Mom said. She was hooked.
Mom had been out of work for almost three months, at that point. She had just spent more than she could afford to buy me a couple of back-to-school outfits and supplies. My second year of high school would be starting, in two more days.
"Excellent," the brunette smiled, again. "If you would follow us?"
Mom glanced at me, nervously. I had no idea what was going on but what did we have to lose? Mom had spent the last of her cash on our lunch and, with a half-stocked refrigerator, we were out of money until her unemployment check arrived, in a little less than a week. All that was in her purse were maxed-out credit cards and a couple of dollars. And, besides, I probably weighed almost as much as any two of the women we followed across the food-court and into the narrow hall that led to the restrooms. They weren't likely to try to mug us, or anything.
I hadn't realized it, before, but just beyond the restrooms were a few, nondescript doors. The redhead unlocked one of these, and we were led into a small room, about twenty feet square.
In the middle of the was a high, square table, three feet to a side, covered with a white table cloth that hung to the floor. On one side of the table was a bar stool and a small home video camera on a tripod. On the other was what looked like one of those odd, ergonomic chairs, with a high back-rest that leaned slightly backwards and, instead of a seat, a sort of tiny saddle and a couple of knee rests. I supposed that somebody "sitting" on it would form a straight line from their knees to their shoulders, but it didn't look all that comfortable to me.
Fortunately, that was not my problem.
"Young man, if you would please sit here," the blond indicated the stool, next to the camera.
I took my seat and twiddled my thumbs while the three women escorted Mom to another, smaller table, along the back wall, where they quietly talked, for several minutes. Mom flashed nervous glances back, over her shoulder, at me, a few times, but mostly just listened. Eventually, she nodded and then spent another minute or two filling out some forms, before coming over to sit on the saddle-chair.
I couldn't see very much. Even though my stool was too high for my feet to touch the ground, the table seemed too tall, and Mom was pretty close, on the other side. But she did seem to squirm, a lot, and it didn't look like she ever got very comfortable.
When Mom was settled into place, the redhead stepped up and put an open bible and the envelope of cash on the table.
"We explained the rules to your mother, but there are a few things you need to know. In a moment, I am going to turn on the camera, we'll make the final adjustments to the equipment and leave the two of you alone. Once the camera is rolling, you are not allowed to speak. Your mother must read the assigned text with some possible additional commentary that has already been explained. The door is unlocked and you are both free to leave at any time. However," she turned to mom, "as we explained, if you fail to read the entire text, you forfeit your stipend. Do you have any questions."
I glanced at Mom who shook her head, curtly. She was blushing, for some reason, and wouldn't meet my eye.
Things were happening really fast and, despite the redhead's explanation, I had no idea what was happening. I had a million questions but Mom seemed to know what was going on and, although she looked nervous and uncomfortable, she didn't seem to be scared.
What I did know was that there was a thick wad of cash, on the table, and we really needed the money. In about a month, I would turn sixteen and could get a job to help out. But, until then, we needed the cash.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I guess not."
The redhead flashed a quick smile and put a steno notebook and a pen down in front of me, saying, "You might need these."
The blond, standing next to me, pressed the record button on the camera while the brunette reached behind mom's chair. Mom slid down, an inch or so, and closed her eyes for a second or two before taking the bible, in both hands.
After all three women had left the room, Mom started to read.
"One. Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord." Mom's voice squeaked, when she said, "Lord." She squeezed her eyes closed and took a couple of deep breaths, before continuing. "Two. Blessed are they that keep his testimonies, and that seek him with the whole heart. Three. They also do no iniquity: they walk in his ways."
While Mom had been catching her breath, even though she had only read one line of the psalm, I became aware of a humming noise. And, as she continued to read, it slowly dawned on me what was happening.
Mom's chair had that little saddle shape, about six inches long, rounded and angled upward, like a fat, stubby phallus. Her crotch must be pressed against it. In fact, now that I thought about it, she had reached behind herself, to adjust her clothes, when she was sitting down. She must have pulled her dress out of the way so that she could straddle the odd protrusion. Of course, she would be supporting most of her weight on the knee rests.
Except that the brunette had done something to the chair, before she left. Something that had lowered Mom's body by a couple of inches. Something like dropping the knee rests until most, if not all, of Mom's weight rested on her crotch. And, between her legs, pressed against the pussy that it hadn't ever even occurred to me that Mom had, was that thick, phallic shape. It wasn't inside of her, the angle was completely wrong for that and, besides, it was thicker than the end of a baseball bat. But it was pressed tightly against her sex and, judging by the humming noise, and the beads of sweat breaking out on mom's forehead, nose and upper lip, it was vibrating pretty intensely.
"Thirteen. With my lips have I declared all the judgments of thy mouth."
Mom she sat there, turning pink and breathing heavily, and continued to read. She hadn't even seemed surprised. Clearly, the women had explained what was going to happen and, for some reason, Mom had agreed.
Some reason. Hell, the reason was right there, on the table, next to Mom's hand. Five hundred bucks in cold, hard cash. We could buy a lot of ramen, macaroni and cheese and bean burritos for five hundred bucks. We could even buy something else, some real food, for a change.
"Twenty. My soul breaketh for the longing that it hath unto thy judgments at all times."
Mom's voice was getting ragged and she was clearly starting to struggle to concentrate on her reading. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were locked on the page in front of her.
Mom's dress was an old, thin, light-blue cotton thing with short sleeves, a v-neck and buttons down the front. In the opening her collar, I could see her upper chest starting to turn red and...
Her nipples were hard. I mean, really big and hard. Mom had pretty good sized breasts and, at the tip of each, a stiff mound the size of a thimble was straining to tear through her bra and dress, alike.
"Twenty eight. My soul melteth for heavy ... Oh, god!"
My eyes snapped up to Mom's face, when she almost yelled her exclamation. She was looking right at me. She had seen me staring at her breasts, wobbling as he body trembled, and those fat, mouth-watering nipples. How long had I been staring? I snapped my mouth shut. Had I been open-mouthed and drooling? I had been imagining sucking them, had my lips been pursed?
I was going to get in so much fucking trouble.
"Twenty eight. My soul melteth for heaviness:" Mom repeated, loudly and firmly, as if determined to muscle through the ponderous, King James translation, "strengthen thou me according unto thy word."
And, as they say, that was that. Although she held the bible, tightly gripped in both hands, she stopped trying to read. With her eyes closed, she panted through her open mouth, just barely vocalizing her heavy breaths, until she closed her mouth, held her breath, stiffened and shuddered her way through an orgasm.
My own mother, the forty-two year old woman who had raised me, all on her own, and the only parent I had ever known, had an intense orgasm while sitting less that four feet away, directly in front of me. She came, hard, and her orgasm lasted for fifteen or twenty seconds.
I know she came because, after the tension drained out of her body, after she looked down towards where her crotch was hidden by her skirt and the table cloth, squeezing her eyes shut against the sensation the still humming little saddle must be causing, she looked directly at me and said, "I had my first orgasm at verse," she struggled to focus on the bible, "twenty-eight?. Oh dear god. Verse twenty-eight. Please right that down."
My eyes went from Mom's blushing, sweaty face, to the bible, to the blank notebook in front of me.
Jesus Christ, that was intense. And fucking beautiful, too. I had never even kissed a girl, let alone watched one come before. I couldn't believe that the first time I witnessed the beauty of the female climax, it was my mother who was coming. Could I ever think of her the same way? Would she ever be plain-old Mom, again?
Did I care? No. If I had known what was going to happen, I would gladly have walked through a snake-pit to see it. And, I wasn't going to be limited to just one, either. Mom was gritting her teeth and trembling, as she read, "Thirty one. I have stuck unto thy testimonies: O Lord, put me not to shame." I didn't think she would last much longer.
Not wanting to look away, for longer than necessary, I grabbed the pen and wrote, "First orgasm: verse..." Damn it! What verse had she said? That's right, twenty-eight. And she seemed dismayed at the number. As I wrote the verse number down, I wondered how many verses there were in Psalm 119.
"Not yet," Mom glared at the camera. Her body was stiff and trembling. Her entire face was now wet with sweat and strands of hair were clinging to her cheeks and forehead. "Not. Yet," she repeated, intensely, and looked back down at the bible.
"Thirty six. Incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not to covetousness. Thirty seven. Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity; and quicken thou me in thy way."
Mom was holding back her orgasm. She spoke through clenched teeth and the tendons stood out from her neck as she made her way past verse forty, and then forty-five. She sounded almost triumphant, as if she had won some sort of contest, when she finally read, "Fifty. This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word ... hath ... quickened ... me."
Mom's grin faded, when she caught my eye. I think that, for a while, at least, she must have forgotten that I was there. Now, though, she knew and she stared directly into my eyes as she shuddered through another silent orgasm.
She continued to stare at me as she struggled to catch her breath. The triumph was gone from her eyes as the saddle continued to vibrate. I gave her my best attempt at a reassuring smile and a little nod, trying to communicate that I thought she could do it.
Mom swallowed, nodded and gasped, "Second orgasm: verse fifty."
I looked away from her just long enough to write that down and Mom waited until my eyes were back on her face to return her attention to her bible.
"Fifty one. The proud have had me greatly in derision: yet have I not declined from thy law."
As it turns out, Psalm 119 has 176 verses and is, in fact, the longest chapter in the bible. An interesting little fact that I learned from the Internet, later that night. Here's another way to measure the length. It was long enough to make my mother come nine times.
"One. Seventy. Six. I. Have. Gone. Astray. Like. A. Lost. Sheep. Seek Thy Servant. For. I. Do. Not. Forget. Thy. Commandments."
There was no mistaking the victorious tone of Mom's voice as she slowly read the last verse, pronouncing each word, individually, before snapping the bible shut, leaning her had back against the high back of her odd chair, gripping the edge of the table in both hands and, looking directly into my eyes, let herself come, for the last time, with a loud, drawn out, "Fuuuuck."
Mom's last orgasm of the afternoon was also her most intense. She was only able to keep her eyes on me for a few seconds, before they rolled back into her head and, after a long drawn out sigh that must surely have completely emptied her lungs, she sagged forward to rest her head on her folded arms on the table.
She was trembling and twitching and I could hear the vibrator still humming, but I didn't know that she had finished and, as far as I knew, I still wasn't allowed to talk. Mom cleared that up for me, after a few seconds, by saying, "Orgasm nine. Verse one hundred and seventy-six. Write that down and turn off the fucking camera."
I added the final entry to my log and quickly found the stop button.
"Now turn this damned thing off." Mom's forehead was still on her crossed arms, but her back was now arched, as the chair continued to hum, between her thighs.
I jumped off of my stool and took my first really good look at Mom's chair. Sure enough, the knee rests were about half an inch below her knees and her lower shins rested on small posts that would have been difficult to get any leverage against, not that she would have been able to lift herself very far, pushing forward with slightly bent legs. Her skirt was bunched up, behind her lower back, and the backs of her thighs and a glimpse of beige panties were exposed.
There was a cord that ran from the back of the chair to a plug in the wall, directly behind it. I knelt down and pulled it out, but Mom immediately protested.
"Wait. Wait. It's too close. I need ... I need one more. Please, Danny." With my ears burning, I plugged her back in. "Yes! Thank you. O God!"
Mom didn't have much leverage, with her legs, but she could now push, with her upper body, against the table and I could watch the muscles ripple in her thighs as she ground against the saddle, until she tensed up and shook her way through one more climax.