Copyright© 2000-2003

The nipples of Sarah Sarong
When excited are twelve inches long
This embarassed her lover
Who was pained to discover
She expected no less of his dong

Throughout my senior year at school, I have been having problems. Its not my grades that I'm having troubles with - in fact I barely do any effort and get honours for all of my classes. No - its that I have absolutely no one to talk with, at home or school. I'm not kidding!

At home, my mom and I used to be close, doing things on the weekends, going out nights for supper - but it seems like she is purposely avoiding me.

At school, the guys that used to be my friends all seemed to be embarrased to be around me. And everywhere I went, it felt like all the other kids eyes were on me, laughing behind my back.

I'm going nuts right? That's what I thought.

There is only one person that I have a normal conversation with - its Mr. Gerald, my math teacher. I don't mean we are friends or anything, but he seems immune to the snickers of my peers or the distant looks from my other teachers. At first I thought Mr. Gerald was gay, but soon came to realize that he had no designs upon my skinny teenage body. Thank god, is all I have to say on that!

Yet, he often stopped in the hallway between classes to ask me how I was doing - if I saw some show the other evening or even if everything was all right. I was actually looking forwards to Mr. Gerald's couple of minutes of conversation per day - that was how desperate I have become.

So, other than that one adult that talked to me infrequently, I had absolutely no one to talk with. And I mean no one!

I would come home from school - make supper for mom and I, though she would most often come home late and take her supper into her room with barely a word of thanks, sit down to do my home work, and then crash and watch television. Oh, months ago I would have tried to call up a buddy, that I've probably known since we were kids, but I don't bother anymore. No one wanted to talk with me or be around me.

Maybe I smell? That was supposed to be a joke - sure its not very funny, but there had to be some reason why I'm an outcast within a town of only thirty thousand.

Mom came speeding down the stairs, as I sat watching some stupid sitcom, after a call five minutes before, and mumbled something about problems at work and being late as she rushed out of the house. I didn't even get a chance to lift my head from the pillow or to say goodbye. And this was not an unusual occurrence, mother often worked extensive hours - which I thought she used as a refuge to hide from her only son.

None of it made sense, but then I have stopped trying to figure it out - though I have yet to accept it, else I may go made with frustration.

When I finally got my ass off the couch, it was to get a glass of milk from the kitchen. I saw mom's dirty dishes by the sink and sighed, more fucking dishes to do before bed time. Once I rebelled by not cleaning up after mom and I - but when I woke the next mornings after being a pig, the kitchen was back in order - she had come down from her room to clean up while I slept.

What the hell was wrong with me any ways?

I went to my room, thinking about searching the net for some porn - I'm still a teenage guy after all! With every girl at school snickering and ignoring me, all I had was my hand and the smut from the Internet.

Mom had rushed out of the house so fast that she had left the door to her room partially open - something she never did. Her room, as was my own, was her sanctuary - and we respected each others privacy. I didn't immediately think about it, till I was laying back in my bed catching my breath from the hasty orgasm that a series of pictures of some big titted blonde babe had given me. I zipped my jeans back up and was going to return to the family room for more stupid television, when I noticed the door yet again.

I know what mom's room looked like, of course, but for some reason I looked in. She had a large room, with a queen sized bed as its centre piece - the desk with a laptop and books beneath the large window towards the backyard. The other side of the room had another window, always shaded, which faced the front of the house, and had a large walk in closet next to it.

It was a little messy, yesterdays skirt and blouse still at the base of the bed, white cotton soiled panties by the door to her private bathroom. The bed unmade. The walk in closet door was open and the light was still on. Her briefcase open with books and papers half organized about her desk and the floor around the chair. The dresser, by the hallway door, had the usual assortment of feminine articles, brushes and jewelry, freshly clean panties and bras. It also had that smell - mom's scent, perfume and dust. She barely ever cleaned in here, I should guess.

It was all so unexceptional and I was about to return to the television when I realized her laptop was still turned on. The back-light had turned the monitor off but I saw the tiny amber indicator revealing that it was still on. Mother was crazy about her laptop - telling me it held confidential documents for work, and she could be fired and sued if any of its contents ever leaked out. If she was fanatical about anything at all in life, it was that damn laptop, she never went to work without it and I was forbidden to even talk with her when she sat before it.

You see, another method for her to ignore me - open up the laptop and by her rules, I had to keep out of the same room as her.

I'm not fucking crazy I swear to you... but it sure started to feel like it.

I then broke mothers cardinal rule and touched the shift button upon the laptops keyboard. Confidential or not, who could I tell - no one will talk to me!

Her screen flashed on and I saw that her mail client was open, an email centred on the screen.

Big deal. I was just about to turn about to again return to my boring and lonely life when I noticed only one word in the email body, "stockings".

Huh?

I leaned over to read the small text more clearly. "'... wear black stockings slut. I will call you tonight around six thirty and tell you where to go.'"

"'Slut'"! Slut?

Who would call my mother such a thing? Hadn't there been a call, just before mom ran out of here... around six or six thirty I think?

It was all that was shown on the screen - the email was not even signed. I scrolled up to the head of the message. "'You are a good girl Teri, '" my mothers first name, "'all the boys enjoyed you very much. I have another appointment for you whore - two girls that you've partied with before want an encore. They want you to... '"!

What did all this mean - was my mother a hooker or something? No! What about her job as a manager at the government small business development bank - she had worked so hard to excel in the job. I know she worked there - I had to drop off a request form from school to her only last week. Then maybe mother was a part-time hooker? It was within the realm of possibility, though incredulous.

Wow.

You think you know someone... ! No, this just wasn't possible - my mom selling her body. "'... all the boys... two girls... '"? She was doing orgies and lesbian stuff too? No way!

I sat down when I realized my heart was pounding very fast.

Mother was forty years old this year and though she was well preserved, she did not look like a teenager any longer. She looked like a uptight middle-aged professional woman. Hell - she never even dressed provocatively! Sure I noticed that her breasts were rather on the large side, her ass, though generous, was very nice, her legs shapely and still appealing especially when wearing nylons and her face normally very pleasant - I'm a teenage guy for fucks sake!

Mother had been gone nearly every night - working late she said, working on what she didn't add. Most often I was asleep when she got home, and if I wasn't, I knew she would come home and immediately head to her room and have a long hot shower. Not reappearing till she dressed and ran from the house to get to work, at the government, the very next morning.

Mom was a hooker? Couldn't be - I could not place any of the common things I assumed about a whores life into my own mother. Hell, she was well paid at work, why would she need to supplement it from selling her body?

Fuck - what a thought. Could she really be doing such a thing?

I mean the email stated that the 'guys' enjoyed her - more than one! Two or three? More? And two other 'girls' wanted an 'encore', which meant she had met them previously. Could she do those things? You know what I'm talking about... those, sex things?

I stood up and moved to her walk in closet, several days worth of clothing lay upon the floor, including the outfit that she had worn when she came home today. That means she changed into something else before rushing out of here. 'Stockings' maybe?

Mother in stockings - thigh high, and 'black' - it would indeed look good on her shapely legs.

I looked around some more - her normal skirts and blouses, rows of many different types of shoes. Then I realized, no pants - jeans, sweats let alone work slacks. None. Only dresses. Though I remember her often wearing jeans about the house, I haven't seen her do this for a very long time.

Quickly withdrawing from the closet I pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and saw two untidy piles of panties, all cotton but of variety of colours, and the other of socks. The next drawer had waist high nylons and bras. Nothing too outrageous, though I didn't look too thoroughly.

The next one had a denim bag that barely fit in the drawer - it was well worn, probably before I was born. Inside I found an assortment of panties, stockings and other female lingerie that I had no idea what they were for - and they were either new, and still in the original store package, or barely worn. There was only two colours, black and white - some with lace some without. I couldn't actually imagine what she looked like in any one garment in that bag - it just wasn't my perception of mother.

I'm not certain of the extent of it - but mother had a secret life that I had known absolutely nothing about!

I stood there looking about her room and began to think - if this was my room and I wanted to hide my dirty magazines, where would I do it. Under the bed of course - she had a large hard wood framed bed, that appeared to sit upon the floor - but didn't. It had these short inch high legs that held the solid wood from the floor but gave the appearance of laying flat. It would be the perfect spot to hide something from prying eyes.

I knelt down upon the floor and placed my cheek on the hard wood to peer under the inch gap - there was several things beneath there, which I couldn't make out.

Mother wasn't a big woman, and wasn't strong enough to lift the bed so there had to be another way under it. Feeling around, I felt it - the board for the frame that sat closest to the wall behind was missing - it left a wide gap beneath the bed. It was invisible from nearly any angle within the room - good hiding spot.

Reaching beneath the bed, my long arm could reach everything that she had hidden there - I felt a couple of large envelopes and a small cardboard box. I pulled the box out first.

I sat there with the dusty brown shoe box on my lap, moms messy bed about me, suddenly wondering if I wanted to know more about her private life than I had already discovered. It was certainly a shock - but it was still her private life, none of my business.

Then I remembered when I held up that lace patterned white stocking and thought that mom's leg would look very sexy in it - I knew that something inside me was different. Gone was the guilt when I caught myself watching her breasts or staring at her ass as she bent over - now, I wanted to look upon her to see her in a more sexy light. That's right, for the first time, mother was not the woman who gave birth to me and whom I should respect and honour, but a mature sexy woman whom I suddenly discovered within my own home.

Did any of that make sense?

No? Then try this, I suddenly felt lust for my very own mother. Most certainly a distant innocent lust - I simply wanted to peek into an attractive woman's sexual life.

Sick - maybe there is something wrong with me, perhaps that's why I don't have any friends any more?

Fuck it. I yanked off the lid and threw it behind me. Inside was an assortment of objects, some had obvious usage, others I had no idea. The most obvious was a six inch long tube that was shaped like a guys dick - it was made of some type of rubber or composite and had an obvious use. Handcuffs? A single ping pong paddle! Six one inch balls all tied to the same long thread. More... stranger items if you can believe that.

I dropped the box and rushed to reach for the envelops beneath the bed, there were several so I only brought out three.

Each was stapled shut but I could care less and ripped them open, one at a time.

If there was any doubt of my mothers alter life it was gone when I looked upon the first picture. Then the next and the next, dozens in that first envelope. It was of her and another woman, much younger - hell maybe even my own age, and some older guy. Mother wore nothing, not even a smile I realized. She sucked the guy's cock, licked the girls pussy, fingered her own hairless cunt and licked the guys come off the girls near-flat chest. The girl was a senior in my school - Melissa something - popular and a certified bitch. The guy never showed his face.

The next envelope was mostly of mom getting fucked, from several angles and from at least seven different dicks. No guys faces, only mom. The last pictures were of her kneeling inside a circle of cocks as the guys stroked themselves to orgasm upon my mothers face. She wore sheer white stockings that were soiled by the end of the photo shoot and I realized that those two stockings were also in the envelope - and obviously still soiled. I could not bear to touched them.

The next envelope didn't contain any sex, but of my mother collared and leashed being lead around someones house. Pictures of her licking from a water bowl on the floor to being curled up next to a large dog outside, it was dark out by the way. It showed her peeing in the corner of a large yard as a faceless man and the same dog watched from the edge of the picture. It also showed mom getting spanked over a guys lap, her ass bright red and her face pain-filled with tear-stained cheeks. The leash and collar were also within the envelope.

It was all strewn about moms messy bed - evidence of her demented alter-lifestyle. Oh sure, I checked out pictures on the net of babes licking other babes, guys getting their dicks sucked off by some big titted babe and even of teenage girls showing pink - but I've never seen stuff like I saw in the pictures with mom.

It was all so... base. The lowest... that was my mother. Maybe she was a 'whore' but something was certain, she was a 'slut' for sure!

There were other envelopes, but I didn't even bother.

What guys had she been fucking - what girls? She had been having sex with a schoolmate in one set of pictures - did she fuck anything?

I sat for hours in her room, looking through those three sets of pictures again and again. Dumping the contents of her lingerie back on the bed and looking at each garment individually, imagining her wearing these items for someone. Those sex toys didn't look new, and I studied even the ones I didn't understand - she had used these, probably orgasmed with them inside her body. They had no smell, as they had been washed - I wasn't even ashamed to admit I smelt the dildo and the balls-on-a-string.

My mind was a blur.

I read through her email - not finding another message from the anonymous email account. I then searched her hard drive and found nearly three hundred images - each of her doing some act with a cock, a dildo or a cunt. I stopped after the fortieth picture. Did I really need to see more?

What was wrong with me anyway - I'm a virtual outcast to the rest of the town and my own mother was a slut. Was it something that I did or didn't do?

How long has this been going on?

I lay back on the bed, all the evidence of her base behaviour about and beneath me. How long I stared at the ceiling, I have no idea - but I closed my eyes for only a moment, I swear.

"Oh my god!" I had fallen asleep!

Mother!

I bolted upright, suddenly deathly ashamed and embarrased. My mom stood just inside her doorway starring aghast at the scene before her.

"Mom... I can explain!"

She didn't even hear me, but instead was staring at the objects and pictures upon the bed. Then I did something that was immature of me, I bolted past her out of the room and into my own.

I lay in bed, barely breathing as I attempted to listen to her movements. I could hear nothing till her private shower started - and it never stopped for over thirty minutes. Looking at the clock, I'm amazed that it was already midnight.

A knock at my door - soft and barely noticeable!

"Danny? Please honey?" The second knock is louder.

I just sit and watch it, my limbs not moving. Did I even want to talk with her - who had ignored me for months and whom I thought I knew until tonight?

A third knock and then the door slowly opens and mom sticks her head in, "Dear?"

Mother was an attractive woman, short stylish red hair (not natural), with petite and pleasant facial features - but right now I saw that her eyes were puffy and blurred. I knew she had been crying quite a lot since she had gotten home.

"Can I come in Danny?" It was politely asked, but I knew better than to tell her to leave. Not only did I want to know why she did those things in the photos, I wanted simply to talk with someone - loneliness is a terrible thing.

The nod was enough and she slipped into my room, wearing her large comfortable old white bathrobe and slippers. She pulled my desk chair about and sat in it - facing me.

Neither of us spoke for some time, and I never looked above her feet.

"I never wanted you to find out honey."

Find out? That she was a fucking slut! My very own mother, could she not wait a couple more years till I left for college before she succumbed to whatever urges sluts have... ?

She started to cry with big sobs and hands over her face. I looked up at her and saw that she was truly distressed.

She gasped between sobs, "I never wanted it to end like this!"

What to end?

I again felt great guilt - I had invaded mothers private space, broken her rules, and in the process, found out something about her that I should never have known. If there was anyone at fault, it was me. Was it my business if mom was a slut or even a whore or not? And my inquisitiveness at peeking into her sexuality was gone - I had been a voyeur and I just didn't like how it made me feel right now.

"I'm sorry mom."

That brought a single tear red eye from between her fingers - "Sorry?"

Yea, sorry.

I simply sat there and let her cry for several more minutes till the tears all but dried up. Though I felt like shedding my own at that moment.

When the silence was again thick, "Are you a hooker mom?"

She laughed softly, surprise in her eyes, and with no humour, "Oh my god honey... no I am not!"

For some reason that made me feel better - that she should spread her legs for pleasure and not for money. Strange isn't it?

"Then you do work downtown..."?

"... for the BDC, yes dear I do."

It was all turning out so civil... while it was all so awkward.

I remembered the sound of the shower and then the email that I had read, she had been out on a date (or whatever you call it) earlier and needed to clean herself before coming to talk with me. I remember a brief glimpse of her messy hair and weary shocked face as I had rushed past her earlier.

"How did you find the stuff under my bed honey?"

"The door was open mom - and there was a message still on your laptop... !" I just admitted that I broke her cardinal rule - never to touch her laptop.

She never even lifted an eyebrow, which surprised me.

We sat there, across from each other, not knowing what to say but feeling like something should be said. I wondered what could be said between us - maybe, "I'm a slut honey and I hope your okay with that?" I doubt it.

Her eyes began to again water, "I am so ashamed. What must you think of me Danny?"

I think your a slut mother. I just had to ask though, "Why are you ashamed mom?" It came out as barely a whisper.

She looked amazed at me then in an angry voice said, "Because of what that pig makes me do!"

Mom must seen the confusion in my eyes and we both realized at the same moment that neither of us understood what the other was talking about. "You really don't know Danny?" Her eyes watered like a fountain yet again, "Then you thought I was just a... ?"

If you are not a slut, that's what its called mother, then what the hell is going on? "What didn't I know mom?" I realized my voice had come out a little harsh. "What 'pig'?"

Her hands again hid her face as the crying turned to sobs and she waled out, "I did it all for you dear!"

She spread her legs for me - that is absurd! Then maybe for this 'pig' guy then?

I noticed the robe had parted a little I saw the flesh of her pale white legs to mid thigh - for some reason it bothered me. But why should it, I had studied photos of mothers naked body and loins only a couple of hours before?

Another five minutes she again dropped her hands to her lap, noticing the open robe but not closing it I realized, and looked back into my eyes. She forced her breathing to settle down before she again spoke, "George Gerald is forcing me to do things." I saw what type of 'things' she meant - there had been stockings soiled and saved in one of the envelopes that revealed what type of 'things' she had been doing.

That was the name of my teacher - the only person in the world that would even talk with me. I had to have heard incorrectly!

"He asked me out about four months ago and it was nice", mother was always a prude even after so blatant evidence to the contrary, "but I told him it had to end." She took a deep breath before continuing - I knew this is where it was going to get graphic and mother needed some inner strength to reveal it to her only child. "I told him at a barbecue at his house and he just smiled and handed me a glass of iced tea... then I woke up tied to his bed and he was raping me."

Mothers eyes began to water yet again.

Was this all true?

Of course it had to be - why else would all of these be so absurd to me if she had not been forced to change her lifestyle. It painted a picture of reality to what I have learned this evening.

"He took pictures and laughed when he kicked me out of his house. Then I received an email with one of the pictures, it was very graphic." I saw mother was white-knuckled as she clenched her thighs. "He promised that he would make sure you would find out what a slut your mother was if I didn't keep seeing him." Another deep breath. "I only went back to his house to break it off for good and to threaten him with a lawsuit, but he beat me that afternoon - raping me again and forcing me to take even more pictures."

The tears were gone and mothers head was high, her eyes though spoke of her humiliation and subjugation by my teacher, the final part came out, "At first it was just him, then he forced me to have sex with other people, many of them his students. He made rules up as he felt like it and threatened that you would find out about it if I didn't go along willingly."

It made sense. Even my loneliness these last months made sense; mother had been too humiliated to be around me and the other kids at school, many of whom had probably had sex with my own mother, were laughing and talking about it behind my back.

I had to test her I'm sorry to admit, "Was there a rule about pants?" I remembered this from my first inspection into mothers closet.

She nodded, "I was always to wear skirts or dresses, no pants or leggings of any kind."

"And Tommy Gennings?" My best friend since grade three, one of the many people that now treated me like a leper.

She nodded and her eyes again watered up, "Tommy and his brother...".

"This evening?"

"Lisa Blair and two others." Lisa was in my school, my math class with Mr. Gerald actually. A stuck up bitch if I remembered correctly.

Let me get this straight, "Mr. Gerald blackmails you into fucking him and whoever he tells you too?"

"Yes."

"And if you don't he will tell me everything?"

"As well as make public everything else - I would probably go to jail too." I suppose she might - sex with minors, indecency and who knows what other humiliating acts that I didn't even know about. Perhaps I shouldn't know about, I reminded myself. Gone was the voyeur urge from earlier.

"Was Mr. Gerald with you and Lisa tonight?"

"Yes." She was only whispering, and I could feel her awkwardness about revealing the details of her indiscretions, forced or otherwise.

"Why would he want you to have sex with teenage girls?"

She shrugged and thought for a brief moment then added, "I think he does it for power... but all of them must agree to having sex with him as well. I don't think I'm the only one he has blackmailed."

I couldn't imagine my friend Tommy having sex with Mr. Gerald - yuck!

"So now its all over." It had to be right - I now knew all about mother and Mr. Gerald.

She started to cry yet again, and I was getting tired of her tears and the fact that I had been made a fool of for so many months. "He might still send everything to the police." He might.

I knew he wouldn't though - I had seen enough in the photos to know that he liked his little self-made world of his, who wouldn't, and if he wanted to use another woman as he used mother, there was at least a half a dozen other girls and women in those photos that could be blackmailed. Besides, mother was certainly right - she was most probably not the only one in his stable.

"No he won't." I really did feel as resolved as I sounded, mother looked at me with a new hope. "I will talk with him tomorrow - he will never bother you again mother."

Her eyes radiated, holding only a small spark of doubt - she needed for her son to say these things, perhaps to claim that I forgive her in committing those acts. It had been against her will hadn't it?

Then something else hit upon me - that look in mothers eyes and my bold words had sparked a change in our relationship. No longer was I the little boy - I had been rudely introduced to a nasty adult world by the secrets my mother had hidden from me. And at the same time she had been lain bare, to her very soul. Even as I stepped forwards, with my firm words, she had looked at me not as a mother but as a man. It felt strange, different... good.

I met her gaze boldly and assured her with stern words, "You do not need to worry about Mr. Gerald mother." A small thankful, almost embarrased, smile appeared upon her lips and within her eyes.

Her hand reached out and grasped my knee to squeeze it, "Thank you dear." After a lengthy pause, which our eyes were glued together, she suddenly stood and moved to leave my room. Was that it?

So much had happened to me this evening and my emotions were going rampant - yet I blurted out, "Wait mom... ?"

She stopped just inside my bedroom door and looked over her shoulder back towards me, her eyes again looking stern and maternal.

I didn't like it, I wanted that thankful gaze... I imagined it to be like a young virgin girl being told not to be scared of monsters in the dark. Trust - it had certainly held plenty of that.

I didn't know what I wanted to say or do, but blurted out, "What now mom?"

She turned about but didn't come any closer, while cocking her head to the side as if to ask me what I meant.

"What... is it all over... are you just going to pretend all of that didn't happen?"

Mother turned bright red in the face and looked frustrated, and just a little angry, "What would you have me do Danny?"

It was a loaded question, but believe it or not, it never hit me like that.

"Why did you keep the envelopes mom?"

I didn't think it was possible, but her blush deepened, "I was ordered too."

She looked defiant, and I realized my own emotions were starting to rage. I countered, though I knew the answer already, "And the dresses?"

"I wasn't allowed to wear pants." Still stern but with less resolve.

"Or he would reveal to me how much of a slut you were?"

The word 'slut' seemed to hit her physically and she sucked in her breath as if struck. Nor did she answer.

After a anxious pause, I hit her again, "I suppose you had to wear the butt plug for him too?"