Copyright© 2003

I'd rather have fingers than toes,
I'd rather have ears than a nose,
And a happy erection
Brought just to perfection
Makes me terribly sad when it goes.

The reason James did it was not for profit or for fame - he did it out of laziness and power. Besides it had worked in the past, with other girls that he had seen a weakness, a potential for himself, within. James had used this ability of his, to ensnare and then enslave a woman until he tired of her.

It started, strangely enough, by witnessing his father's treatment of his mother since his earliest memories. In his verbal, and often physical, abuse of her - of her complete submission and even anxious obedience.

Years later, James had fallen in lust over an attractive girl in his class and had the inevitable humiliating rejection that many teens face. Yet this taught him another lesson and the next girl he approached was the quiet one - befriending and learning some of what she feared and some of what she loved, he used this against her to great success, breaking down her defences with his emotional attacks.

Though not a popular boy, he was one of the first of his peers to loose his virginity - though none even knew it. By the time that James graduated he had a stable of girls that he used at his discretion - sexually or otherwise. They, having been truly manipulated by a proved expert, practically worshipped the tall plain-looking young man.

Up to this point in James' life, I could have written several stories about his conquests but it was one particular that stands out from the others. One that truly states how cold a person James can be, how much he craved the power of holding a weaker person at his whim. Yet this story also reveals how the manipulator can also become trapped - so beware!

Strangely enough it was a torn nylon that caused Jame's to take a brief second and truly look at his own mother.

Taking the shop truck, he had rushed home to find his father - he having come home from the garage, which he owned and operated, for lunch - seated in the living room wearing his traditional sneering smirk and a half-drained beer in one hand. His greasy trousers though, were open at the top so that his old man's underwear was plainly seen.

Just at that second his mother enters the room silently, carrying a plate with a fat sandwich upon it. Both parents look at their son surprised at his appearance before the old man chuckles, "A few seconds earlier James and you'd have seen your skanky old mom in action!" He laughed hugely at his own joke, while Jame's mother, Teresa, did not even seem to hear him.

After that comment James did, indeed, notice that his mothers hair was looking messy and her skirt wrinkled. She handed her husband his sandwich and then started to retreat from the room. With his parting words, "Ugly old bitch!"

Nothing out of sorts - at least for this household.

It was at this point in time that James noticed that his mothers tanned nylons had a very wide split up the back of her leg, from her ankle to the hem of her skirt. Perhaps it was the white of her pale flesh or the way she ignored the gash in her nylon and continued to move through her day as if it did not exist - but he felt the rush of adrenaline that comes when he finds a 'mark', a target for his evil designs.

What could be better than a nice juicy cunt right here at home?

So it was the next Friday night that Jame's stayed home - something he had not done for a very long while. You see, the old man was out bowling with some buddies and his mother was alone. It was the only night that his father never failed to not come home before midnight.

Normally, this was Teresa's night alone - usually curled up on the couch reading romance novels. Which she hid from her husband, else he would throw the books into the trash and yell at her for being a flighty whore - one of his latest terms of endearment for his wife of 21 years. Yet she found that her son was staying home, sitting next to her on the couch watching television. She was finding it hard to read her novel and was nervous that James may tell her husband of this Friday night activity.

There was something else that caused her to be a little nervous - her son kept looking at her, his eyes lingering upon her for seconds at a time. It was downright discerning, since he had barely even noticed her since he was out of diapers.

Finally, James muted the television and turned toward his mother whom was trying hard to ignore him. "Mom? Is it true you and dad had sex the other day?"

Hiding behind the pages of her book, the question stunned the woman and she was not sure how to answer.

But James was not waiting for an answer, that humiliation that was her marriage quickly thrusting a dagger into her heart, "I mean, the way he treats you I would think he doesn't even want to touch you?"

Her hands, with the book, fell to her lap and she looked upon her son in silence as she searched for an answer. He was no longer a teenager, just three years from high school and Teresa knew her son was knowledgeable in the ways of girls. Finally words came to her, "We are married James." To her, that answered everything - it was the Holy Grail of responses.

Yet he was not to be deterred, "But you guys don't fuck very often do you?"

She barked out loudly, "James!" Mostly at the use of the word 'fuck', which she tried to keep some type of propriety in her home - at least with her son. Yet, she also did it to hide her embarrassment, as her son's words rang true.

Teresa's husband rarely ever touched her - the lunchtime coupling earlier in the week had been the first time in nearly seven months. And do you want to know the reason that Teresa had been so 'blessed' by her husband, as he liked to call it, was that she had received a monetary grant from her family and had made the mistake of telling her husband that fateful morning. He had rushed home, dropped into his favourite leather chair and told his wife to act like the whore she is and suck him. When he was hard, after a lengthy amount of work on her part actually, he had ordered her to get her old fat ass up and fuck him properly. As she started to straddle her husbands lap, facing him, he had made a disgusted look and told his wife to turn the other way while he fucked her so that her ugly face won't scare his hard-on away. He fucked her while drinking his beer, shot a load up inside her and then grunted something about making a sandwich. When he went back to work with their son that day, he had her grant check in his back pocket with her authorization signature upon it. That was the last she had seen of it.

James softened his voice - "Sorry mom... its just that I don't understand him!"

That stilled her anger and she could not disconcert what her son did not understand about his father. Finally she had to ask, "What don't you understand James?" She had tried to use a maternal stern voice, as it seemed appropriate, but was unsuccessful. Teresa had never been a good mother, never been able to take control of her son, let alone of her own home.

"Its nothing mom." He turned the sound back on the television effectively ending the conversation. After contemplating her son's words for several minutes brought she her book back up but for the life of her could not concentrate enough to read a single sentence.

Though she wanted to ask James what he did not understand about his father, she could not find the words as she felt a spark within her at what she unconsciously hoped was the answer. Instead she dropped her book and asked loudly, over the sound of the television program, "Why are you not out on a date honey?" Her son had a constant flow of women in his life, often disappearing for most of the weekend with one of a half dozen that she knew by name.

James muted the television and turned to his mother again, "Because I wanted to spend more time with you."

The answer took Teresa by surprise and she starred into her son's eyes for a lengthy amount of time - trying to see if he was attempting to be malicious, as she knew he had some of his father in him. Yet she could not read him at all.

Finally, she echoed, "You wanted to spend more time with me?"

He laughed lightly, "Yea, is that a crime or something?"

Teresa frowned, trying to consider what her son was trying to get. "No, its not a crime. It is just that you were never before interested in what went on in this house?"

Her son turned serious for a second and hung his head, as if he was ashamed, "Your right mom - but that is going to change starting today."

Now she was truly confused, "Change how?"

James caught his mothers eye yet again, "You just don't understand do you mom?"

She nodded her head negatively.

His hand reached out, and Teresa flinched when she mistook her son's intentions, and gently took one of her own in his grasp. It was an alien touch to her - gentle and understanding. "I love you mom and I can not stand how he treats you as he does."

She felt as if she was drunk and heard herself ask, "Treats me?" Teresa kept her son's gaze even though her eyes started to water up.

James shrugged and withdrew his hand, "I may not be able to stop how he treats you mom, only you can do that, but I can treat you the way you should be."

Again that small voice, "Should be?" Only through great will power did she not break down and sob - she had suppressed her emotions for so many years that the admission that someone else may sympathize with her predicament caused a small rift in her hard outer shell.

He smiled softly, "Like the beautiful woman that you are mother."

James could see the battle within his mother and though he may not understand it he knew it was how his wars are won.

He turned off the television and then suddenly stood, "I'm going up to my room to read mom. But first, I'll draw you a hot bath and light a candle - why don't you read your book up there?"

Without even waiting for an answer James withdrew into the darkness of the night, a triumphant smile upon his face and he knew this round went to him.

Over the next couple Friday's were their time, mother and son. They would sit at the table or curled up at either end of the large couch and simply talk. Well, Teresa talked and James asked the questions. He asked questions that may surprise some people - what is your favourite colour, white, what is your favourite time of year, the fall, as examples. After weeks of this, the questions went onto his mothers childhood - asking all sorts of questions until Teresa anxiously awaited each Friday and felt a desire to open up completely with her son, to tell him everything as best she could.

The fact that he was interested in her was amazing in itself, the fact that he openly told her he loved her now was simply heart-altering. Throughout her life Teresa had neither shown nor received any kind of affection - this was true, most assuredly days after her marriage. That is not to say that she did not crave love, but that it had never been shown her and she felt she was not deserving nor privileged enough to have any. Her son had grown up ignoring her and her husband... well, her husband treated her better in the last years, since he no longer forced her to have sex and stopped, for the most part, hitting her. He said she was not worth the effort.

Don't mistake her resentment to have sex, Teresa was a very sexual person. It was just that when with her husband, even on their marriage night, he used her like a slab of meat. Her pleasure did not matter and he loudly voiced his disgust at her performance, her body... everything. The only sexual pleasure Teresa had found in her life, was with her own hands and mind - and only in the last years as the burning desire between her legs has heated up considerably compared to her teens or twenties.

Teresa had a lot of questions for her son, but could not find the courage to ask. Rather she glowed with a strange-unknown pleasure at Jame's attentions toward her.

Then, one Friday long after they had sat down on the couch, James gently asked, "Why do you always wear skirts mom?"

The question embarrassed her but she had long since resolved to be honest and open with her son, wanting to please him and to keep these very precious moments between them. "Your father told me long ago to only ever wear dresses or skirts."

Strangely, at least to the parent, James nodded in agreement. "You do have great legs mom."

She felt her face turning crimson with embarrassment, a feeling that was rare in her emotionally-submissive life. "I do?" Teresa never received any sort of compliments - especially about her body.

Still nodding, "Definitely!" Then he frowned lightly, "Maybe you should wear jeans next week mom."

Rather weakly she found herself echoing her son's words yet again, "Jeans?"

"Yea. After dad leaves, put on jeans for our talk - he will never know!"

Teresa felt horrified in doing such a blatantly rebellious thing when her son added, "But make sure they are just tight enough to show off your great legs and waist mom!"

James broke out laughing while Teresa sat stunned by her son's comments. After a short while she felt the bubble of her humour escape from her lips and she laughed with her son though she had no idea why.

"Turn around slowly mom."

Teresa had her eyes closed as she slowly turned about, feeling her son's admiring gaze upon her.

James looked at the old, out of style, jeans that his mother wore and suppressed a smirk. It was too easy he thought, she was like putty in his experienced hands.

When she completed the turn Teresa opened her eyes and asked, "May I sit down now James?"

Without hesitation, "Of course mom! I'm sorry if I embarrassed you?"

She quickly slide into the hard wood chair across from her son, at the kitchen table, thankful that her denim clad legs were hidden from her son's eyes. Teresa tried to hide her embarrassment, "I think the jeans are too tight?" They were - it had take some great effort to get them buttoned up. She could imagine she could feel her son's eyes still upon her thighs and bottom like a physical touch.

James reached across the table and took one of his mothers hands in his own and softly said, "The pants looks fabulous on you mom." He withdrew his hand and off handedly stated, "If you want to change back into that old skirt I don't mind mom?"

Teresa could hear the disappointment and coldness in her son's final words and it scared her - she could not bare loosing their Friday nights together. Rather hastily she replied, "No! I mean not if you don't want me too honey?"

He caught her nervous and fearful eye, reading her to perfection and paused just long enough until she felt as if she was loosing him. "That would be great mom!" Her son's wide smile returned and he changed tack, "Now tell me...", he looked up at the ceiling as if thinking, "... what was the best Christmas gift you ever received?"

A small smile came to her face, genuinely happy to talk to her son about anything he wanted. The fact that he wanted to know of her more pleasant of memories only seemed to heighten her pleasure. She drew a evergreen tree upon the table top with her index finger as she thought back to her pre-teen years... then she started to tell all.

The photo binders were covered in dust and for the fifth time since she had brought out the box, she apologized for the mess it made of their hands and laps. An ancient black binder sat upon her denim covered thighs, open to pictures of a cute little girl and a small dog.

"What was the dog's name mom?"

Teresa laughed lightly, her eyes glazed over as she thought back to happier times. "Benji!"

James laughed with her, more so about the way things were proceeding than about some mutt over thirty years ago.

At first the mother felt uncomfortable with the outer side of one full leg pressed against her son - let alone seated so close to him. Yet, he seemed not to even notice - indeed, he seemed to enjoy the closeness. In truth, after being reassured of its innocence, the closeness felt good as well, if alien.

"Its your favourite song mom!"

It was. It had been revealed weeks ago - a song from a different life. Teresa did not feel comforted though, only saddened.

But then her son held out his arms and nodded for his mom to come to him.

She could not believe what James was proposing, it caused her face to redden and her knees to weaken. She hadn't danced since her wedding - and then it was with her new and very drunk husband. And she had never danced to this song, a lengthy mushy song that was her private romantic waltz in her later teen years and even into the early married years.

Teresa found herself walking into her sons arms and she felt him wrap his arms about her torso. She suddenly felt relaxed and allowed her body to melt into her son's taller body and into his hard chest, her face pressed against his hard bosom so that she could hear the pounding of his heart.

James smiled widely, feeling his mom almost collapse in his arms - feeling her sigh deeply into his chest. His feet barely moved but his arms soothed his mothers back slowly, almost in time to the music that he could barely stand.

Women, he knew were so mushy - favourite song's, tales of teenage heartache and happy memories of stupid family outings. True his mother had fewer pleasant thoughts than his other conquests - those few memories were only made stronger and sweeter to her consciousness.

Yet, the ease that she had opened herself to her son, as if she were desperate for some affection, attention - reinforced his resolve to enslave his own mother to his whim.

Of the women and girls that James had controlled over the years, he had found himself enjoying the most mature of his ladies. He had many theories about this, part of their being familiar and unafraid of their own bodies or their almost desperate desire for sex, as well as the pleasure of their enjoying a younger man whom found them attractive and even the threat of his leaving for a younger and prettier girl. Show a old girl some attention and they seemed to fawn over you - James laughed to himself.

Abruptly the song ended and mother and son found themselves embraced in the middle of the silent living room.

James was the first to break the embrace, holding his mother at arms length from him. While Teresa was looking up, doe-like, at her only son. "I love you mom."

"Thank you for this James." Her eyes started to water up and her chin trembled.

"Can I kiss you?"

Teresa felt nothing, stunned perhaps, and no answer was forthcoming before her son leaned forward and down. She watched her son as his lips pressed against her own and she became aware that her heart was thumping so violently that it was almost painful.

Then he pulled back again, his hands dropping to his side, and laughed lightly.

She watched him turn to the stereo while feeling still shocked, replaying that quick kiss over and over in her head. Teresa told herself that it was only her son's love that instigated the kiss, a kiss of a son for his ageing mother. She convinced herself that she was acting stupid - they had been having many weeks of pleasure, talking to each other - there was nothing wrong with what had just happened.

What may puzzle even her son was that she had not been kissed in years, her husband always said her lips were only good for one thing - blowing dicks. That this first kiss in many years felt good - very good. After she convinced herself that it was innocent she allowed the pleasure to flow through her body like a warm wave of love.

James turned after removing the old forty-five from the rarely-used record player and looked upon his mother - seeing a transformation come over her. He had let his chaste kiss linger just a few seconds longer than propriety would allow a mother and son and he saw the pleasure written upon her face after the moments hesitation.

This was just too easy, he thought.

His mother held the gift wrapped box as if it was a bomb, "Honey?"

"Just open it mom!"

Teresa was not used to getting gifts of any kind, let alone when there was no occasion. She allowed her years-long learnt trepidation submerge beneath her child-like pleasure. A wide smile appeared upon her face and her hands shook the box.

She laughed as she set it down on the kitchen counter and ripped it rapidly open - seeing the clothing inside. "James!"

Teresa yanked it from the box and she saw that it was a stylish blue denim. Her laugh was loud and happy.

"Though I like how sexy you look in your old jeans mom, I thought you would like something newer?"

"Oh honey... its perfect!" Teresa noticed that it was one size too small, but it would still fit better than her old denims that she had been struggling into for her son these last weeks. She even craved when her son told her how sexy he thought she was and how it made her feel lightheaded, desired.

"There is more mom, look in the bottom of the box?"

Teresa paused and peered into the bottom of the box and saw a small tissue covered garment. She retrieved it and pulled at the wrapping and then held it frozen with a single finger and thumb - her laughter already forgotten.

It was a white lace thong.

James laughed and explained, "No more panty lines mom!"

Awkwardly, "Thank you honey."

In all her years, Teresa had never owned a single item of lingerie - never wore anything so skimpy or transparent. Was it proper for a son to buy his mother skimpy underwear? The old ingrained self-defence cold feeling crept into her heart.

His laughter died away and she turned to look at her only son and saw that he looked almost angry.

"If you don't like it mom, I'll take it back?"

Teresa saw his anger, his displeasure, and perhaps his impatience and it scared her more than anything in her life. To have lived her life for so many years submerging her emotions, accepting the physical and emotional abuse without a word and then to find someone that loved her for herself... she felt horror at her blunder. Of course it was OK that he should give her clothing, yes even underwear, that he thought would only heighten her attraction, her visual appearance. He not only wanted to spend time with her, but he wanted to spend time with, what her son must regard, a comely woman. While she doubted her own attractiveness, she found a certain adolescent pleasure in her son's obvious interest in her.

Teresa told herself, yet again, that his interest was only innocent - that she had seen some of his girlfriends and knew she would never compete physically with any of them.

So, her initial reaction at seeing the thong was quickly overpowered by her resolve that she loved her son and that she was acting like some over-the-hill prude.

"No honey... its just... well, I have never worn anything so..."

"Sexy?"

She nodded her head up and down, "... yes, sexy. Thank you James." Teresa forced a smile to her face and stepped up to her son, letting her head drop back and puckering her lips to thank him with a kiss.

It had turned into something mother and son did each Friday night - just as he told her he loved her, they kissed. Closed mouth, hot moist lips, the lingering kisses that caused Teresa to feel lightheaded and, if standing, knock-kneed.

James held his mother against him, looking down into her face after the kiss. "Why don't you run up and put on my gifts mom?"

Teresa could see the anxious pleasure in her son's gaze and though she felt nervous she forced a smile and nodded her acceptance.

On uncertain knees, she turned and walked to her room where she tried not too think too much as she put on the alien-feeling white lace thong - instantly feeling cheap and ridiculous in the skimpy lingerie. The jeans, though, were something different - they were a little snug of course, being a size too small, but they felt much better than her old denim. Quickly, before returning to her son in the kitchen, she checked herself out in the mirror and was surprised at how attractive her legs, hips and ass looked in her new garments.

James whistled playfully as his mother reappeared, an embarrassed happy smile appearing on her face. But it was obvious to her son that his mom was pleasantly surprised and pleased.

Taking hold of his mothers shoulders in each hand, James held her steady as he openly appraised his gifts.

Teresa allowed herself to be spun and held so that her back was facing her son. She could barely contain her pride as she knew her son was happy, that she did indeed look good in his gift. She only paused, mentally, when she felt a light touch upon the curve of her bottom, feeling it slowly move down to the top of one thigh before disengaging. Then, before she could think any more about that touch James spun her again and wrapped his arms about her for a firm loving hug.

Still holding his mother, James whispered into his mom's ear, "I was wrong mom... I thought your legs were your best feature, but I think its your bottom!"

The comment paused her thoughts until he pushed her back to arms length before him and laughed with pleasure. Teresa allowed her pleasure to resurface after the moments respite.

"Lets go into the living room and sit down and talk mom!" James rushed, pulling his mother behind him by the hand.

She felt like the luckiest woman alive suddenly, to be so loved, as she looked forward to the rest of their Friday evening together. It was like something out of one of her romantic novels.

Already that lingering touch upon her ass moments before was forgotten.

The old truck's engine cut out leaving a thick silence that seemed to fill her ears. Rarely did Teresa go out except to go grocery shopping or to do chores. This trip, though, she felt positively naughty. They had driven to a take-out place and ate the ice cream in silence - her son barely talking this evening. Teresa did not talk either, she just sat silently feeling like a kid again - happy.

Then there was her son's latest gift - an expensive pair of high heels that, when she put them on, along with her first gifts, her son had asked her to walk about the room so as to watch her intently. She had done it, of course - feeling brave and loved.

"Why don't you scoot over here mom?"

The truck was one of her husbands, or more correctly one of the garages - but her son always had the use of one of the vehicles from the shop any time he wanted. It had wide, worn through leather, bucket seats that squeaked when she slide into the middle position.

"Closer mom - I don't bite."

That nervous cold feeling was returning but Teresa immediately did as her son asked - until her whole side was pressed to his own.

James brought his arm up and wrapped it about his mothers shoulders and leaned down to kiss the side of her face, upon her cheek. "Great view huh mom?"

"Its gorgeous honey." It was. This spot overlooked their home town - and the lights of the night, along with the silence, was calming.

He whispered into her ear, "Not as gorgeous as you mom."

Though she knew it was wrong and alarm bells were going off in her head, she felt herself swoon at her son's words, feeling comforted whenever in his arms.

James could feel his mom tense beneath his arm before relaxing into him and he smiled to himself - she was so predictable.

They sat in silence for a very long while and though Teresa watched the sights outside the trucks window, she had to fight from looking up at her son's handsome but rugged face. Loving him like her heart had not loved before.

She was again feeling uncertain about Jame's intentions, when she felt his arm stretch upon her shoulder and his hand grasp her small breast gently. Stunned, her unspoken questions seemed to have been answered and she could not find the words to stop the descent of her heart. As she had to order her feelings down, as it was wrong what her son was doing.

"James... ?"

"Hush mom, just enjoy the sights!"

Surprising, even to James, his mother had not moved or verbally lashed out at his behaviour. She had not even removed his hand from her breast. This was not his plan at all - so he gently started to stroke his mothers breast in his large hand. Soon her nipple was pressing into his palm as it hardened and her breathing was becoming laboured.

After nearly thirty minutes of mauling her single breast, James removed his hand and arm from about his mother and started the old beat up truck. Silently he drove down the dark bumpy hill, while his mother still sat with her body pressed against him - but her arms had folded over her chest almost protectively.

Some time later, after the silent drive, they returned back home - his father's truck still not back from his night out with his buddies.

Mother and son entered the darkened house and before she could retreat to the sanctuary of her room her son called gently, "Mom come here please?"