Copyright© 2001-2003

There was a young woman in Dee
Who stayed with each man she did see.
When it came to a test
She wished to be best,
And practice makes perfect, you see.

If you have ever driven across the prairies, you will know just how boring and mind-numbing it can be. I sat in the back seat staring off to space for the most part, while wishing I could fall into a deep sleep as my sister, seated next to me, had.

The roads were straight and flat, and since dad stuck to the main highways, normally double lane. He cruised about twenty kilometres above the posted speed limit and so, we often raced past many other motorists.

I really did not want to go to my sisters wedding, my older sister, as I hated crowds and functions. But mom was positively beaming while dad was somber and probably worried about the money. When she was awake, my younger sister rambled insanely on her brides-maids dress and all the details about a wedding that held zero interest for me.

My mind often wandered to many imaginative worlds that I created within my own head - worlds and people of my own making. I have always been creative, writing stories, drawing - and I used it to escape from the mediocrity of my life. This was normal for the introverted teen life that I lead.

This fantasy was me standing before fifty thousand people, the lead guitar and singer for one of the hottest rock bands - especially with girls fifteen to twenty-one. They screamed as I strummed through my riff, dropped to my knees before the crowd of desperate female fans with their arms reaching toward me and the stage.

"John?"

The images disappeared in a blink and I shook my head to help me transfer back to this reality. "Yea mom?"

"Did you remember to pack your black dress socks?" I only had one pair.

With a exaggerated sigh, "Yes mom!" It seemed like she came up with another question about what I, or my younger sister, brought every few miles.

Thankfully she was in too good a mood to chastise me regarding my 'attitude', a lecture I frequently endured.

Dad was speedy by a long stream of cars, all moving behind a large semi-trailer at its head. Even driving he was asking mom about the cost of the flowers for the reception while mom did her best to calm him down without giving any actual dollar figure. It was comic if you heard it - but frustration maddening after enduring it for hours.

As we sped past the cars I looked into each, people watching, some even looking back, trying to guess the make and model of the cars. I also tried to imagine what any of the people in the cars were doing when they were not speeding through the prairies. Like that weird haircut that guy wore - had to be a salesmen. And another, with his wife, just had to be farmers - she did not look happy and he probably drank too much and she felt her life ruined.

It was a game I played - another way to endure this trip.

Dad suddenly hit the brakes quickly and I heard him curse, "Shit... cops!" Which meant he slowed down to the speed limit. Mom was following the highway patrol with her eyes as we drove cautiously past them. This was the game did played on trips - cat and mouse with the highway patrol.

I turned back to my view out my window.

As we were now going the speed limit, I noticed that we were keeping pace with a large expensive car beside us, a classic silver Mercedes I think. Naturally I looked through to appraise the trio within - two ladies and a man, each really old, older than my parents, maybe as old as my grandma.

The woman in the back seat saw me watching her and she broke out in a wide pleasant smile. I could not help but smile back. She spoke a couple of words to the man and woman in front and they both turned to me. The white-haired lady in the front passenger seat waved happily.

They seemed pleased about something? Perhaps the two in front were man and wife, the girl in back his sister. No the other womans sister, they did resemble each other. They were just out for a Sunday drive - don't old people do that? No, I think there is some convention or another - and the man is independently wealthy from selling... plumbing supplies.

Suddenly dad sped up and the two ladies were waving goodbye as we quickly sped past them.

I stood in line at the busy truck stop, only wanting to buy a can of Coke and a small bag of chips. Dad was getting gas, mom was looking for some item or another at the gift shop and my younger sister had disappeared, as she often does, to the bathroom.

A hand touched my shoulder gently, "Hello?"

I turned to look into the bright green eyes of the older woman from the Mercedes, the one in the front seat. "Uh... hi."

I noticed the driver, the older distinguished looking man stood next to her looking rather amused at something.

"I thought it was you?"

She was only being friendly, a fifty-something year old saying hi.

He spoke up, "Sixty actually."

What? "Pardon me sir?" My parents always told me to be polite to my elders.

"Martha is sixty-something not fifty." He smirked and looked toward the head of the line, probably wondering why it took so long for each purchase.

How the hell did he guess I thought she was fifty years old? And 'Martha' certainly looked very good for her age - if she was indeed sixty years old.

"You were way wrong back there." He wasn't even looking at me as he spoke.

I looked down to see her arm hooked into his, in her other hand some bag of dried fruit that they must be purchasing.

"Back where sir?" Truly I had no idea what he was talking about.

He nodded over her shoulder toward the door and the highway. "We are not going to any convention nor are we out for a 'Sunday' drive. 'Old' indeed!" Rather than look angry he looked amused.

I must have looked completely stupid, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide. How the hell... I mean, I was thinking those thoughts not speaking out loud... and if I had spoken them, how the hell could they have heard me between two cars with windows shut on the highway?

"You were right about one thing though?" He didn't wait for my reply, but he finally looked down into my eyes, "They are sisters."

The clerk at the counter caught my attention and though stunned, I purchased my drink and chips.

Dad suggested we stop for lunch, it being close enough and I think he always enjoyed truck stop greasy burgers, before continuing on with our journey.

It was quiet throughout the meal and thankfully the rest of my family were busy chatting about the upcoming weeding to even notice my somber reflection.

The reasons that I conjured for that old man answering my unasked questions seemed wild and far fetched, but the most likely one that I came up with is that they were aliens.

"Shit... cops!" Dad hit the brakes and quickly decelerated. Then he followed up with, "Accident." The traffic was slowing to a crawl as we were waved over into one lane.

Mom added, "Its a bad one."

I stretched my neck to see through the rain-streaked windows at the cops waving cars over to the side. My sister Geri was doing the same.

Our momentum slowed to nothing and dad put the car in park. We were only a hundred meters from the main congestion area and I squinted to see the accident.

The first thing I noticed was a silver Mercedes, an older model.

Barely realizing it I mumbled something about stretching my legs as I climbed out the back seat of our car. I strode slowly purposely toward the main area of the crash. It was apparent a van had been involved, and another smaller car - as well as the Mercedes.

I heard mom's voice somewhere behind me, "Get back here John!" She was probably worried that I had not worn a raincoat - it was a warm spring rain.

I stumbled forwards and somehow slipped between the police, ambulance and fire-fighters. Martha was kneeling beside the old man, he being worked on by two paramedics. The white haired woman was crying and I saw she had a cut on her forehead that was bleeding down into her eye.

The scene was chaotic.

I fell to my knees next to the old man, and realized I didn't even know his name. No one said a word about me being there - but Martha looked up startled.

The old man, seventies I would guess, lifted one hand with effort and placed it against my wet forehead.

He spoke the words so softly that I thought I had heard wrong, "Its yours now John."

"John... ?" Mother was fast approaching behind me and I could hear her arguing with a policemen, "... there, right there... that's my son."

The man suddenly took a deep breath and slowly let it out - before it was expelled I knew he was dead.

Martha, tears mixing with the rain, stared at me in disbelief as I fell back onto my ass. The paramedics were checking the old man's vitals, but I could see that they held little hope.

Then it was like a thousand voices started to shout into my skull and I saw the wet pavement rushing toward me.

Perhaps it was the smell, but whatever the reason, I knew before I opened my eyes that I was in the hospital. The first thing I saw as I cracked my eyes open was the sight of my mothers tear-streaked face as she looked incredibly upon me. "John... ?"

It was night, or at least dark in the window-less room, with but a single dim lamp in the corner lit.

Mother stood from the uncomfortable looking seat next to my raised bed and leaned over to look into my eyes. "John... how do you feel?" Regardless of the nagging and the constant overbearing control of my life, I loved her, my mother I mean.

I felt weary... not me but strangely coming from mom. At that moment, I could not explain it any better than that.

"What happened?" It came our raspy, my throat was incredibly dry and mom reached to the bedside table to pour me a glass of ice water.

It all came back - the family trip in the car, the strange old man and then the accident. But must of all his words, 'Its yours now'.

I felt mothers incredible relief and could feel her fighting back tears - trying to be strong.

"We don't know... a coma maybe... how do you feel John?"

After the drink my throat started to feel back to normal. "Fine actually." I felt great - like waking from a long sleep - well rested and anxious to start the day.

"How long mom?" She felt fear at answering, wondering if she should tell me - the doctor had warned her about stressing me if I should awake.

How did I know all that?

Knowing she didn't want to tell me and asked her again, this time without words - you know the way teenagers sort of answer questions they did not want to answer by playing zombies.

[Tell me how long mom], I thought.

She answered immediately, "Ten days."

It had to be a joke - but looking at mom, feeling what she felt, I knew this was no joke.

She held the straw to my lips for another drink and let her tears come.

The headaches came that first time when my dad, mom, my younger sister and my older sister and her new husband all visited me on the same day. It was like everyone was shouting at the same time and I tried to cover my ears to no avail - a nurse soon rushed everyone from my room.

Quickly the noise in my head died away.

That nurse, as she stood looking down at my chart, wanted to give me pain killers but was checking my chart first.

Did her husband know she liked to be spanked?

What? Where the hell did that come from.

Martha came into my room in the middle of the night, but I knew who the visitor was before the door opened.

Its been two days since I came out of my 'coma'.

The old woman came over and dragged that big uncomfortable chair next to my bed and sat down.

Then I heard her say, [I'm glad your feeling better John?] She never moved her lips the whole time and I could tell that she was nervous and just a little scared.

"Have you figured out how to filter out the voices yet?" Martha used her mouth this time - which was good, I was starting to think I was loosing my sanity.

I knew what voices she was referring too but how did she know about them, "What voices?"

Without using her mouth, [The voices in your head silly.] She was smiling while thinking this.

It was true wasn't it, I was listening to her thoughts?

Was I going mad?

She softly instructed, [Try looking at my memories... close your eyes and pretend your leafing through my mental photo album.]

What the hell, I closed my eyes and tried to 'see' into Martha's head. It was all so strange... but wonderful too.

Suddenly images came to my mind and I 'saw' the confusion after the crash - Martha screaming at the cars still going by, for someone to stop, cradling her sisters head in her lap, dragging her Master from the disintegrated car... seeing me slip from my knees to my ass and then topple over upon my side as if I were a tree falling.

It was all so surreal.

Martha had been watching me and when I opened my eyes she smiled softly. "How... ?"

[He gave it to you.] She thought while staring at me patiently.

"Who was 'he'? And why are you scared Martha?" I realized I had thought this as well, aiming the thought toward her.

Martha smiled at receiving my question, ['He' was my Master and I am worried you will not want Joelyn or I.] I could feel the truth in her statement.

The first thing Martha taught me was to 'filter' out the voices that I did not want to hear - like we do as children to all the ambient noises around us. It was what caused me to collapse in the first place, what caused my headaches - the large amount of thoughts and feelings from people immediately near me.

It was actually very easy. She told me to visualize some filter - a coffee filter she suggested, and put myself within that filter. Now, if I wanted past the filter to simply aim my thoughts.

In minutes I realized I could no longer hear the small buzzing in my head that I had assumed to be a generator down the hallway. It was actually the other people close to my proximity!

She next told me that neither she nor her younger sister had the power that her ex-Master passed to me, that they were his 'slaves'. Her 'words' not mine.

Finally she explained why I noticed that strange thought about the nurse - about her enjoying spankings. [Humans are sexual beings, one of the most powerful emotions is our sexuality. At a subconscious level, it almost drives who we are. It will often be the first and easiest thing to read about a person. Often the easiest to manipulate.]

After she said that I looked into her mind quickly, into her memories, as she had taught me earlier. I saw her sister Joelyn dancing around in a grass field, wearing only panties, spinning around the blanket where Martha sat. I could feel that this was one of Martha's' most pleasant of memories - decades before.

The final thing she told me that night was the most influential - how to view and manipulate a person's mind.

Sarah nodded soberly, but I could feel her desire to finish the visit with her younger brother and return to her husband at the hotel. Without even looking too closely, I could feel the sexual energy radiating from her.

Since Martha's visit last night I had been practising on each person that came into the room. Listening to their thoughts, browsing through their memories but not confident enough to change any of the personalities that came near me. At that time, I felt that that would be wrong.

It seemed my sister has had an eventful couple of days since her wedding - most of it naked with her husband. I dare not look at her memories, but I could hear her thoughts. Only two hours before she had given her new husband oral sex, he enjoyed it so much, and so, she was anxious to return as he had promised that it was her turn next.

I was actually blushing as my family sat around laughing, and attempting to be gay.

Mom was scared, I could feel her pain at seeing her only son in the hospital - worried I may relapse back into a coma. I could also tell she was angry at Sarah, having asked her to delay the wedding till after I had come out of my 'coma'.

Geri surprised me by being rather sympathetic toward me, she was truly worried about her older brother. Though she sat on the window sill and ignored all of us, I realized there was much more to my sister than I ever realized. To me she had always been the little brat.

Dad - well dad was thankful I was back in form, but was wondering when he could leave to get back to work.

Sarah and her husband flew off for their honeymoon, while Geri and dad drove north, back home.

Mom stayed back for my final day in the hospital, and intended for us to fly back home in a couple of days.

Mothers feelings of the maternal nature were incredibly strong.

Joelyn followed her older sister into my room and I could feel her nervousness. [Hi ladies.] I thought to them.

[Hello John.] They thought back in unison.

Martha sat down in that same chair while Joelyn stood nervously next to it.

I could feel the younger sisters nervousness, and looked into her thoughts enough to realize that she had spent hours pampering herself for her meeting with me but felt there was little chance a teenager would want a fifty-nine year-old slave and her sixty-two year old sister.

Verbally, Martha asked, "Leaving today John?"

I could not contain my pleasure at getting out of this bed and hospital, "Mom will be here in two hours."

The two of them lapsed into silence and it did not take much of an excursion into their minds to see that they wanted to know if I wanted to keep them or not.

I asked Martha silently, [Do you not have any place to go?]

She nodded rather than answer directly and I knew I could read her answer - but even I understood that this was enough of a response.

I had read enough of Martha's mind and memories on her last visit to understand a little of what these two ladies life have been like.

Having been taken from their school when they were still in their teens, they had never known another life but that of their late Master. And though programmed numerous times, he had left enough of their original personalities to leave their individuality. That was a lesson I should take heed of, I thought.

"'He' did not leave you any money or anything?" This was out loud.

Martha, seemingly the dominant of the two, spoke up, "Yes, we have plenty of money." Silently she added, [But without a man to rule us we have no purpose.]

I felt it to be true.

Being in close proximity with one person is dangerous to a teenager with a new toy.

I played back mothers memories, mostly fond thoughts about her children as they grew up.

Mom did not want to fly directly home after getting out of the hospital, rather wanting to give me a couple days of transition. But I knew she was more concerned in keeping me close to the hospital in case I should relapse. I also knew she and dad had a fight about this - he thinking a week in a hotel to be an unnecessary expense.

Looking into the private mind of a person is essentially stripping that facade exterior and looking at the base structure. There was no hiding fear or pain, there was no way even to know you are being 'scanned'. So I did it as if I was watching television - stripping past the facade of a person and enjoying the chronicle of their memories.

Looking into my own mother was like that - initially what I found was expected, a loving and caring mother. She loved her kids unconditionally and worried about them constantly - me more than the girls strangely enough. I also came across distressing images about my mother - her barely contained hate for my father, the lusts of her body.

I shut down within a second of realizing mother was very 'anal'.

The television was on overly loud as I clicked through the channels - mom still in the bathroom having a bathtub.

Last night I had made the revelation of the other side of my mother - the heightening of her desires in the last couple of years, of the pleasures only found by her own hand, and lust of her own ass. It was startling to say the least. To see a woman, my mother, as anything but that parent I've always known her by.

So startled by what I had seen, that I had barely slept the night - and it was rather difficult not to take another peek. Think of it like a book - well written, familiar, but startling - if you put it down you want to immediately pick it back up.

Then I felt a wave of lust... that's not entirely accurate, sexual energy is more concise... it rolled over me.

My thoughts opened up and I allowed that energy to slip through my 'filters'.

Mom!

It was coming from the bathroom, the bathtub. My mother was masturbating.

Without thinking about it, I entered her head. I knew enough not to read her thoughts, that would just be too much for me, but tried to read what she was doing.

It was easy to decipher - mother lay in the half filled bathtub and used both her hands between her legs. I could feel the hard beat of her heart and feel her longing as a finger invaded her anus and two fingers raped her clitoris. She was trying really hard to stifle any sounds, knowing her 'baby' was in the next room.

The energy increased and I was not sure if the panting was my own or mothers.

Somehow I slipped into her thoughts and I read the piece of the fantasy she devoured - the tongue of a faceless man slipping in and out of her bottom, worshipping what she considered her best asset. The man could not contain himself and stroked his hard cock, aiming toward mother. He was getting more aggressive now... !

With my ears, I heard a splash behind the closed door to the bathroom. With my mind's eye, I saw the explosion of passion as it overtook the images in mothers mind and focused her whole being upon the pleasures exploding from between her legs.

Abruptly I turned off my spying and sat panting, my cock hard and pressing my cotton briefs rudely upwards.

It was like nothing had happened, like a normal morning. Mother exited the bathroom with a towel about her head and the hotel-supplied bathrobe about her person. She was talking animatedly at me as she dug out her toothbrush and hair drier from her suitcase.

All I could see was mother like I've never seen her before - she could have been a stranger to my eyes.

When she bent at the waist to plug in the hair dryer I could not help but appraise her teardrop shaped ass, marvelling at the knowledge at her self-pleasure in that part of her. It was... wonderful actually, very well shaped... she should be proud.

I had read her thoughts, I knew mother thought her bottom to be her best physical asset. Thinking about my parent in those terms, I had to agree with her. Her ass or possibly her wide happy smile that I loved so much.

Mom looked over her shoulder while still bent, repeating some mindless question that I had missed, she saw my look and to hide her embarrassment quickly stood up and turned away from me.

Oh shit.

Martha had taught me a lot in so short a time frame. I had learnt that she and Joelyn were lovers, since before being taken by their master as teenagers. I also learnt that sexuality, to the two sisters, was something taken for granted - that if it felt good, did not permanently hurt someone, could not be wrong.

I have to admit that I felt extreme embarrassment when I first discovered Martha and Joelyn's relationship - even seeing some memories within either lady that could only be termed extreme. Don't forget, I am a teenager, a virgin innocent!

Take all that and then add in the voyeur experience of listening to mother masturbate, to actually hear her secret thoughts and desires.

It was embarrassing.

It was also very exciting!

Mother, Jaimie, was thirty-nine years old and I learnt from my peeks into her subconscious that she was terrified of forty.

As she lay on the double bed across from my own, reading the day away, I could not help but read into her mind. I am weak, giving in to that desire for what I've never known - sexuality. Even my own mothers. Perhaps Martha's attitude, the life she had lived, affected me more than I realized. Or maybe I was a horny virgin fourteen year-old stuck in a hotel with only one women within sight and with the power to gain more incite into that woman's sexuality.

Mom masturbated often, I read. At least once per day if she could find private time. She also owned half a dozen assorted dildos and vibrators at home and was feeling a little angry at herself for not, at least, bringing one dildo on this trip.

I read that mom loved cock, loved the early years with dad, their love-making frequent and satisfying. She used to give dad blow-jobs as a prelude to his pressing himself into her. She also loved to kneel before her husband as he pushed in and out of her body, infrequently playing with her tiny hard anus.

Mom lay reading, or half-reading is more accurate, her mind tripping through memories of her own sexual past. I need only peek without delving too deep, to hear her most intimate thoughts. My resolve at mothers private sexual thoughts was crumbling, and each successive look into her became easier and my learnt morals soon forgotten.

She had never had a cock in her ass before, certainly a dildo or a vibrator shaped like a man's prick, and she regretted this. A couple of years before she had asked dad to fuck her in the ass, he flatly refused, disgusted. I could feel mothers humiliation at that memory.

She also wanted to suck a man, to completion, having never tasted seed from the source before. Often her husband would roll off her, sated, she would slip her fingers into herself, drawing out the combined juices and licking them off.

Mother squirmed upon the bed across from me, unknowing I was listening to her, knowing her excitement was building and she was already wondering if she could escape to the bathroom for a couple of minutes to relieve herself.

It took great effort to cut off my ability to look into mom's mind. Sitting across from her at the hotel restaurant, we were both strangely silent.

I knew her to be horny, she had to be, not having the time for another climax before we slipped out for lunch.

"Really mom, I'm fine!"

"John... the doctors have no idea what happened to you... ?" But I did. "... and I want to be certain that you are going to be OK!"

It was the same argument we have had for the last three days, since before I even left the hospital actually. "Dad must be worried about spending too much money mom?"

Even without actively reading her thoughts I suddenly felt a wave of disgust and anger most probably directed toward dad. She took a deep breath and said, "Your more important than money John."

"What about you mom, this can't be too fun for you?" My plate was empty and I was sipping my soft drink as mom finished up her lunch.

She smiled sweetly, full of love, "I love you John, don't worry about me."

I was incredibly horny - the thoughts and naughty images from mother had gotten me to a state of incredible lust. In truth, it had been over a week since I last masturbated - before our trip and I was going to go mad if I didn't do something about it soon. Being in the same room as my horny parent, as I now knew her to be, was making me crazy.

Every time she bent over I looked at her ass, remembering her own thoughts and actions regarding her bum. When she stretched her arms above her head, my eyes would take in the movement of her breasts.

It was becoming so obvious, that anything and I mean anything about her caused me to get excited. Minutes before it had been the slow way she slipped her tongue over her lips, moistening them unconsciously. I had to turn over onto my stomach, hiding my hard teenage prick.

I knew mom was noticing it as well, I read her embarrassment and bewilderment. Yet I also noticed an underlying pleasure at the looks I gave her - she was a woman after all. Mom actually started to wonder if staying together, in the same room, had been a good idea. I also read that she was amused that I should find her mature body attractive enough, and attempted to pass my interest off to teenage hormones - that my eyes will wander to a younger and firmer body as soon as we got out of the hotel.

Then I noticed her thoughts lead a different direction, as she wondered when I last masturbated, guessing I must be doing it in the bathroom as she does.

Four days since I was released from the hospital and mother and I were a pair of sexually heightened animals. I stared at her openly, reading her thoughts generously, and enjoyed what I saw.

Mother found pleasure in my looks, in her ability to excite even her own son - flattered especially since I never failed to look at her ass if the opportunity presented itself to me. She was also masturbating three, yesterday four, times a day since we got to the hotel.