A Reluctant Corruption Ch. 02

This story is long. It is a sequel to my first, 'A Reluctant Corruption.' I would love feedback, and I hope you enjoy it.

*

"I miss you too baby," my mother coos into the monitor of her laptop. Her succulent, pink lips purse forward into a convincing pout. Wary of my position on the bed, she keeps the screen slightly askew so that I remain hidden from my father. All he can see is his hot wife lounging against some pillows in a flimsy white shirt and black diamond necklace.

'Ignorance is bliss.'

The bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin make him look older than I'm used to seeing him.

He shakes his head dejectedly. "They keep stringing me along and stalling any talk about the merger... I'm seriously considering just catching an early flight home."

'Fuck.'

I look to my mother.

She bites her lip, deliberately concealing her frustration and maintaining the demeanor of a concerned housewife.

"Do you think that's wise dear? You don't want to insult them by walking away prematurely," she cautions.

My father dismisses her point. "I'm not worried about the blowback. Besides, with everything you've had to deal with lately, you should be begging me to head back."

"What is that supposed to mean?" My mother raises an eyebrow.

"Well since I've been in Italy, your credit card's been stolen, you've hardly answered my calls, and then there's always Jake..." He gives a wry chuckle.

"Jake?" My mother repeats.

"Oh please, Miranda," my father continues. "It's no secret that you and our son don't get along. Without me to mediate, it's only a matter of time till you two are at each other's throats. I wouldn't be surprised if you've kicked the poor kid out already."

"You don't have to worry about Jake and me," she assures, giving a subtle smirk.

'Not in the way you think at least.'

My father mutters something sarcastically, and my mother rolls her eyes.

'She's losing patience with him.'

Turning her face away from the computer, she looks at me. Her sapphire blues flash suggestively down my body. A few weeks ago, the prospect of lying naked in bed with my mother would have repulsed me. Hell, even being in the same room had been aggravating. For so long, she had considered me a major inconvenience; the one person that saw right through her act; the one man she couldn't simply manipulate with a revealing dress or some flirtatious eye contact. But that had all changed at the beginning of summer. The standoffish attitude and spiteful remarks that had dominated her character for years essentially ceased overnight. Suddenly, she was filled with affection for me. I'd say it was as if her maternal instinct had finally kicked in, but that would be understating it. The change was so drastic that I originally doubted its sincerity. I convinced myself that her bizarre behavior must be part of some bigger plan to get me tossed out of the house quicker. And in the end, I was half right. She did have an agenda, but it didn't register to me, until her advances became overtly sexual, that her goal was to seduce me. That revelation alone was startling. But even more shocking was when I ultimately failed to resist her lewd and promiscuous attempts.

For a chilling second, I imagine her twisting the laptop in my direction and revealing the last week to be a horrific scheme meant to turn my father against me. My fear dissipates as she slants forward though, reaching over my nude body to take a bottle from her nightstand. She plants a quick peck on my cheek, and I swallow hard. The proximity of my father's attention makes me anxious.

"Hello??" I hear him say blindly.

"I'm just putting on some lotion." My mother pops the cap and squeezes a healthy dollop of the white cream onto her palm. She smiles wickedly before moving back to the monitor.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that Jake and I have actually been getting along much better?" A hypnotically sweet, apricot fragrance settles around the bed as she begins rubbing the lotion up her arms, around her shoulders, and down her legs. It gives her olive skin an alluring sheen.

"Well it would definitely surprise me. How'd you two manage to patch things up?" My father inquires skeptically.

'You don't want to know.'

"We spent some quality time bonding with one another," my mother expresses innocently. Her fingers glide nonchalantly across the cool bed sheets until they stop just outside his frame and next to me.

'Don't.'

As my father speaks, she delicately lifts her hand to my stomach and begins tracing my abs with her index finger. Her crimson nails tenderly skim around my navel, producing a tickling sensation. The memory of those nails wildly clawing into my back causes my penis to twitch.

'This is wrong...'

My father continues babbling. Listening to him only makes each moment feel more inappropriate. I glance at my mother, but she's engaged in maintaining the illusion of a normal conversation.

"...it's only a few more days," she relays persuasively. "Go outside, enjoy Italy, don't waste your energy rushing back."

I watch helplessly as her hand gradually descends further down my body.

My father argues. "I'm not here for vacation, Miranda. In fact, watching all the happy couples stroll about is starting to depress me. I know you weren't feeling well before I left so I didn't press it, but we haven't fucked since our anniversary, and I'm going to need some serious relief when I get home."

'Too much information dad.'

"Oh honey," my mother muses, "I can't promise I'll be in the mood."

Her palm runs down my shaft. Gritting my teeth, I grab her disobedient wrist and drop it back onto the mattress. I mouth the word "stop," but as I protest, her fingers wrap around my rapidly growing erection, giving it a loving squeeze. My eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Can't you just... make yourself in the mood?" Appeals my father.

She strokes down to the base of my dick before responding, "You can't rush these things, dear."

I inhale sharply. Her hand, still warm and slick with oil, massages my swollen cock. Somewhere inside me, my conscience desperately fights for air.

I hear my father mumble in a disgruntled tone. "Fucking ridiculous."

My mother discreetly leers at her handiwork from the corner of her eyes. She sucks at her top lip, admiring the teenage cock in her hand. She seems completely immune to the guilt that nags at me. Her deceitful hand begins pumping my dick with methodical perseverance.

I can tell she's getting aroused too. Her shapely, feminine thighs quiver slightly as my prick reaches full mast. She instinctively licks her lips. A bead of sweat drips from my forehead as the temperature around us begins to heighten with sexual energy.

"You sure you're alright? You're looking a bit flushed," my father says peering through the screen at his lust-ridden wife.

"I feel great," my mother replies in a heavy breath. She flips a strand of her dark brown hair from her pretty face.

"I still think you should go in for a checkup," my father continues. "At the very least, they'll be able to prescribe something for your low sex drive."

I clench my eyes shut as my mother increases the pace of the hand job. Her legs clasp together, and the apricot scented lotion starts to blend with a muskier smell that only increases my libido.

"I don't need a prescription baby..." I hear my mother tease.

'I'll second that!'

The pressure of her grip around my, now rock-hard, cock is like a vise.

I can no longer tell what is fueling my inner struggle; the fact that my father might find out, or that each passing second my mother and I are delving further into the depths of depravity.

'How does she stay composed with her husband right there?'

My mother conveys a compassionate smile before reflecting. "It might not feel like it, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Maybe this is exactly what our relationship needs."

'To utterly adulterate it.'

"We could try fooling around right now," my father urges.

I tense as my mother's hand freezes mid pump. She cocks her head coyly. The devilish glint in her eye comes across even sexier with the black eyeliner she's wearing. "We can't baby, Jake's home right now and..."

My father interrupts. "Pfft... Jake's not coming into our room. You wouldn't be wearing that skimpy nightshirt if you really believed he was about to barge in."

"The only reason she's even wearing that is because you wanted to video chat."

My penis jerks in dismay. The warm friction between my mother's still hand is excruciatingly suspenseful. She rebuts. "He uses our shower sometimes."

"Yeah," my father agrees, "but never when you're around. Face it, the kid just isn't a mama's boy, he avoids you like the plague."

"Mhm," my mother murmurs. She gently strums her fingers against my pulsing member, sending tiny shivers down my groin. "I guess you're right dear, it's fair to say I've been a bad mother." Her thighs momentarily squeeze together as she completes the thought.

'Most would say sinful.'

"Don't beat yourself up. Teenagers are notoriously rude and tough to deal with," my father justifies.

'Oh, fuck that. Don't pin my conduct on teenage angst. Not after all the shit y... OH fuck!'

I grimace as my mother starts kneading the mushroom head of my dick.

"They're also very hardheaded," she adds.

My mind begins to fog with hormones again. Only the shame of collaborating in this perverse betrayal of her marriage keeps me from lolling my head back in a state of euphoria. Instead, I fight the impulse to look at her.

"So... how about you slip off that shirt?" My father requests sleazily. His tone irks me. My eyebrows furrow when I realize why.

'Jealousy?'

The notion breaks my concentration and prompts me to peek at my mother. Immoral thoughts course through me as I soak her in. Where many women approaching 40 might let themselves go, giving in to the pressures of stress and aging, it is not the case with her. The priority she's placed on remaining physically attractive is impressive: she eats healthily, utilizes a variety of high-end lotions and potions, restricts her wardrobe to only attire that is worthy of her hourglass figure, and always spends the extra minute in the mirror to ensure that her makeup is flawless. It may sound vain and narcissistic, but it enables her to get what she wants most of the time.

I observe how the light reflects off her glossy brunette hair, creating natural highlights and making her face appear radiant. Her clear complexion would be the envy of any teenage girl. I feel the veins of my shaft pulse precariously.

She lets out a cute sigh before finally responding to my father, "I guess that would be alright." Her free hand reaches for the underside of her top. I can practically sense my father squirm with anticipation. My eyes adhere to the outline of the magnificent melons confined within her shirt. I bite the inner part of my cheek. The fabric does little to camouflage her arousal. Her hardening nipples jut out eagerly. She milks the moment; inching the shirt up her taut stomach.

"Keep going," my father encourages.

My mother flutters her eyelashes mischievously. "Promise to stay in Italy till you have the merger sorted."

"I... I've been trying," my father stammers impatiently.

Her perfect lips curve into a playful smile.

'She's loving this.'

She stretches, arching her back and thrusting her beckoning cleavage closer to the computer's camera. I catch the glint of her anniversary necklace strung above her chest. A yearning to feel her, kiss her, and ravage her, all but overtakes me. I imagine scooping her to my side of the bed, freeing her tits from the thin cloth barrier, and hammering my throbbing cock into her. Knowing that we'd be broadcasting our incestuous union to my clueless father makes the demented thought even more disconcerting.

My precum spurts out, coating my mother's elegant fingers.

'Snap out of it.'

I shudder. It's one thing to desire fucking a woman as pretty as my mother, but to take pride in her infidelity and such deceit...

"Mmmm..." she purrs softly as her thumb and pointer finger lightly pinch the tip of my joystick. My father is too absorbed ogling her ample bosom to notice.

His breaths are labored. He scrunches his face. "Ahh, I promise already. Just let me see them!" There's relief in his voice, yet it provokes me. I feel the green-eyed beast inside me flare its nostrils.

'So, what if he gets to see them? At least he's agreed not to come home early. Be grateful idiot!'

The logic is sound, but the pangs of bitterness persist. It strikes me that, though my father has no direct influence on the taboo relationship developing between me and my mother, his mere existence makes the whole situation more insidious. I had taken his wife in the most intimate of ways. Fucked her repeatedly in their marital bed. Worshipped her body in a way no son ever should. And, I can't deny, relished in the notion of displacing him as the man of the house.

"Come on!" My father begs.

My mother strips the rest of the shirt off in one swift sexy motion, only unlocking her grip on my manhood for a split second to toss the top off the bed. It lands near a pile of other abandoned articles that have been accumulating over the last day. She leans back against the pillows giving me a full view of her luscious body. My mouth waters at the sight of her firm round breasts. Every time I see them, the forbidden delicious assets reduce me to my baser instincts. Smooth, ample, and a bit red from all the attention they've been receiving lately, my cock jolts from the boosted visual stimulation. I reach downward, surrendering to the lust that is my mother incarnate. I'm desperate to satiate my own horniness. I make contact with her hand, which is now tugging at my cock mercilessly. She shoots me a glare. To prove I'm not trying to stop her this time, I fasten my hand to hers, intertwining our fingers together, and dragging them up and down my shaft. Her skin is warm and moist.

She smiles again. The heartbeat in my ears is so loud that I can't tell if my father is saying anything. All I want is release.

'She looks like a goddess.'

Her sun kissed skin, curvy figure, and beautiful perky boobs, permeate in my mind.

"One minute," she says into the monitor.

I can't process much. Her generous breasts jostle buoyantly in my direction as she briskly turns. I'm at the point of no return.

My senses are overloaded. Her face is getting close to mine. "Stop fighting it," she hisses. I feel a force on the back of my head, as her free hand pulls me in. I barely have time to part my lips before they find hers. Their butter soft texture makes my stomach flip. Her tongue invades my mouth. I taste her saliva and feel her hot breath. She tastes sweet and smells sweeter. She friskily nips my tongue and runs her hand through my ruffled hair. The kiss becomes long and passionate. My eyes cloud as I feel the last pump before I finally lose it, thrusting my hips and triggering an epic climax. I erupt, shooting froth all over the sheets. My mother's eyes widen as the ropes of batter splatter her hand. I impulsively groan into her mouth as she continues to coax my rod empty. Her hand is slathered by the time the last of my jizz dribbles out.

Pulling away from our brief make out session, she baits me with a salacious grin, before hurriedly returning to the computer and my father.

She begins to make an excuse for the absence. "Sorry, there was..."

"Is there someone with you!?" Demands my father. "I could have sworn I just heard something."

"I just... spilled some lotion," my mother responds, agilely evading the truth. I watch in alarm as she brings her delicate, cum soaked hand into my father's visual field.

Winded, I stare incredulously as the scene unfolds.

"I thought... well I don't know," my father confesses. His tone grows less certain. "There was some glitch with the stream, messing with sounds and video. A second ago, it even looked like your necklace was glowing."

My mother curls her red tipped toes. She appears more interested in studying the globs of sperm saturating her fingers than anything my father has to say. Her eyes glaze over and nostrils flare as the masculine odor breaches her receptors. She inhales deeper.

"I'm in love with this new aroma," she declares, "it's just so pungent and full of life."

Watching my mother intoxicate herself with my own cum only nurses my ego. Her face glows with a sincere smile, and her eyelids quiver during the intake of each new breath. It is rare, if not completely foreign, to catch her in a state so vulnerable. The pearlescent cream shimmers.

"I can practically taste it," she murmurs, leaving her mouth parted. An uneasiness skitters through me. She blinks, as though mulling over the possible consequences of licking her well-manicured fingers in this instant.

Before she can act however, a bead of my seed trickles from the end of her pointer finger and falls, bullseye, onto her right nipple. It lingers, only to slip clockwise and hover threateningly on the underside of the pink nub, like a raindrop. My mother promptly responds by palming the entire breast with the rest of my cum. She starts to rub the load across her chest and down her abdomen, letting my seed paint her torso.

The sound of a zipper, soon followed by a set of harsh strained breaths, sheds a light on why my father has taken a vow of silence. My mother runs a hand through her hair, guiding the seductive locks behind her shoulders, and tilts forward. She scoops her tits up and presses them together. "Mmm," she whimpers almost inaudibly.

I look down to see my cock hastening to recuperate. My mother notices it too. She arches her back in my direction, while pinching her nipples. My shaft continues to swell when I see her wedding ring. Typically gleaming in recognition of a commitment to matrimony, its luster is dulled thanks to the sheath of fluids spread over my mother's body. One of her hands descends from fondling her boob flesh and settles between her sculpted thighs.

"Yes...uh.... YES!" My father implores.

My mother scowls at the computer. Then her arms fall to her sides and she sits down in front of the monitor, completely forgoing the intense orgasm she had been building to. I can smell her arousal and imagine her glistening pussy screaming in denial of pleasure.

'Why the hell did she stop?'

"Shit. I just remembered I have an appointment in 30 minutes. This will have to wait," my mother snarls.

"You're kidding, right? I'm so fuckin close... You can't just..." my father is at a loss for words.

She cuts in. "I'm sorry honey, we can talk about this later, but I don't want to be late." She snaps the laptop shut.

"Ugh, I couldn't listen to that man another second," she vents.

I'm about to ask if everything is ok, but the feral expression on her face erases the thought. Sliding close to me, she rests her head against my chest and sighs.

"Contrary to popular belief, most devoted wives don't secretly crave for a young stud with a thick prick and dexterous tongue to come whisk them away," she says, wriggling her body so we nestle into a lovers pose.

"You consider yourself a devoted wife?" I ask cynically.

She makes a tutting sound while staring fondly at the tool that had been causing her to squirm in anguished pleasure only minutes before my father's untimely interruption.

"I was..." she contends, while her hand slithers down my thigh.

"So, you'd never cheated on Dad?" I wonder aloud, not sure I want to know the answer.