Chapter 4: Damnation for Fun and Profit

With my heart pumping as I all but drooled over the barely clothed form of my mother, I scrambled to work how best to respond to Liira's challenge. Obviously, she was going for the I'm-such-a-naughty-girl schtick, one of the stand-bys of the gigabytes of porn cached in zipped, password-protected files on my lap-top. If Liira saw no need to be inventive, neither did I; I wobbled off the bed and stood up, trying to look suitably stern. Of course, stripped naked and with my junk heaving up and down in front of me ruined the effect somewhat, but I blustered on.

"That's right, um ... young lady. That's not the sort of thing this establishment stands for," I temporised, stalking over until I was in her face. She whimpered a little, pretending to feel fear for the sake of the fantasy that we were re-enacting. Her eyes downcast, she feigned mortification. "But sir, I'll do anything you say to get out of this." She looked back up me, her eyes glazed over with lust. Liira seductively bit her lower lip, crossing her arms under her bust to emphasise my mother's exposed cleavage. Remembering yesterday morning when I had said the same thing to Liira whilst pleading for clemency, my ire rose. I shocked the both of us, grabbing one pigtail and dragging my mother to her knees. My cock bounced around in front of my mother's eyes with the sudden movement, and Liira took the opportunity to capture me in her mouth.

This time, she elected not to use her formidable skills. Instead of the erotic assault I'd been subjected to about an hour ago, she was hesitant this time, heightening the illusion we were sharing. She had some trouble with my size, gagging as my glans struck the back of her throat, whilst her tongue did little more than hold me in place whilst she moved my mother's lips up and down my shaft. Despite the difference involved, it was no less sensuous for me, but tired of the game, I lifted her back to her feet, planting her back in the position she had been mere moments before. This time, though, I left with her thighs demurely together rather than displaying what she had available for my pleasure.

I slipped one hand inside the folded-back silk blouse, gently squeezing at the breast contained by the marvellous technology of the push-up bra. Liira gasped, and I took it as a signal to stimulate my mother's other erogenous zone, rubbing my other hand against the sleek satin that hid her groin. The dampness that had originally demarcated the cleft at her groin had spread, soaking up around much of her pubic region and discolouring the red of the fabric. I raised that hand to my nose, scenting my mother's sexual secretions before I held the same hand out to Liira. She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust, and tried to turn away; I clapped it over her mouth. With seeming reluctance, she licked the drying fluid from my fingers, her apparent enthusiasm growing as she worked her way down my hand.

Without preamble, I pulled my mother's panties to one side, hooking the crotch around one of her puffy lips. Before the fabric could stretch back into place, I moved forwards and slid slightly into her. For a wonder, the makeshift hook of my mother's flesh held, and I thrust back and forth in her. Liira's expression changed to one of exaggerated shock at my forwardness, and in her little-girl voice she whimpered "Oh, sir, I don't think this is the sort of punishment you're meant to use." I simply ignored her, speeding up and burying more of myself in her with each inward thrust. Within moments, Liira began to respond, her hips moving in time with my rhythm, increasing the sensations I felt. As we continued in that position, I took the opportunity afforded to me to leave my mother mostly clothed. Small consolation when I was still violating her flesh without her consent, but at least this time I didn't have to deal with her breasts flopping all over the place.

At length, the body beneath me tensed, shuddering into orgasm. I kept my hands well away from my mother's breasts or clitoris, making Liira do all the work. Out of nowhere, felt my own orgasm coming upon me; startled by its suddenness, I too froze up; Liira smirked, dropping again to her knees. The merest touch of her hand was enough to send me over the edge; she aimed my wildly firing penis in the manner of a porn movie's money-shot, covering my mother's face with thick, pearly ropes of my semen, running down over her chin towards those perfect breasts. Releasing my cock, she ran an outstretched finger up her throat, collecting the filmy mucous and swallowing it. She repeated the process with the rest of my ejaculate, dramatically over-emphasising each movement. The effect was mesmerising. Once as clean as she could get, Liira stood up, rising to her tiptoes and planting a light kiss on my forehead.

Sinking back onto her heels and her regular height, she grinned impishly up at me. "I know what you tried to do there, mortal, and I will not stand for it. Besides, it is really no fun if you do not involve yourself in the proceedings." With a knowing tilt to her eyebrows, she flounced out of my room, closing the door behind her. Evidently I had been granted a stay of execution for the night, as she turned off the hallway lights behind her, fired up the shower again, and was then silent in my mother's room.

Great, I thought. Just fucking great. She turns the evening into a bukkake spectacular starring my mother, and what do I do? I get into it. I don't know what frightened me more, how easily Liira could over-ride the instincts that told me screwing my mother was wrong, or how much I was beginning to enjoy it. Whilst the context was wrong beyond imagining, Liira had given me easily the best sex I had ever experienced. I wasn't sure I could imagine anything else ever measuring up; even if I somehow managed to make it with someone who could match her skills in the bedroom, I was unsure every single moment would be so note-perfect.

I killed the lights in my room and sank back into my bed, staring up into the darkness. I spent the night in a fitful sleep, awoken by nothing. Well, not by nothing; I was catapulted into wakefulness once by a sex dream. Nothing terribly unusual there, except that the dream was replaying what had happened during the past hours, with my mother kneeling before me, working at my cock with her mouth in that naughty schoolgirl outfit. I half-expected to find Liira straddling me, but it turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary dream. I groaned and tried to go back to sleep.

Some time had passed now after Liira's arrival, and I had settled into a routine. During the night, I would have mind-blowing sex with my mother's body, and during the day I would do everything I could think of to avoid her. I was still weirded out by the prospect of enjoying my night-time trysts, but the biggest problem for me was that Liira had managed to instil a Pavlovian response in me. Whenever I was in close physical proximity to my mother's body, I would begin to bar up in preparation for sex. I can't even tell you how bad it was to be in a car with her, desperately trying to hide my state. She'd spotted what was going on once. Her embarrassed cough and the way she pointedly ignored the subject at hand had been bad enough even then; I had no desire to repeat the experience. I could tell that my sudden emotional withdrawal had hurt my mother, but I couldn't be close to her without it doing my head in, so I took to spending every hour of the day I could at university, attacking my subjects with vigour to keep my mind occupied.

This worked well enough for a while, but Murphy clearly had his eye in and was gunning for me. A few days after my mother came home practically glowing about a promotion at work that would enable her to do part of her job from home in addition to granting her a new office and secretary at her insurance form, my boss called me in for the dreaded "talk." I'm sorry to have to let you go, the economy is tanking, it's nothing personal, blah blah blah. To add insult to injury, and whether it was due to Liira's tampering or the simple work-out provided by the night-time sexual Olympics my mother and I were put through, I had an ample amount of excess energy due to increased fitness levels. For my mother's part, the constant sex had helped tone up her body; not that she was unfit before, but now she was beginning to look really trim, enough to attract wolf whistles when she appraised construction sites and admiring glances when we were out in public.

Do you know what happens when your expenses remain the same but your income is zero? You become poor. Living at home at least mitigated the more dire problems I may have otherwise faced, but I became dependant on my mother for handouts to cover printing costs at Uni and petrol for my (thank God) economical Echo. The money had come with some strings attached, though. My mother insisted that, in return, I spend time with her. I managed to dodge out of the commitment for a while, but eventually she grew tired of that; she had a screaming fit and demanded that I uphold my end of the bargain before storming off to her room. Even from the end of the hallway, I could hear her crying.

I found myself in a quandary. On one hand, I had failed to honour my obligations, but on the other hand whenever I was around my mother I started to pitch a tent. I wanted to go in to try and console her, but my mother's room was no longer holy ground to me, but instead the site of my many night-time romps with Liira. Eventually, what I'd like to think was my better nature won out, and I timidly knocked on her door, opening it and peeking in.