A mother is forced to seduce her son…and enjoys it!
To this day, I’m not sure why this happened…only that it did and that it changed my life forever. I suppose I will wonder until the day I die if it was truly a good thing or a bad thing. I certainly didn’t have a clue what was in store for me when I picked up the phone…
I am a loan officer with a small regional bank in Indiana. I am married and at the time of this…event, I was forty-three years old. My husband, Dale is a good man, rather too devoted to his job in insurance, but I know he loves me and our kids. At the time of the…event, my daughter Kim, was twenty-one and a junior at a good university in Florida. My son, John, had just turned eighteen and was beginning his senior year in high school. My name is Connie.
I was at work when the call was transferred to my office. “Hi, this is Connie Hall in loans, how can I help you?”
“WELL, CONNIE IN LOANS, IF ALL WORKS OUT, WE WILL BE HELPING EACH OTHER.” The voice at the other end was a bit garbled and washed out, as if a real voice was going through some sort of device to disguise it.
“Um, okay. May I ask who’s calling please?”
“NO YOU MAY NOT AND DO NOT HANG UP THE PHONE, CONNIE. NOT IF YOU VALUE YOUR FAMILY’S LIFE!”
In truth I was already starting to hang up, we get cranks a lot, mostly people pissed off at the bank for one reason or another, but the last words halted my hand and I slowly drew the phone back to my ear. “Who is this? What are you saying?” I could feel the slightest bit of hysteria in my voice.
“YOU HAVE A TASK AHEAD OF YOU, CONNIE HALL. I HAVE FAITH THAT YOU WILL CARRY IT OUT WITH FLYING COLORS, BUT I KNOW YOU WILL NEED INCENTIVE. IF YOU TRULY LOVE YOUR FAMILY, YOU WILL LISTEN CAREFULLY AND DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD.”
I wasn’t sure what was going on. I glanced at the closed door to my small office, wondering if I should try and get someone’s attention. Anyone who works in a bank has heard the stories of how criminals will sometimes threaten bank employees’ families to extort money. My heart began to race as I wondered if I was about to be used in such a way.
“Surely you don’t mean to rob the bank by threatening me and my family? It never works.” My mind was racing, trying to remember my family’s whereabouts.
“I SAID YOU NEED TO LISTEN CAREFULLY, CONNIE. SHUT UP AND LISTEN OR I’LL MAKE SURE YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER ARE ON THE EVENING NEWS AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!”
My heart dropped into my stomach and I felt a wave of dizziness sweep over me. In a small, quiet voice, I replied, “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m listening.”
“EXCELLENT. FIRST, LET ME ESTABLISH MY PARTICULARS. I HAVE WATCHED YOU FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW, CONNIE. YOU ARE UNDER CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE — MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT. SO IS YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY. RIGHT NOW, YOUR HUSBAND IS FLYING TO RHODE ISLAND FOR A WEEKEND SEMINAR. KIM HAS THREE CLASSES TODAY — AN ENLIGHTENMENT LITERATURE CLASS, CALCULUS AND A RELIGION & PHILOSOPHY CLASS WHICH IF SHE KEEPS TO HER USUAL HABITS, SHE’LL BLOW OFF TO GET A START ON HER FRIDAY NIGHT PARTYING. YOU EVEN SCOLDED HER THIS MORNING ON THE PHONE ABOUT SLACKING OFF.”
My stomach was now doing flip-flops. How did he know about my conversation with my daughter? “H-how did you know that?” I said in a tight whisper. “Is my — did you bug my phone?”
“I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, CONNIE. I AM ALWAYS WATCHING AND LISTENING. I KNOW THAT YOUR HUSBAND BOUGHT THE LATEST EDITION OF ESQUIRE THIS MORNING AT THE AIRPORT TO READ ON HIS FLIGHT. I KNOW THAT JOHN MASTURBATED THIS MORNING TO SOME INTERNET PORN BEFORE COMING DOWN FOR BREAKFAST. I KNOW THAT KIM HAD COFFEE AFTER THIS MORNING’S CLASS WITH A BOY SHE HOPES TO SOON FUCK, AND I KNOW YOU ARE WEARING BLACK FRENCH BIKINI PANTIES RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT.”
“Omigod,” I said as I felt myself on the verge of fainting. I tried to steady my breathing until the black clouds at the edge of my vision began to fade. My heart seemed so loud as it pounded inside my chest. How did he know what I was wearing? Dale and John had both left the house before I’d showered and dressed for work. I’d seen them off still wearing an old flannel nightgown. “What do you want? I can try and get you money, but I’m not sure how much I can manage.” Who was this guy and how did he know all this? Did he have cameras in our home?
“I HAVE NO INTEREST IN MONEY. I AM NOT TRYING TO ROB YOUR BANK. THIS IS MORE…PERSONAL. CONNIE, I WANT YOU TO FUCK YOUR SON.”
Silence hung between us as my brain tried to process what the caller had said. His words seemed to jumble up in my mind, nonsensical at first. Not wanting money? Sex? Fucking…to fuck my…my son?” I ran my hand through my hair, rubbing my scalp furiously as if to get my brain to warm up and work. “Wait…what? You want me to what?” I babbled, trying to give myself time to process what he had said.
“YOU HEARD ME, CONNIE. YOU ARE GOING TO FUCK YOUR SON. YOU WILL SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND LET JOHN BURY HIS COCK INSIDE YOU!”
“I can’t do that!” I cried as his words suddenly crashed in on me, sending shivers of revulsion through me. “That’s awful!”
“OH, I ASSURE YOU THAT YOU CAN DO IT, CONNIE AND THAT YOU WILL DO IT. LISTEN CAREFULLY, CONNIE, BECAUSE THE CLOCK IS NOW RUNNING. YOU WILL SEDUCE AND FUCK YOUR SON BY MIDNIGHT TONIGHT OR YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER WILL NOT LIVE TO SEE TOMORROW’S SUNRISE!”
I let out a sob and covered my mouth to stifle it. I struggled to regain control, finally blurting out, “I can’t. John would never…for God’s sake, I’m his mother!”
“YOU WILL, CONNIE, YOU WILL FUCK HIM OR THE REST OF YOUR FAMILY DIES. PAY ATTENTION NOW. IF YOU TRY AND EXPLAIN TO YOUR SON WHAT IS HAPPENING, YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER DIE. SHOULD YOU CALL YOUR HUSBAND OR DAUGHTER AND ATTEMPT TO WARN THEM, THEY WILL BE DEAD BEFORE YOU HANG UP THE PHONE. SAME THING APPLIES SHOULD YOU TRY AND CONTACT THE AUTHORITIES. I WILL KILL THEM!”
A cold shiver ran through my body as this almost inhuman voice calmly told me his rules. Any thought of calling the police or the FBI evaporated in the cold certainty of his words. I absolutely believed that he would do what he said he would do.
“WHAT TIME IS IT, CONNIE?”
For a moment, his unexpected question caught me off guard. I struggled for a moment to understand and then looked down at my watch…the lovely gold wristwatch Dale had given me for our 20th Anniversary. I swallowed and replied, “It’s a few, um minutes to twelve, um noon.”
“GOOD. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER, CONNIE? YOU HAVE JUST OVER TWELVE HOURS TO SEDUCE YOUR SON AND MAKE HIM YOUR LOVER. FAILURE TO DO SO BY MIDNIGHT WILL RESULT IN DALE’S AND KIM’S DEATH. YOU ARE NOW RACING AGAINST THE CLOCK, CONNIE. YOUR SON USUALLY GETS HOME FROM CLASSES AROUND THREE — I’D START PREPARING IF I WERE YOU.”
“Oh God, yes, I think I understand. After I fuck my…after it happens, how do I get in touch?”
There was an almost obscene chuckle at the other end. “TRUST ME, CONNIE. THE FIRST TIME JOHN SINKS HIS COCK INSIDE HIS MOTHER’S CUNT, I’LL KNOW.” He laughed again and then continued, “OH, AND CONNIE?”
“Y-yes?” I replied, fearful of what he might demand of me next.
He hung up then, the line going dead for a moment and then it seemed as if the entire room was filled with that terrible drone of a dial tone. I sat there in total shock, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The entire conversation had only lasted a few minutes. My entire world turned upside down in the span of a short telephone conversation.
I broke down crying — sobbing loudly as the terribleness of the situation just overwhelmed me. There was no way I could do what the caller demanded and yet I was consumed by a terrible certainty that if I didn’t do this…if I didn’t somehow seduce my son and fuck him, this madman would kill the rest of my family. If he had me under surveillance, there was no way I could go to the police for help. Even so, my hand was already reaching for the phone to dial 9-1-1, before I realized what I was doing. My fingers hovered over the phone set for several minutes as my mind raced and tried to find another solution. Nothing came to mind and I shivered with fear and worry until the clock on my desk gave a gentle bong and I jumped, startled out of my reverie of fear and disbelief. I glanced at the digital device’s readout display. It was 12:00 P.M. It was noon.
Twelve hours. I had twelve hours. That suddenly became the overwhelming thought in my head. I made my decision. My hands punched up a number on the phone and I said, “Dora? Connie here. I’ve had a family emergency come up and I’m taking the rest of the day. Let everyone know, okay.” Words of concern and sympathy came back and I replied, “No, everything will be okay, I think, but I have to go take care of some things. Have a good weekend, hun.”
Five minutes later, I was in my car, driving towards home and wondering how the hell I was going to do what I was being forced to do. A terrible thought of “Is this some weird trick of John’s?” occurred to me, but I dismissed that out of hand. I know that many reading my story assume that every son wants to fuck his mother and vice-versa, but I had never seen even a hint of sexual interest from my son. Not that John didn’t like girls — he’d peeked a few times at his sister when he hit puberty and I’d found porn on his computer, mostly young women with huge breasts and some lesbian things. I’d scolded him mildly, but wrote it off as normal and to be honest, healthy. And then there are my son’s social skills or lack of them.
John’s a shy boy — eighteen now and I think he’s only ever actually asked three girls out on date and only two ever accepted and there were no repeat performances. I haven’t been able to get my son to trade in his glasses for contacts and he’s just a shade on the husky side. I hate to admit it, but his sister’s favorite term for him — nerd, is very accurate. He’s a bookworm — happier with a thick fantasy novel than most anything else. He tends to clam up whenever a young woman is in the room. My greatest fear now was that if I just asked John to fuck me, he’d run and lock himself in his room — even if I wasn’t his Mom.
And it’s not like I’m anyone’s idea of a — what do they call it? I’m not a MILF. I’m forty-three years old and stand five foot, four inches tall. I’m a good twenty pounds over what my appropriate weight should be. I have 38DD breasts — not those artificial beach balls that my son seems to like looking at, but heavy and somewhat sagging breasts and a little bit of a belly. I have short blonde — almost white hair and blue eyes, which are the only good things I inherited from the Swedes on my mother’s side of the family. My legs aren’t too bad, but my thighs are thicker than I want or what I’d consider attractive, despite hours and hours on the treadmill. In my greatest leaps of imagination, I couldn’t imagine my son finding me sexy.
I began mulling over how I could pull this off and each idea seemed doomed to failure. How the hell does one make their son think of them as someone they’d like to fuck? I got out of downtown and on the expressway leading home. Suddenly I saw an exit sign that named one of our area’s largest malls. Inspiration or maybe simple desperation struck and I crossed three lanes of traffic, leaving honking horns and some obscene gestures in my wake. I had the vaguest hint of an idea and little time to get what I needed.
I smiled then, no doubt a strained, even horrific smile, but a smile nonetheless as the thought occurred that in order to save my family, I needed to do a little shopping.
I’m not sure how I did it, but by three- thirty, when I expected to hear my son’s old Dodge come rumbling up the driveway, I had everything in place for what I was hoping would be a successful seduction. I could barely believe I could actually contemplate such a thing, but terrible images of Dale and Kim keep me on my path. I began to panic as it was another hour before I heard John pull into the driveway.
I was in the kitchen pulling some brownies out of the oven when I heard him unlock the front door. I heard the thump of books being dumped on the couch and his footsteps treading down the hallway towards me. “Hi, sweetie,” I called out. “Welcome home!”
Before he came through the doorway, I could hear him say, “Mom! You’re home early, what’s up?” I heard his feet come to a sudden halt and I knew he was surprised about more than me being home early.
Since the days when he was little and we could take a bath together, he’d not seen me showing off this much skin and I doubt he really remembered doing that anyway. I’d found a little sundress — intentionally a bit small for me, that tied in a halter around my neck with a plunging neckline and an even deeper plunge in back, almost to my hips and with a hemline that ended barely south of my crotch. I was wearing “fuck me” pumps that I thought improved the look of my legs and with my back to him and bent over in front of the oven, I’m sure he was getting a real good view of my bikini clad ass.
I looked over my shoulder at him and said, “Yeah, decided to take the afternoon off — hit the mall and buy a few new things. What do you think of my new dress?”
John swallowed — his eyes widening and his face turning bright red even before he managed to mutter. “It’s um, real pretty, Mom. Uh, I got some homework to…um, do.” I hoped him blushing was a good thing and idly wondered how much I was blushing. I felt so embarrassed being dressed like that in front of my own son.
John began to beat a retreat, but I straightened up and turned with a tray of my secret weapons in hand. “Oh honey, you got the entire weekend to do that. I thought with Dad off doing another business trip, you and I could have some quality time together.” I lifted the tray, feeling the warmth radiating across my mostly uncovered breasts. My heart was beating in fear as I said, “I made your favorite — brownies!”
John actually took a step or two towards the hallway, but then the scent of my homemade brownies reached him and his teenaged appetite won out over his shock at his mother’s shameful outfit and he looked hungrily down at them. “C’mon, son — fresh out of the oven — all hot and gooey, the way you like them.”
He swallowed and then nodded, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table as he focused his attention on the sweets and not on his mother’s body. I sat the tray down in front of him and then crossed the room to get us some plates and forks. I came up behind him and reached around to set the plate in front of him, leaning my body into his, my breasts mashing against his back.
“To tell the truth, I’ve been looking forward to spending some time alone with my baby boy. Soon, you’ll be going off to college and getting married and having kids and I’ll never see you,” I said, still leaning into him as I reached around and cut a brownie out of the pan and set it into his plate.
My son shifted nervously in his seat, making my breasts rub against him all the more which I suppose explained the rise of goose bumps along his arms. “Yeah, me married and kids — that’ll be the day,” he said in that tone of sarcasm that only a teenager can create.
I finished by giving him a big hug, pulling him tight against my body as I said, “Oh some girl is going to be mighty lucky when she manages to snag you!” I leaned my head in and kissed John on the cheek and said in a lower, huskier voice, “Very lucky.” Then, feeling my face burn with embarrassment, I let him go and hurried to the sink, facing away from him to keep him from seeing my reddened face. I hoped he was still watching me, but was afraid to turn around and see.
I busied myself with washing the dirty dishes in the sink and worked to keep the conversation alive. “So, how was school today?” I asked.
I heard my son give a snort and then say through a mouthful of brownies, “Sucked as usual. I’ll be so glad to graduate. That civics teacher is a real bore.”
I kept up the inquiring questions and John let me know how much he disliked school. Finally, I said, “Well, I’m sorry your day sucked, honey. I’ve had some fun — I played hooky all afternoon and went shopping.” I took a deep breath and turned to face my son and was rewarded to see that he was staring at me as he ate.
He ducked his head down to avoid my gaze and paying attention to his brownie, asked me the leading question I had hoped he would ask. “You never take off work, Mom. What’s the special occasion?”
I came over to the table and sat down across from him, crossing my arms and resting them on the table, using them to push my breasts up, making them overflow the low cut front even more. “Well, sweetie, I’ve been thinking. You know I got a nice raise recently?”
John nodded and ate more of his brownie, trying as he did to look me in the eye, but unable to keep his gaze from drifting down to the exposed flesh of my big breasts.
“I thought that during your fall break, your dad and I could take some days off and we take a family trip down to the Bahamas. I got the urge to go buy some new things to wear on the trip, like this little dress.”
John nodded again and said, “Um, yeah, that’d be awesome, Mom — if Dad would take the time.” He rolled his eyes. “You know how he is.”
It was my turn to nod and I replied, “Yes, I do and that’s the whole point. We could all go down — you can hang out on the beach and watch the girls in their bikinis and maybe your Dad and I could spice up our love life a little.” I gave my son a wink and then giggled, “If you know what I mean?”
The redness in John’s face which had begun to fade now flamed anew and he got a panicked look on his face and exclaimed, “Aw, geezus, Mom! I mean…Geezus!”
I laughed and reached out and took his hand. “Oh, don’t act embarrassed, sweetie. You’re eighteen now — you’re a man. You know your father and I do it…at least we used to. Otherwise, how did we get you?”
John was going on instinct, trying to push away from the table, but unable to while I held his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but for crying out loud, Mom — TMI!”
I tried to look a little hurt. “Sorry — but I, I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that big a deal. We’re both adults at this table.” I looked down at the table. “I mean, you’re eighteen now — a grown man. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” I felt a little ashamed as I tried to make him feel a little guilty.
#mother #forced #seduce #sonand #enjoys