THE RAPE CHRONICLES: CASE STUDIES OF SURVIVOR RESPONSES
Case Number One
This case requires more background information than most, in order to
place events within a proper context, especially considering the unusual, though
not previously unheard of, sadistic twist perpetrated by the rapists.
At the time of the attack, thirty-three year old Norma and her sixteen
year old son Paul had been living alone for the previous two years. Norma's
divorce from ex-husband John had been finalized six months before. The marriage
had ended after the latest in a sequence of John's habitual affairs.
John was a successful manager of a real estate brokerage office. His
income provided Norma with sufficient alimony and child support that it was
unnecessary for her to work. Her only regular activities at this stage in her
life consisted of daily workouts in the gym ("to compete from a distance with
the younger sluts I knew my husband was still screwing") and compulsively
watching some of the more outlandish TV talk shows.
The relationship between Norma and Paul had developed severe strains.
As a result of John's sexual escapades, Norma was determined to ensure that Paul
not "end up like his father," that is, that he not grow into a man who would
treat women only as sexual objects. Thus, at the very time in a teenage boy's
life during which interest in the opposite sex is reaching the very peak and
highest intensity that it will perhaps ever achieve, Paul was forbidden to date.
This occasioned numerous and bitter arguments between mother and son. Norma's
insistence that Paul was "too young" had resulted in a relationship that ranged
(at best) from silent and uncommunicative to (at worst) bitterly acrimonious.
Indeed, on the very evening of the attack, mother and son had a particularly
harsh argument, in which Paul called Norma "a sick bitch," and had gone into his
room, slamming the door behind him.
This is the context in which the rape and its' accompanying events took
place. It's likely that this emotional turmoil, preceding the sexual assault
that soon followed, added to the psychological trauma that both Norma and Paul
suffered at the time, and contributed to the bizarre results which occurred
after the attack
Now, to the facts of the rape itself.
At approximately nine pm, three African-American men entered the house
in what police later referred to as a classic home invasion. They quickly
ascertained that Norma was there alone with her son. They brought Paul out of
his bedroom, into the living room. Both mother and son were in a state of
shock. The men demanded Norma's cash, credit cards and any jewelry she might
have. After giving them what money she had and what jewelry she could find, the
men were furious at the insignificant value of what Norma gave them.
The men forced Paul to witness what followed.
They made Norma disrobe, then they took turns sexually assaulting her.
In addition to vaginal rape, they made Norma perform fellatio upon them.
She was also sodomized.
When they had finished taking their turns with Norma, then occurred the
"twist" referred to earlier.
They forced mother and son to engage in sexual intercourse. According
to what Norma and Paul both reported to the police, they at first resisted the
rapists' demand. The rapists then threatened both mother and son. They finally
got Norma's cooperation only after convincing her that they would kill her son.
After the forced incestuous relations between mother and son, the men
again took turns raping Norma, before finally leaving.
You will see a very different version of what actually happened in the
following comments excerpted from the psychological counseling Norma has
undergone since her rape.
There are even more disturbing facts which emerged over time from a
series of interviews Norma granted the editor.
The comments you are about to read from the victim are, as indicated
above, excerpted from counseling sessions Norma has had, and from private
interviews granted the editor.
I'm grateful to Norma for her honesty in relating her emotional
responses during her rape and compelled relations with her son. I'm even more
grateful for her further disturbing revelations about her life since the events
of that traumatic evening.
NORMA'S STORY (as related in counseling sessions):
"Even all these months after it happened, it's still tough for me to
understand everything I felt, all the thoughts and emotions that went through my
mind at the time...
One of the things I only later figured out, or, I should say, that I
could admit to myself, was that I felt a certain excitement when I realized what
those men were going to be doing to me. I mean, to be honest, I always enjoyed
sex. After a lot of conversations with girl friends in high school and college,
I came to the conclusion that I was kind of over sexed. [Norma laughed at this
point in the recorded counseling session] It took my marriage to kill those
feelings in me! At least I thought those urges were pretty much gone. I had
some occasional fantasies, but I really didn't want anything to do with men...I
understand now how I took that out on Paul...
Right, how I felt...well, of course, I was terrified. The violence of
the way they kicked the door in, the guns they had, the threats they made, I've
never been so scared in all my life. Then they got so angry because I didn't
have much of value in the house to give. Nothing of value, except for what they
decided to take for themselves [bitter tone]...
They told me that if I didn't have anything of value to give them,
that...well, that they would just have to have a good time fucking me. I was
so frightened, that I never even thought about arguing or pleading. But I did
speak up when they told me to take my clothes off.
'Not in front of my son, please."
They just laughed.
'As a matter of fact, this be a good chance for your boy to get some
real life education. Get over here, boy. You're gonna see a real entertaining
show," one of them said.
They grabbed Paul by the arm, and brought him over to just a few feet
away from me.
Here's where it's still difficult for me to sort out my feelings. I
mean, first, I was still terrified out of my mind. I was afraid of what these
men were going to be doing to me. But...I hadn't had any sex for two years.
That's...well, it's just a really long time, you know. And now there were three
men, three strangers, who were forcing me to get undressed in front of them.
And I could see from the looks on their faces, how much they wanted to...fuck
me.
And there was something else, too. I had never...been with a man of
color before. Except for seeing some porno films in college, and watching a
couple of movies like that with John after we were married, I had never seen a
naked black man before. And they were starting to get undressed. I...I, well,
there's no way, except to say it, I guess. I was curious, curious and excited
to see their bodies. Damn it, I had been horny for so damned long, well, the
idea of seeing some strange cock...and not just cock, but black cock, and three
of them at the same time! Well, part of me wanted it. Is that sick? Isn't it
maybe, kind of normal under the circumstances?
So, anyway, I was scared and curious and a little bit excited. But
then, Paul was there! The idea of taking my clothes off in front of my
son...even now, I can't really separate out all of my thoughts about that! And
I don't mean...what they forced us to do later. I'm just referring to getting
naked in front of Paul. For one thing, I knew he was a sixteen year old kid,
and was horny as hell himself. I knew he would love to see a naked woman. How
would that make him feel when he saw his own mother naked? Would he be
horrified, disgusted...maybe excited?
And then, there was the awful relationship between us at the time.
Would his dislike and anger get even worse, when he saw his own mother nude? I
was afraid he would lose any respect at all that he might still have for me.
And I was bothered by something else...maybe he would even kind of like what he
was going to be watching, seeing me stripped of all dignity, and seeing these
men use my body. He had called me a sick bitch, and he was going to be watching
me doing perverted things with three strange men! Paul was so mad at me, I just
didn't know what his reaction was going to be. He might like seeing me...hurt
and degraded. On the other hand, maybe it would even make him feel...I don't
know, maybe kind of forgiving about our differences.
Anyway, one of the men told me to quit stalling, and to get my clothes
off. So, I tried not to think about my son standing there, just a couple of
feet away from me.
I pulled my t-shirt over my head, and threw it on the floor. Then I
pulled my jeans down. The black men were making crude comments. They had
already taken their pants off. I couldn't help looking at their cocks. They
were already hard. I don't know if it was just because I had been so long
without a man, but their erections seemed enormous, sticking straight out from
their bodies.
I saw that Paul was looking at them, too, and he had a shocked
expression on his face. And then he looked over at me, and I saw his eyes run
from the area of my bra, down to my panties. He seemed...he seemed kind of
transfixed by seeing me partially undressed. Maybe it was the combination of
seeing me like that in front of those half naked black men, with their
hard-ons...I don't know...
I just stood there for what seemed like a few seconds, and then one of
the men slapped me across the face. I was more shocked and scared than
hurt...but I knew I had to do what they wanted. So I reached behind me,
unclasped my bra, and pulled it off. Those assholes laughed, and made some
dirty comments, and they started feeling me with their hands. I made sure I
didn't look at Paul, so I don't know what his reaction was, as he saw a bunch of
strange men playing with his mother's tits. They were squeezing me, and pulling
on my nipples. I think I was crying. But while they were having their fun, I
went ahead and pulled my panties down, and kicked them off.
Then their hands were now between my legs, too. I felt someone put his
hands in the crack of my ass, and search out my...my asshole, and I felt a
finger poking inside me. They weren't gentle, they were just starting to use
me, to take what they wanted from my body. They were starting to rape me. I
had closed my eyes without realizing it. Then I suddenly opened them, and
looked at Paul. He was staring at the dark bush between my legs. His mouth was
kind of hanging open. It seemed to me he was being turned on by looking at me.
I felt sick, actually nauseous, as I really understood that my son was
getting excited by my nakedness, and maybe even by watching those men touching
me.
But...I also felt some kind of...excitement, too. It was strange, I
still don't understand it. But having my own son seeing me like that...I don't
know, I still don't get it. Why would that make me feel, what, excited, turned
on? I felt like I was going crazy, maybe it was just all that time without sex,
and all of a sudden all this was happening...I don't know...
Anyway, the black bastards went ahead and did what they said they would.
They raped me. The first thing they did was to force me to my knees, and then
to suck their cocks.
No, I'm not going to go over all that again. But I realized something
later. If my son hadn't been there, I think they would have just gotten down to
fucking me. When they forced me to use my mouth on them, well, I think they
were deliberately making me perform in front of Paul. And a lot of what else
they did to me, the way they did it, the things they made me do to them, all of
it was so that...well, I guess it was to humiliate me and Paul, to let us know
we were completely in their power...
I can give you another example. The first one to fuck me, I think he
actually posed us for my son's benefit. No, I know that's what he did. They
made Paul get a kitchen chair, and move it over in front of the couch. Then the
guy sat down on the couch. He made me straddle him with my back to him, and
facing Paul. Then he grabbed me by the hips, and lowered me down to his cock.
He made me reach behind me with both hands, and place his cock in my vagina.
Then he made me...impale myself on him, all the way down to the hilt. And even
that wasn't all. He spread his legs as far apart as they would go, and then he
made me put my feet on his thighs, so that my feet were actually against my ass.
In that position I was spread wide open. My eyes were closed, but I
knew Paul, sitting just two or three feet away, could see me spread wide open,
with that black cock pumping up and down inside me. I kept my eyes closed, I
didn't want to actually see Paul watching the obscene display. I heard one of
the other guys say something to Paul, but I wasn't paying any attention to what
it was. All I could concentrate on was the brutal pounding inside my pussy. It
really was rape, none of them, including the guy who was fucking me then, did
anything that night to make it pleasant, or even less painful for me. Well,
except for when the next man took me...in the rear. And that was to make it
easier for him, not me.
Anyway, I know I was whimpering from the pain, every time he thrust
himself into me. He was doing it as hard and as deeply as he could, it felt
like I was being split apart.
'Open your eyes, bitch. Look at your kid,' one of the other men
suddenly said.
I opened my eyes and looked at Paul.
He was naked. He was sitting there on the chair. His legs were spread
apart, and he had an erection, which he was stroking with one hand, as he
watched me being raped. As I realized what I was seeing, the man fucking me
reached his hands in front of me, and began kneading my breasts and twisting on
my nipples. As he did that, Paul started to move his hand even faster up and
down his shaft.
I...my feelings and thoughts and emotions at that point...they were all
confused in my mind. I felt completely humiliated. I felt helpless. I was
embarrassed and ashamed. I felt crushed, from the obvious evidence that Paul
was enjoying seeing all this being done to me. But...I also felt new sensations
between my legs...no, not just the pounding I was taking. I felt pleasurable,
exciting feelings in my vulva.
I don't know why I was being turned on by the knowledge that my son was
getting off watching me being fucked. At this point, that's what I want you to
help me find out. Out of everything that happened that night, I need to know, I
have to know, why I ended up...feeling the things I felt.
Anyway, everything that happened the rest of the night, it was all
overshadowed by my awareness that Paul was watching it and enjoying it...
In any case, I was turned on by having Paul witness what was happening
to me, and by knowing he was excited by it.
I had an orgasm while being raped.
As I got more and more excited, I began moving up and down, to meet the
thrusts of the cock inside me. I heard the two other men laughing, as I came in
front of all them, with my son watching. I made those involuntary noises that
women make when coming...or at least that I make. I'm not a screamer, I usually
moan and whimper, and I did plenty of that while they all watched me and
listened to me.
The one who was fucking me kept saying things like, 'Yeah, baby, you
like that don't you, you nasty bitch, yeah, pump up and down on that big black
motherfucker inside that pink pussy.'
And something else strange was happening to me. The more degraded I was
becoming, and I really did feel degraded by their laughter and comments, and by
my...well, by sluttish response to everything, the more excited I kept becoming.
And that kept happening the rest of the night.
Let me ask you, Doctor, is it rape if the woman gets turned on? I
wouldn't have let any of this happen to me, if I could have prevented
it...that's part of my confusion from everything that happened that night. It
was against my will, completely...but I had orgasms while it was going on, and I
felt excitement of a kind I had never felt before...
Anyway, they really weren't just raping me, they were making me perform
in front of my son. The next one to take his turn with me proved that.
He made me face the back of the couch, and forced me to bend my torso
over it. My face was over the back of it, and my breasts were dangling down.
The third man went around the back of the couch and began playing with my tits.
I heard the man behind me call Paul over.
'When you fuck a bitch in the ass, you usually need some kind cream or
oil, so you can get your dick in. After the first time, it's stretched, so you
don't need it any more. Watch how I get your momma ready.' Then I felt his
fingers smearing Vaseline around my opening, and then all the way inside me. He
rotated his fingers inside my rectum, getting me oiled deep inside, and all
around.
I knew Paul was getting a close up, watching this. I couldn't help
myself, I started moaning. Then he fucked me in the ass, while the other guy
continued to massage my tits, and pull on my nipples.
They made a point of displaying me when the third man took his turn.
They had me lay on my back on the carpet. Then the two guys who had already
fucked me, each grabbed a leg and pulled them way back towards my head. My
pussy was again completely exposed, and they had Paul sit right behind the man,
who then proceeded to fuck me. My legs were held in that pulled back position
until he came inside me. I came again. As he was fucking me, all I could think
of was how Paul was watching it all, seeing every detail. The thought of it
drove me wild.
And there's no point in any of this if I'm not honest, right? Well,
while the third guy was doing his thing, I couldn't help thinking of what Paul
looked like, as he had sat in that chair, holding his young cock in his hand,
playing with himself.
You already know my ultimate performance of the night, though.
When the third man was through with me, I just lay there. I was
exhausted by having just been fucked by three men, and by having had a couple of
orgasms. Suddenly I heard words that stunned.
'Do you want to fuck your momma?'
I couldn't breathe, and the silence seemed to last forever. Then Paul
answered...I couldn't believe what he had just been asked...and then I couldn't
believe, I'll never ever forget, his simple answer.
'Yes.'
'No,' I moaned. 'I won't do it, I won't let him do it."
One of the men got on his knees next to me on the floor. He grabbed my
hair with one hand. Then he slapped me with the other. Then he backhanded me,
as well. My ears were ringing, and started to cry.
'Please,' I started to say.
Then he punched me in the stomach. I couldn't breathe, it felt, I don't
know, it felt like I was going to die, or suffocate. I rolled over and over on
the floor. Gradually, I became able to breathe again. I just lay there.
'You going to let your boy fuck you? Or do we need to persuade you some
more?'
'No,' I gasped. 'Please, don't hurt me anymore.'
I couldn't believe this was happening. The rape, Paul's excitement at
what was happening, all of that had seemed unreal, incredible, like a
combination nightmare or dream. But to have my own son...to be forced to let my
own flesh and blood fuck me...I just lay there, waiting to be told what to do.
I knew I would have to obey their orders, and their instructions. But I didn't
have the initiative or the energy to even change my prone position, without
someone directing me.
Then I was dragged to my knees. They motioned Paul over, to stand in
front of me. His erection was at my eye level. I was staring directly at my
son's cock.
There was a whole, whirling turmoil of thoughts and emotions that ran
through me at that moment. How can I describe what I felt then? I think almost
the first thing that occurred to me was the memory of Paul as an infant. He had
been so small, and so helpless...
Now he was standing in front of me, and I was the one who was helpless.
'Go ahead, momma, suck his dick,' one of the men ordered.
I looked up at Paul.
'Please, Paul, we can't do this. It would be sick, sick and perverted.
Please, honey.'
I stared up at him. The three men also looked at him. We all waited
for his response.
'Suck my dick, mom.'
I started to cry again. The men just laughed.
I looked at my son's penis. There had been plenty of lovers in my life,
so even before that night, I had seen plenty of hard-ons. But as I looked at
Paul's erection, it might as well have been the first penis I had ever seen.
And then I had a realization that really overwhelmed me. The cock in front of
me, the one I was about to...service, it was one that my own body had created.
I had made my son, including the penis he and these men were forcing me to
submit to. I looked at it closely, really as if I had never seen a penis
before. I was...well, I was astonished by the beauty and sheer sexiness of this
male organ, that had come out of my own body. As I looked at it, it jerked up
and down once. I looked up at Paul. He was staring down at me, and he looked
as if he was afraid I wouldn't do what these men had ordered me to do.
I looked back at his penis. I reached out slowly...and I touched it.
It jumped in my hands, and I heard Paul gasp. The other men were laughing
again, but their voices, and the men themselves, didn't seem to matter any more.
All I could focus on now was Paul, and the beautiful organ I had between my
hands. I stared at it with such a...such an incredible focus, that it really
was like seeing the male organ for the first time. My fingernails traced around
the edges of the head. Paul was groaning steadily now. I ran my fingers over
the protruding veins. I then ran my fingers along the whole length of the
underside of his shaft. I cupped his balls with one hand, and began stroking
his cock with the other. I was amazed at the curly pubic hair above his cock,
and the hair which had started to cover his balls.
And then I was struck by another thought. I had refused to let Paul
date, thinking he was too young. But the evidence of his right to want to be
with girls was in my own hands. He had the cock of a man. I realized something
else, too, something really ironic. The fact that I hadn't let him seek out
girls meant that he was going to be especially horny now...and I was going to be
the one to satisfy his horniness.
His cock was now jerking steadily in my hands.
Wait, I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be talking about my feelings, right?
And here I am giving detailed account of how I had sex with my son! Oh, sure,
anything I want to say is ok...when do I get to start understanding my fucked up
mind?
OK, I do want to tell the rest of it, at least the things that have to
do with Paul.
I saw that if I played with his cock much longer, he would be coming.
Somehow, without knowing how I came to decide it, I knew that I was going to let
him put his cock inside me, and shoot into me.
No, I know that I basically didn't have much choice. But I could have
made him come with my hands. And despite the fact that Paul was forcing me to
have sex with him, I didn't want him embarrassed. I knew he would be humiliated
if he shot off in my hands. I didn't want these strangers laughing at
him...they were already laughing at me enough.
I took his hand, and pulled him down beside me on the carpet. I got on
my back. I spread my legs wide apart, with Paul between them. I opened my
labia with one hand, and found my clitoris. I pulled on it, so it was exposed.
Then I took Paul's hand, and began rubbing it against my clit. I groaned at the
feel of his fingers. I pulled my legs back, as far as they would go, to
encourage him to keep playing with me. My son learned quickly. He began
circling my clitoris, pulling on it gently, and even began flicking it back and
forth. His touch was gentle. He was performing as a true lover.
My clitoris had always set me off sexually, very quickly and
explosively. Just having fingers playing with me there would be guaranteed to
get me going. But as I lay there, I thought about it being my son's hands
manipulating me between my legs. I started to get wet, really, really wet. I
knew Paul could tell. He started to move his fingers up and down my now very
wet central groove, back and forth. I know I was moaning like some kind of
whore. He was really turning me on. It reached a point where I wasn't even
thinking clearly anymore, his fingers were arousing such intense sensations in
my pussy...and then I felt his fingers touching my anus, and then shoving into
my rectum. I don't know what he was thinking, but I now wanted him to fuck
me...no, I needed him to fuck me.
'Paul, please...fuck me.'
He continued to tease my pussy and my asshole.
'Paul, please, I want you...I want you to fuck me. I want your big cock
inside me. Please, please, please...'
I then reached down, and gently grasped his rock hard cock. I guided
him into my dripping vagina.
And my son fucked me...
I know Paul was still a child, emotionally. But physically and
sexually, he was a man. He had a man's long, hard cock. He thrust it inside me
with a man's force. I felt his balls slapping against my ass. I put my hands
on his ass, and pulled him tightly against me.
He had laid down, his face next to mine. I had never been more turned
on, never felt more intense fucking sensations from inside my pussy. I touched
his face with one hand, and moved his mouth to mine. I don't think Paul had
ever kissed a girl romantically, so he must have been shocked when I forced my
tongue inside his mouth. I started frenching him, moving my tongue deeply into
his mouth, and circling his tongue with my own. He quickly responded, and as he
continued fucking me with his cock, we continued our wet kissing. Then I took
his hands in mine, and placed them on my tits. He groaned, as he began
squeezing them, and rubbing his hands back and forth across my nipples.
I could have climaxed at any time since I first guided his hand to my
clit, but I waited, I wanted him to know what it feels like to a man to come at
the same time as the woman he's fucking. I wanted him to know the sense of
power a man feels at making a woman surrender herself. When I felt his thrusts
suddenly get faster, and his groans start to increase, I knew he was there. I
exploded at the same time that he emptied himself inside me.
It's impossible for me to describe what it felt like to me, feeling my
own son thrusting his cock inside me, and shooting his sperm into me. Sexual
pleasure for me has always consisted of a voluntary surrender of my body to the
body of the man making love to me. To surrender my body to my own son's cock,
it's just impossible to describe the different emotions I was feeling, as I
thrust my pelvis to meet his own repeated plunging into me. I was moaning his
name the whole time I came...
...I guess what I really need to understand, after all these months, are
two things... I want to know why I responded the way I did...I mean, I've never
been perverted or into kinky things, so how I could I be so passionate with my
own son? It was incest...and my own son made me come...
The other thing? Well, I would like to know why I still want to fuck
him...and if I'll ever stop wanting it...
After reviewing the counseling records, which I obtained with Norma's
authorization from the psychologist treating her, she was kind enough to grant
me a number of interviews. I was seeking clarification of some points, and
elaboration of others.
As time went on, it became obvious that an intimate level of trust was
being created between us. Norma spoke more freely and spontaneously, she
stopped considering each word carefully, before describing some act or emotion.
And gradually, she revealed additional facts about the night of the rape itself,
and then was shockingly and brutally honest about developments that have
occurred since the rape. What follows are those additional revelations.
I can't believe I'm telling you all this. I just couldn't bring myself
to tell my counselor some of this stuff. Considering all the things I have told
him about, how sick must this stuff be, if I haven't been able to talk to him
about it?
OK, first, the night of the rape.
Those miserable sons of bitches must have gotten pretty turned on by the
way I responded to Paul fucking me, because when Paul was finished, they came
and pulled him off of me. He was still inside of me, and they just pulled him
away. Then they took turns fucking me again. I'm not sure who did what, or in
what order. I know that they fucked me in the ass, as well as my pussy...as a
matter of fact, I do remember something, something that would have seemed
unspeakably perverted before...before the things Paul and I had just done. Two
of them took me at the same time. One of them laid on his back, and they made
me sit on his cock. He pulled me forward, on to his chest. Then I felt someone
behind me, pushing my legs forward as far as they would go. My ass must have
been sticking up in the air. Then while the first guy was pumping himself
upwards into me, I felt another cock push inside my asshole. They fucked me
together, it seemed like it went on forever...Despite the physical pounding, and
the pain, I was almost numb, except for one thing...I knew Paul was seeing it
all. I wondered what he was thinking...Anyway, they finally did finish. The
last guy made me give him a blow job. I had to work very hard, with my hands as
well as my mouth, to get him off. But finally he did come, and I just kind of
slumped down to the floor. I was exhausted, I was in pain, I think I must have
been in a state of emotional shock.
I don't know how long I lay there. But at some point, Paul got down on
the floor beside me. I didn't move, I don't think I could have moved on my own,
and he didn't do anything for a couple of minutes. But then...I felt his hand
rubbing my ass.
'Paul, no, don't,' I said, half shocked, and half angry.
He didn't say anything, but he didn't stop, either. I pushed his hand
away. For a minute, neither of us moved. Then Paul got up from beside me, and
moved behind me. I was laying on my side, and he pushed me over on to my
stomach. He pushed my legs up towards my chest.
'Paul, no, stop it,' I said.
Paul didn't say anything, but he didn't stop, either. I felt his hands
spread my cheeks, and I felt his fingers probing at my anus.
I felt paralyzed, unable to move. I asked him again to stop. Now, as I
think back on it, I think I must have been moaning the words, more than speaking
them. I was pleading with my own son, pleading with him not to abuse me. But
he still didn't stop.
But I did. I stopped pleading with him. I lay there, my ass in the
air, as he continued to explore my asshole. I heard him breathing heavily, but
his hands felt very sure as they continued to manipulate my rear. And then his
hands moved down to my vulva.
Paul spread my labia, and began massaging that center channel he had
rubbed earlier. Then he found my clitoris again. He remembered where it
was...and he obviously remembered how sensitive it was to me. I looked behind
me, to see him. He had a smile on his face, as he heard me beginning to moan,
as he played with the small nodule between his fingers. I knew he felt the
power his hands had over me. I knew it from the cruel smile on his face, and I
knew it from the hard-on sprouting out from the hairy bush at his groin. He
continued to use his fingers to manipulate my pussy. I started to get wet, and
I started to feel waves of sensitive pleasure as Paul continued to touch me.
Then Paul shoved his finger deeply into my ass, as far as he could get
it in. I gasped in pain, as he started to rotate his finger forcefully inside
my rectum.
'Please, Paul, you're hurting me,' I pleaded.
He kept rotating his finger inside my ass, but then he started rubbing
my clit. He pulled on it, he started flicking it with one of his fingers. The
pain in my ass was...well, it was no longer pain, it felt good. His finger was
so far inside me, that suddenly I had the feeling that I might have to shit.
I was horny again, I wanted him to fuck me again. All of a sudden I
wanted to do something lewd, something dirty...I don't know why, but I wanted to
let Paul know that he was in control of my body again...not just physical
control, he was strong enough to force me to do whatever he wanted. I wanted
him to know that I wanted him to do what he was doing. I tightened the muscles
in my anus. I felt him laugh as he felt the movement inside my asshole. Then I
pushed out with those same muscles. I surprised us both...I farted around his
finger. I heard him laugh again.
'Get on your knees,' he said.
I slowly climbed to my knees, as he pulled his finger out of my ass. He
positioned himself behind me. He put his hands on my ass cheeks. I actually
shivered from the thrill I felt from...I guess it was from a sense that he knew
he controlled me, the casual way he had his hands on my ass, it was a sign that
he was completely in charge.
You know I've thought a lot about all of this...I think, after what I
had been through that night, and the fact that I had been so long without sex
before then, that I would have really been turned on...and I know how sick this
sounds, believe me, but still, it's the truth, it's the way I felt...like I
started to say, I would have been turned on by letting any sixteen year boy use
my body. That feeling of being excited was made even more intense, because this
was my son. I was naked, on my hands and knees, in front of my son, who was
also naked. He was looking down at my ass and pussy, which were just waiting
there for him to use. He must have felt like the most powerful man on earth, as
he looked down on me. My pussy got even wetter, as I thought about that, as I
thought about him looking down on my body, my helpless and completely vulnerable
body, as I thought about his sixteen year old cock, which he could do whatever
he wanted with...
'Put it in you,' he said.
I reached behind me, found his cock, and guided it into my vagina. He
pushed it all the way in. He started thrusting it back and forth, but much more
slowly than the first time he fucked me. I think I was moaning, just constantly
moaning as I felt his young hardness filling my pussy. Then I felt his hands
suddenly cupping my breasts, which dangled down from my position on hands and
knees.
'You have great tits,' he grunted, as he kneaded my breasts in time to
his slow thrusts inside me. I felt another excruciating wave of pleasure
between my legs, as I thought about my son's hands using my tits, the same tits
I suckled him with sixteen years before
'Oh, God, yes, yes, yes...Paul, it feels so good, so good...'
He started pulling on my nipples, and rubbing them between his fingers.
They were so sensitive, I felt like screaming. But I just continued to moan, as
he kept on fucking me.
There's not really that much more to say about that night. Paul came
inside me again, and once again, I came along with him. I still get shivers of
excitement, as I picture in my mind how we must have looked, the thirty three
year old mother and her sixteen year old son, thrusting against each others'
genitals, the son's sperm exploding down the length of his shaft into the
mother's moist interior...
We never told the police about this second fucking by my son. And I
never told my counselor.
That should have been the end of it, of course...
The next few days, Paul and I hardly exchanged any words, except for the
bare necessities. I don't know what was on his mind, or at least I didn't know
it then, but I knew I wanted to block it all out of my mind.
Then, three or four nights after...after that night, I awoke in the
middle of the night. I had been soundly asleep, and for a moment I didn't know
what had awakened me. Then I looked up. Paul was standing there, looking down
at me. He was naked, and his stiffened cock stood straight out from his body,
it was moving up and down by itself, letting me know how aroused he was.
'No, Paul,' I whispered. 'We can't, it's wrong.'
He didn't say anything, he just looked down at me. Then he moved closer
to me, and stood right against the bed. His cock was right in from of my face.
I looked at it. It was still moving on its' own, up and down. I felt a sudden
warmth between my legs, and felt the moisture begin to slowly flow.
'Paul, please,' I started to say, even as I leaned forward. I put my
mouth around the head of his penis. I began to suck him, slowly...
In a minute, he reached down and pulled the covers to the foot of the
bed. Then he began lifting the long t-shirt I wore as a nightgown. I sat up,
and pulled it all the way off. He reached out and began caressing my tits, and
rubbing the nipples between his fingers, something he was getting very good at.
My nipples quickly stiffened, they stood out more than he had ever seen them do
so. He got in bed and laid down next to me. He started massaging my vulva and
sucking on my nipples. I stroked my hand, up and down the rigid length of his
shaft. I don't know if it was his youth, or what, but I don't think I've ever
felt a cock that was as hard as his was. We continued to touch each other...we
made love to each other. We fucked, and we made love to each other. At least
that's what it was for me. Looking back on it, I now know that as far as he was
concerned, he was getting an available piece of ass. But that's getting ahead
of the story, isn't it...
Paul stayed in my bed the rest of the night. We fucked two or three
more times. We both seemed insatiable.
In the morning, we continued the previous days' lack of communication.
I didn't know what to say to him. I knew we couldn't continue to do what we had
done the night before, but I didn't know how to tell him that. Paul seemed to
have no need to talk to me at all. We were almost back to the way we were
before the night of the rape, when we didn't have anything to say to each other.
The only difference now was that we weren't fighting.
Things quickly developed into a pattern from then on. At some point
early each night, Paul came to my bed. He didn't say anything to me, and I
didn't say anything to him. He just made use of my body. He seemed to have an
endless desire to touch my tits and my nipples, to play with my pussy. He also
seemed to find the tight opening of my asshole fascinating. He never fucked me
without first finger fucking my anus. He got very good at that, too. Paul
seemed to like teasing me. He would rim my asshole with his finger for long
periods of time, and then when he had me groaning uncontrollably, he would
slowly insert his finger all the way into my rectum. And he teased my clit,
too. I think he really got off on controlling the responses of my body, of
making me want to submit my body to his use.
Part of the pattern that we developed was also that of experimenting.
We tried different positions. He loved taking me from the rear, with me on my
hands and knees. I knew, I just sensed that each time he did that, he
remembered my previous control over him. I know that he liked to remember how I
wouldn't let him date, or ever stay out later than 10 o'clock, as he looked at
me on my hands and knees, waiting for his cock to fuck me, and make me come.
Paul also liked to have me sit on him. He would look up at me, as he
moved his cock up and down inside me, and he would play with my tits. I usually
kept my eyes closed, but on those occasions when I would look at him, he would
be looking up, seeming to absorb every detail of my response. And my responses
never seemed to get weaker. I...I loved having him fuck me. There's not even
any point to trying to analyze it, it got to the point that I would be wet
between my legs before he even came into my...into our bedroom.
He also liked to have me sit on him while facing his feet. Sometimes he
would have me that way on my knees. Sometimes he would have me impale myself on
his cock that way, then he would pull me back against him. When he took me that
way, he liked to tease my clitoris while he fucked me. He brought me to orgasms
that were...well, just overwhelmingly intense when he did that. I know that he
loved the sense of power he had over me, when he heard me making those different
sounds a woman makes when she's coming...my moans and groans, my cries, my
screaming...that's funny, isn't it? I had never been a screamer before, my son
turned me into one.
I can't believe the different things I did with him. One night, on the
spur of the moment, I got down to his feet. I began to suck his large toe.
When I heard him groan in response, I ended up sucking all his toes. That
became a regular part of our foreplay.
And then one night I, while I was sucking his cock and balls, I
spontaneously moved my mouth down to his anus. I spread his ass cheeks widely
apart, as far as I could spread them. I got turned on by looking at his puckered
opening, and the way it was darker than the surrounding flesh of his tight young
ass. I rimmed him with my tongue, and then I put my tongue inside him, as
deeply as it would go. I loved the sensation of having my tongue in his rectum.
I was turned by the fact of doing that to a man. And I was turned on because
the man was my young son. There was a slightly bitter, acrid taste. I loved
it. And Paul obviously loved it. But as always, he never said anything to let
me know that he liked it or appreciated, I had to tell from his physical
responses...
Then, after maybe a month, things started to change.
One afternoon, after getting home from school, he told me he was going
out that night.
'I don't know when I'll be back,' he said in an offhand way. He looked
at me. I didn't know what to say, and so I ended up just nodding. I don't know
if I realized at the time how momentous that moment was. From that point on in
our lives, Paul did what he wanted.
That night he came home very late. I smelled marijuana on his breath.
I was suddenly very afraid to say anything about it. I think the grass made him
especially horny. He ate my pussy with an energy he usually didn't have for
that particular task. And he didn't fuck me in the pussy, which he always did.
When he was ready to finish, he straddled my face, and fucked me in the mouth.
'Oh, yeah, suck it, mom, suck every drop...yeah, yeah, yeah...,' he
repeated, until he emptied himself into my mouth.
'Paul, please, would you touch me?' I asked him when he was done. I was
still in that usual state of intense arousal I found myself in, whenever we were
in bed together.
'Do it yourself,' he muttered, and was almost instantly asleep.
And I did it, I masturbated myself to climax.
He started going out at night regularly. Then other kids started
calling him on the phone, girls as well as boys.
I remember a pang of intense pain and jealously, the time a girl
called, because when Paul got on the phone, it was with that type of excitement
and innocence that a boy has for a girl friend. But our relationship was way
beyond the point where I could remonstrate with him about anything. And what
right did I, his mother, have to be jealous about anything? I had a right to
not be in a sexual relationship with my own flesh and blood, but I didn't have
any right to tell him he couldn't have a girl friend.
Paul now went out a majority of nights, often coming back very late. We
no longer had relations every night, but did, I would guess, about four or five
nights a week. As usual, Paul wouldn't ask, he would begin touching me, and
using my body for his pleasure. If anything, my passionate response to him
intensified, because we were no longer fucking every night. The uncertainty
about whether he would be using me, made me anticipate our relations even more
than before.
Then one day Paul told me he had a girl coming over that night. Her
name was Janice. They watched a video they had rented. I stayed in my room
that night. At one point, I got up and tiptoed to the bedroom door. I listened
intently. I think I heard the sound of murmuring voices, then silence, then
more quiet talking. My imagination pictured them fumbling at each other's
bodies, in high school make-out fashion...
Janice continued to come over frequently. It wasn't long before she and
Paul would go into his old bedroom, and close the door. One night I was up at
almost 4 am, and I heard Paul leave to take Janice home.
The next morning I lost it with Paul. I yelled and ranted at him. I
told him I would no longer permit him to have Janice, or anyone, over anymore,
not without my permission. I really, really lost it. Paul listened silently.
Then he left for school, without saying anything to me.
That night, Paul talked to me.
'I want to ask something. Is it ok if I have some of my friends over?'
I suddenly felt embarrassed at my outburst that morning.
'Sure, Paul. Who's coming over?'
'Billy.'
I paused. Billy was a kid Paul had been spending a lot of time with. I
had known him since he and Paul had gone to Junior High together. Billy was
always the kind of kid who seemed to be in trouble. I had seen him at some high
school student functions, and he was now decked out in black leather, with
weirdly dyed hair. I disliked the kid, and I disliked the amount of time Paul
had been spending with him. But after my emotional explosion that morning, I
didn't feel I could say anything.
'Sure, Paul, that's fine.'
Paul looked at me for a moment, without expression.
'Thanks, mom,' he finally said.
Paul and his friend came home together that night, about 7 o'clock.
Billy was in his apparently customary black leather. His hair was a fairly
normal streaked blonde affair, and was spiked. From the moment he came inside
the house, he gave me the willies, the way he looked at me, with a weird
intensity. I tried to be friendly, for Paul's benefit, despite my distaste and
dislike for his friend.
'Have you boys had dinner?'
'Yeah, we're ok.'
'Well, if there's anything I can get you guys, just let me know.'
I started to turn around to go in the kitchen and make myself some
coffee. I wasn't worried about being kept up, because I hoped that being on my
good behavior with Billy would result in Paul...being with me later.
'Wait, mom.'
I turned around. They were both looking at me.
'Mom, I want you to take care of Billy tonight.'
I didn't understand. I really didn't get it.
'What do you mean, Paul?'
'I told Billy he can fuck you, that's what I mean.'
I was speechless. My mouth must of hung open, as I just stared at him.
I looked over at Billy, who had an eager, expectant look on his face.
'Paul, that's not funny. I think you need to watch your filth...'
Before I could finish what I was saying, Paul had taken a few quick strides,
over to where I stood. I was startled by his quickness, and suddenly a little
afraid. His movement to get to me seemed...well, it seemed like he had the
potential for violence.
Then he grabbed my hair, and yanked my head down, hard. Before I could
say anything, he did it again twice more. The pain from where he held my hair
was awful. I felt tears start rolling down my cheeks.
'Paul, what are...?'
He slapped me across the face. I was stunned, and I was terrified, too.
'I don't like the way you talked to me this morning, mom. I thought we
both knew that you're not the boss of me anymore. You're just my personal piece
of pussy. And I'm going to share your pussy with my friend. And maybe you'll
think twice before you open your mouth to me again. Except maybe to suck my
dick.'
I heard Billy laugh.
I was shocked by Paul's...well, I can only call it his hatred, I was
shocked by that and by his willingness to hurt me. I was going to protest to
him, to plead with him, but I knew that if I did, he was willing to hurt me. I
had learned from the rape that if men are willing to hurt a woman to get her to
do what they want, the woman doesn't have a lot of choice. So I just stood
there, not saying anything, tears still coursing down my face.
"Get your ass over to the couch. Now.'
I walked over to the couch, the same couch that I had been brutally
raped on a couple of months before. I sat down in the middle of it. Paul and
Billy came over and sat down next to me. Paul was on my left, and his friend
was on my right. Billy had taken his leather jacket off, and had on a black
t-shirt. His torso and arms were thin, but he looked kind of wiry, like he had
some physical strength.
Billy was looking at me with what I now recognized as an expression of
lust, sickening pure hunger. He was staring at my chest, and looked my body up
and down.
'Billy, what are you waiting for? Go ahead, man, do whatever you feel
like, she's not gonna argue. Are you, mom?'
I didn't reply. Paul grabbed my hair again, in the same place, and
twisted my head so I was looking at him.
'Are you, mom?' he said with a heavy emphasis in his words.
I shook my head slowly.
'No, Paul, I won't argue.'
Then began my very long evening with Billy...no, I should say, my
evening and my relationship with Billy began.
He put his hands on my breasts, started feeling them. He was already
breathing hard.
'Mom, why don't you take your shirt off? The bra, too, ok?'
I shuddered. Then I pulled my t-shirt over my head, and dropped it.
Then I leaned forward, put my hands behind my back, and unclasped the bra. I
heard Billy gasp, as my tits came loose. There was cool night air coming in
from a couple of open windows, and my nipples stiffened, seemingly as if for
Billy's gross benefit. And then a second teenage boy was touching my tits,
doing so with complete freedom and impunity.
'Jesus, those are great titties. Hey, Norma, do you like the way this
feels?', and he gave my nipples a sudden, vicious little twist. I groaned in
pain.
Paul gave me a quick slap on the top of my head.
'Billy asked you a question, mom. Don't you think you should be polite
and answer him?. And it would also be polite to give him the kind of answer he
wants, right?'
'Yes, Billy, I like the way that feels."
He continued to play with my tits for a few minutes. His hands were
rough and his touch was painful. He kept asking me if I liked what he was
doing, and I kept lying, and assuring him I did.
Then Billy gave my nipples a really painful pinch, and pulled his hands
away.
'I would like to see her pussy, Paul. Is that ok?'
Paul looked at me.
'Hey, mom, is that ok? Billy would like to see that hairy pussy of
yours. I told him how wet you get, and he wants to see for himself.'
I started to undo my jeans.
'Mom, why don't you stand up, so we can get a better look at you.?'
I stood up. I started to unzip my jeans.
'Mom, turn around, so we can see you, ok?' There was now a cruel,
mocking tone to everything Paul was saying.
I turned around, so I was facing the two boys. I finished unzipping my
pants, and I pulled them down to my feet. I kicked them away. I paused for a
moment, but realized I didn't want to give Paul any more opportunities to give
me orders. So before he could say anything, I pulled my panties down, and
kicked them away, too.
Billy's eyes were huge, as he stared fixedly at my pussy. My ex-husband
hadn't liked a hairy pussy, so I had always kept it either shaved or trimmed for
him. But since our separation, I had just let it grow. I knew it was unusually
hairy. And Billy couldn't take his eyes off it.
'Man, what a fucking bush on that cunt!'
Before either of them could say or do anything I stepped closer, and
directly in front of Billy. He reached out, and began groping my pussy.
And then I began to have another of those strange responses, the kind
that I had during parts of the rape, and that I had had ever since with Paul. I
became acutely conscious that I was standing nude, in front of two sixteen year
old boys, one or both of whom were going to be using me any way they wanted.
And it felt...exciting. I was being given to this sickening little pervert, and
he was going to be doing whatever he wanted to with me. As he started to play
with me, he suddenly laughed.
'Paul, man, you were right. She's already starting to get wet!'
It was true. I was turned on, I was aroused by being an available tool
for a young boy's lust. And then I remembered the hard sixteen year old cock of
my son, and I knew that Billy was going to be using a man's tool to get his
pleasure from me.
Billy reached out, and pulled me back down on the couch. I was
astonished once again by how quickly men, even sixteen year old kids, developed
a sense of physical possession over a woman under their control.
'Spread your legs, bitch. Get 'em wide open for me."
I had gone from 'Norma' to 'bitch,' just as soon as I was naked in front
of Billy.
I pulled my feet up on the couch, and spread my legs open.
'Mom, open yourself up, so Billy can play with that little button of
yours. It can be kind of hard to find,' this said again in that infuriatingly
mocking tone.
I opened myself with my fingers. I found my clitoris, and I pulled the
surrounding flesh away, exposing it for Billy's use. He got down on his knees
in front of me. He leaned his face forward, so he could have a close up look at
my pussy.
I thought about how I was exposing myself for this immature little
asshole, and I began to get even wetter. He was looking at me, he was about to
be touching me...he was going to be fucking me. I was basically a sex slave,
being turned over to him for whatever he wanted to do. And that was exciting to
me, and I continued to get wetter. Then he began touching me.
His fingers touched that ultra sensitive nodule of pink flesh, and I
groaned, and moved my pussy forward to meet his rude, invading fingers. I heard
him chuckle at my responsiveness, but didn't' care. No, actually I did care, it
got me even hotter. I realized that it didn't matter that I couldn't stand this
little jerk. He was going to be using me, and I now wanted him to do so. I
wanted him to touch me, until I couldn't stand it anymore. And then he would
fuck me. No, I would plead for him to fuck me, I would beg him to put his cock
in me. It would make me even more turned on to let him know he had that kind of
control over an adult woman. I wanted him to make me writhe, and beg for relief
from him. I wanted him to laugh at what a slut Paul's mom was. And I wanted
him to enjoy thrusting his cock inside of me, and emptying his balls into me.
And I was going to do with him, what I loved to do with Paul, I would come at
the same time he did, so he could know the power that he and his cock had over
me...
He continued to tease my clitoris. Then he put his other hand down
underneath my ass. I felt his fingers searching for my anus, which they quickly
found. He teased me there the way Paul did, by slowly running his finger around
the tight, creased opening. I knew then that Paul had coached him, had told him
the things that would make me excited, the things which would make me moan and
act like a slut. Billy had listened well, and was applying his knowledge well.
I was no longer an adult woman, in control of myself. I was a bundle of
sensations, one my clitoris which Billy was still playing with, and the other
was my asshole, which he now slowly forced his finger into. Then there was a
third sensation, as I felt Paul's hands on my tits, rubbing them, and gently
teasing the now outrageously hardened tips.
It didn't take the two boys long. I was already moaning and writhing.
I arched my back to meet my son's caressing fingers. Then I lifted my ass off
the couch, to afford Billy a better opportunity to probe my rectum. He did so
immediately, pushing his finger roughly in, as far as it would go.
I was panting hoarsely.
'Yes, yes, yes,' I said over and over and over.
'She's getting too excited, the horny slut. Let's slow things down.'
It was Paul's cruel voice. Then I felt all four hands withdrawn from my body.
'No, please don't stop, Paul, Billy, please...'
I heard them both laughing. I was so close to coming...
'Billy, please, touch me, I want you to touch my pussy, I want you to
touch my asshole.'
There was only more laughter.
Then I let myself start to cry, to sob, actually. I didn't have to, I
could have held the tears back, but I wanted them to know how much I needed to
be touched, how much I needed to be fucked. I wanted them to know I was
completely in their power, and that I needed them to give me the relief I was
pleading for.
I continued to cry, my eyes closed. I felt movement from the two boys.
After a minute I opened my eyes.
They were both naked, and they both had raging erections. I was
surprised by Billy's, I don't know what I expected, but it was longer, much
longer than Paul's, which had always seemed more than sufficient to accomplish
its' purposes.
I had the absurd thought that Billy's cock looked like that of a
horse's, it was so long. I couldn't help myself from staring at it. I wondered
how it would feel, entering the tight opening of my vagina. I started to reach
for it, but Paul grabbed my hands, and held them.
'Billy, are you just gonna let her touch you, without permission?'
Billy laughed.
'No, man, the little slut needs to ask me real nice.'
Billy then came close to. He held his member in one hand, and started
waving it in front of me.
'Please, Billy, let me touch it, ok?' Paul kept a firm grip on my
hands.
'Hey, Paul, what could she do to show how much she wants to touch my
dick?'
The way he asked the question, it sounded rehearsed. Then I realized,
it was, a lot of this was planned out, designed to embarrass me, and to
humiliate me.
'Why don't you have her eat your asshole, Billy?'
'Hey, that sounds cool. How about it, Norma, you want to touch my dick
so bad, how about putting that tongue in that hole I shit out of? It should
taste pretty good, I haven't taken a shower in a couple of days, but I've sure
had a couple of good dumps those two days.'
They were both looking at me, both smiling.
'Billy, please, may I...can I put my tongue inside you?'
'Inside what, Norma?'
'Inside your asshole. Please, Billy. I'll do it really nice, you'll
like it, I swear.'
I knew this whole thing about his asshole was a charade, a way to
degrade me. But I now was more than willing to go along, I wanted to be
degraded. I couldn't stop them from degrading me, so I would exert what control
I could, and do it even more than they expected. I wanted them both to know I
was just a helpless slut in their control.
I suddenly got on my knees in front of Billy.
'Please, honey, turn around, so I can do you. I want to taste you. I
want to...I want to taste your asshole, please.'
'God damn,' Billy said hoarsely. He turned around, and got on his hands
and knees. He pushed his ass back, and up. I moved right up to him. I put my
hands on his cheeks. I slowly spread his cheeks open.
I looked at the brownish puckered opening. I moved my fingers to the
creased circle of his anus. I then pulled it open. I could see the dark
opening, leading into his rectum. I felt a rush of wet warmth between my legs,
as I looked at his hole. I was going to put my tongue in this disgusting
sixteen year old punk's rectum. I had begged to put my tongue inside it. And
then I did exactly that.
First I rimmed his anus with my tongue. It wasn't easy, because he
started moving his ass, as soon as he felt my tongue. But I stuck with it, and
continued to circle it. Then I pushed my tongue forward, inside him. He
groaned loudly, as he felt my tongue begin to circle the inside of his rectum,
pushing as deeply as it would go. He did taste faintly of feces, but I was able
to control my gag reflex. I thought about Paul watching me do this disgusting
thing, to this disgusting boy, all of which Paul had orchestrated. I knew that
Paul was feeling a greater sense of power over me than ever before, and that
knowledge made me even wetter.
I continued to service his anus and rectum with my tongue. I no longer
needed my hands to open him, so I began to tease my fingers over his balls with
one hand, and with the other I grabbed his cock. When I felt his large, stiff
rod inside my hand, I began to move my tongue faster and deeper inside of him.
I wanted to earn the right to suck his cock, and then I wanted to feel it inside
me.
After a couple of minutes, Billy pulled away from me.
'Get on the couch,' he said, and grabbed my hand and pulled me to my
feet. I went to the couch and sat down. He sat next to me.
'Get on your hands and knees, and suck my dick.'
I moved to my hands and knees. I bent my head over his lap. I reached
out and touched his cock. Then I put my mouth on him. I kept it over his head,
which was already slick with his moisture. I stroked his shaft, with a long and
firm grasp.
Billy reached his hands around the sides and underneath my chest, and
began squeezing and stroking my hanging breasts. Then he started to push them,
firmly but gently. I heard him groan as he saw and felt my tits swinging, as he
pushed them. He started to slap them, softly, and that made them swing faster.
I started to groan, too. He was groaning, and his cock was throbbing in my
mouth, as he played with me. I knew that he was exhilarated at having an adult
woman, a woman twice his age, a woman who was the mother of his friend, sucking
on his cock, while he was slapping her tits.
Billy was no longer disgusting to me. He was a young male, who was
enjoying using my body. I loved the feel of his youthful, hard cock, I loved
the salty taste of the fluid leaking out of his opening. And I loved the way he
was so turned on by me. His arousal had my pussy beginning to drip with its'
wetness.
After a couple of more minutes, he moved my head off of his red,
pulsating penis.
'Stand up in front of me, Norma.'
I got up, and stood on the couch, my pussy directly in front of his
face. He put his hands on my ass, and pulled my pussy against his face. I felt
his tongue licking me, snaking in under the hood which concealed my clitoris.
His tongue found it, and he began flicking it.
I remember moaning and whimpering, as he teased me with his tongue.
He continued to use his tongue on me, moving it between the sides of my
labia, up and down, then side to side. The more I whimpered, the more energetic
his tongue became.
'Do you like having your pussy eaten, Norma?'
'Yes,' I whispered hoarsely.
He reached up and started playing with my tits again, never stopping the
use of his tongue. I couldn't take any more.
'Please, Billy, I want you.'
He laughed.
'What is it you want?'
'I want to you inside. Please, Billy, I want your cock. Can I sit on
it? Please?'
His answer was to start to pull me down towards his lap. I lowered
myself, until my vagina was poised directly over his cock. His cock was still
moving, so I held it still with my right hand. Then I lowered myself on to it,
in one fluid motion. I was so wet, I slid easily all the way down his length,
to his balls.
He began to pump himself up and down into me. He began suckling at each
tit, taking turns moving from one nipple to the other.
'God, I love this!,' I cried out, visualizing in my mind the sight of my
complete lewd surrender to this immature sixteen year old, my surrender to the
power and force of his youthful cock, and mouth and hands. I pictured to myself
what other people, other adults would think, if they could see us fucking like
this.
I was crying out, and moaning, and whimpering, letting Billy know his
complete control over me. I wondered what he felt, at reducing an adult to the
frenzied display I was putting on. I didn't care, though, I loved the way his
cock felt inside me.
And then I felt Paul's hand move into the crack of my ass. He put a
finger in my asshole, and jammed it inside, deep and hard.
I came as the two boys used both my holes. I was beside myself, as I
moved up and down on Billy's cock. I came as I was thrusting down on his
impaling cock as hard as I could.
I shuddered, as I finished coming.
And then I heard Billy starting to grunt, and he began pushing himself
up into me, as far and as hard as he could. I gasped at the force of his organ,
as I felt it touch the cervix, at the very edge of my pussy. He emptied himself
into me, making animalistic grunts as he did.
Paul left a few minutes later.
Billy and I ended up going into the bedroom. We fucked, on and off, the
rest of the night. I gave myself repeatedly to the sixteen year old boy who had
conquered me with his cock.
He used me in every way a man can use a woman. He had me suck him. He
had me lay on my back, and expose myself obscenely by pulling my legs back as
far as they would go, and then entered me with brutal force. He made me rub
Vaseline on his cock, then had me lay my chest on the bed, my ass high in the
air, while he fucked my asshole. I grunted loudly each time he rammed me with
his cock.
It was while he was taking me this way, that I heard voices. Paul and
Janice had come into the bedroom. Billy never stopped his thrusting into my
rectum. In fact, he seemed turned on by the audience, as he picked up the pace
and the force of his thrusts.
'You're right, Paul. She is an unbelievable slut. Look at her taking
it in the ass.' Janice's voice dripped with contempt and venom.
And despite their presence, and despite the sarcasm of my son's
girlfriend, as she watched me being sodomized, I continued to grunt each time
Billy rammed it home. Even though I hated Janice for her words, hated her so
that I would soon have cause to regret my hatred of her, I loved the knowledge
that they were watching Billy's long, thick cock, buried deeply in my rectum, I
was excited that they saw it tightly encircled by my anus.
Paul and Janice soon left, and went into Paul's room, where they closed
the door. Billy and I spent the rest of the night together, in my bed. I felt
bitter and jealous that Paul was spending the night with a girl. But that
didn't stop me from letting Billy use me every way he wanted...
The next morning, I went out to the kitchen, to make breakfast for Billy
and I. Janice was there, looking in the refrigerator. I lost it.
'You fucking little bitch! I want you out of my house! Now, god damn
it, get your ass out of here.'
Suddenly, I realized that Paul was standing there.
'If she leaves, I'm leaving too. And I won't be back.'
I was shocked. And I was scared. He seemed to mean it. I believed
him. Now I wanted to pull back from this sudden brink.
Before I could say anything, Janice pushed it even further.
'Fuck her. I'm gone.'
'OK, let's go,' Paul said.
'Wait,' I said in a panic. 'Paul, she can stay, ok?'
Paul looked at Janice, who stared at me. I saw anger in her face,
anger, but also a sense of...triumph.
'I wouldn't stay if this fucking slut begged me. Let's go Paul.'
Now I was really scared. I sensed that I could really be on the verge
of losing my son.
'Janice...I'm sorry. Please. I was just, I was really upset by what
you said last night. But let's forget it, OK, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.'
But now she knew I was frightened and desperate. She realized that my
fear put me at her mercy.
'No. Paul and I are leaving.' She looked over at Paul, and so did I.
He had a slight smile on his face.
'Hey, Janice, maybe she can make it up to you somehow. If she's really
sorry, I mean.'
Janice laughed.
'I think she's a liar. She's not sorry. She just wants to keep her
baby here. Her baby, the one she likes to have fucking her,' Janice said with a
sneer.
Billy had come out, and was listening silently. I knew he and Janice
were friends. That was how Paul had ended up knowing Janice, through Billy.
Suddenly he spoke.
'C'mon, Janice. Maybe she means it. Isn't there anything she can do to
make it up to you?'
All of us waited silently, as Janice just stared at me with a look of
venom.
'The slut needs to be punished. She deserves it. But I don't think she
cares enough about you to take what she deserves, Paul.'
The three of them looked at me. They waited for my response.
I felt despair. I had to give in to her.
'What do...what do you want me to do?'
Janice smiled, meanly, a smile that was vindictive and triumphant at the
same time. I became convinced that the depth of degradation I had already sunk
to was going to would achieve even lower depths.
But I really had no idea about how bad it would be...
