Chapter 3140 - PRELUDE TO WICKEDNESS

The annoying jingle on her smartphone alarm jolted her into consciousness, her erotic dream shattered.

It was 12:30 am.

A second before, John had been between her legs, hot, thrusting, grunting and gasping, as she dug her nails deep into his back, aware of an orgasm slowly building deep inside her.

Then suddenly she was enveloped in the black cloak of night, alone in their double bed, while the wind whistled through the eves, rain hammered against the open windows, the air in her bedroom cold and still.

For once she'd had the sense to turn the tv off early and go to bed knowing she'd have to drive in the early hours. Three hours sleep wasn't much, but better than nodding off behind the wheel.

She lay for a few minutes in the dark, orientating herself and mustering thoughts before finally reaching out to silence that damn alarm.

One way or another she had to get out from under her cosy duvet and face a very unsociable start to her day. Bed would now be hours away, if at all?

With a clap of her hands the bedside light came on and she reluctantly swung her long legs out of the covers, planting them deftly into her cold slippers, and shivered.

After a yawn and stretch she eventually stood up and padded naked to the bathroom, pausing only to turn up the dial on the thermostat.

In the depths of the empty house she heard the heating boiler fire up and begin it's laborious task of warming rooms.

Examining herself in the bathroom mirror she broke into a broad smile and reached for the hairbrush.

Shame it's not my own colour, she thought, a couple more weeks then I'll need the roots doing again.

As she smoothed out her long platinum hair, washed her face and frothed up the toothpaste with her electric toothbrush, she was still smiling despite goose pimples on her arms an legs.

Then she remembered, Tom's coming home today!

It was 10 months since she'd seen her wonderful adopted son. But before she could hold him and smell his familiar body scent she had to drive the 25 miles to Manchester Airport where his flight should be landing just after 3 am.

Admittedly he wasn't expecting to be met so early in the morning - she hoped it would be a pleasant surprise for him.

Back in her bedroom, still naked, she pulled on a fresh pair of silk knickers, poured herself into skin-tight jeans and hurriedly slipped on her favourite pair of patent black pixie boots, the ones with 3 inch heels.

Age appropriate and very cute, she thought.

Standing back to critically examine herself in the wardrobe mirror, she paused to admire her new firmer, bigger, breasts. Twisting from side to side she never failed to delight in how they defied gravity, her nipples pointing upwards once again, just as they had done thirty years earlier. And they didn't wobble when she walked any more.

Then she ran her fingers down her newly flattened stomach, before sliding both hands down the soft skin between her legs, seeking out the shape of her new expensive Brazilian wax before finally tracing the trim firmness of her ass.

Isn't liposuction wonderful, she thought, £220,000 worth of the finest plastic surgery money can buy in the UK.

And yet despite this fabulous body, my husband of 30 years isn't interested in sex with me?

Why the hell not?

For an instant her eyes welled up with tears, but she took a deep breath and wiped them away with the heel of a hand.

I won't let him spoil today. So what if he's got another woman, I've got my son to treasure.

She continued admiring the surgeon's work, marvelling at the absence of visible scars.

Amazing how a simple scalpel could pretty much correct all those years of over-eating, lack of exercise and neglect. Goodbye wrinkles and crows feet, hello tight young skin.

Leaning closer to the mirror she traced her little finger slowly along her lips, Then the final touches, just enough collagen into my lips to make them slightly pouty and very kissable.

Finally she bared her teeth, running the tip of the same little finger across the gleaming white rows of TV presenter quality implants, £2000 each tooth, painful but stunning!

Then she took a step back to get a better view of her body.

Look at me, Wow, the walking talking dream results of human body sculpture. This must be how Barbie feels?

Then she scowled, feeling around her neck.

Great pity there wasn't much he could do about my neck, hands and poor feet, crushed and scarred by years of tight fitting shoes and high heels. What was it the surgeon had said, "Unavoidable giveaways to my true age," and he was right, at least for the sharp eyed. But if I dress artfully I can pull off the illusion, divert eyes to look at my tits and not my feet!

And apart from those few inevitable imperfection she felt a wave of satisfaction about herself.

She was fifty-five going on thirty, a fine example of modern 'plastic fantastic' techniques and worth every miserable day of pain, bruising and slow healing.

Mark you he can't take all the credit, all those months of careful eating, hours spent spinning, rowing and pumping weights in the gym has done a lot to help firm and tone my muscles. Hey, I ran that ten kilometre fun run for charity - without stopping!

Nevertheless she still couldn't shake the thought out of her head, Why did John invest so much cash into changing my appearance. Why make me look and feel so good? Why look young and attractive if he didn't want sex with me?

Guilt?

Another woman - in Iceland?

Was that why he was always going there on so called business trips?

Is he curled up with some athletic young thing right now in his upmarket hotel in Rekyavik? Is he screwing the whore right now?

Then feeling the chill of the room, she made her way into Tom's bedroom, opened the top drawer of his clothes cabinet and took out one of his old faded green army 'T' shirts and pulled it on over her head. She kept them there, all clean fresh and neatly ironed for the odd occasions he came home these days.

She smiled in satisfaction as the material stretched tight over her breasts, emphasising their pert shape and ever so prominent nipples.

A wonderful feeling and such a simple pleasure, she thought.

Seeing how good she looked she decided that she wouldn't need a bra for this trip, just the tight 'T' shirt to show off her beautiful tits to the world.

Yet she knew that wouldn't be enough to lift her mood, just looking thirty again couldn't heal the marital wounds of a neglected middle-aged housewife and mom. She needed a stiff cock inside her.

The house was warming as she went downstairs to make a welcome coffee, put on her black padded puffer jacket and soft pashmina scarf.

Another glance at the wall clock told her it was almost time to get on the road.

The house would be warm and welcoming for when they got home.

Scene 2

Six hundred miles away in Stuttgart airport Tom Cronin sat quietly in the airline hospitality lounge enjoying his second beer, relaxing while half watching a 24/7 German news channel .

He felt good about his trip, eager to get home and spend some quality time with family and friends.

He had planned the timing of his three week break carefully to coincide with the absence of his adopted father on yet another business trip.

It was better if they didn't meet - these days they were like oil and water.

They'd hadn't got on for the last decade, and an hour together in the same room was 59 minutes too long for both of them.

Of course Mum had tried to heal the rift, but inevitably that seemed only to make things worse.

Dad had never forgiven Tom for giving up his engineering degree at Edinburgh University.

Tom had been brought up with tales of his grandfather and grandfathers, both notable Scottish engineers. Dad once regaled Tom with a family story of one of them working for Brunel on the huge Great Eastern steamship. Tom had quipped that he probably made the sandwiches and cups of tea for the real workers. To which his Dad had exploded in anger and almost struck his son in blind rage.

That was just one more incident that drove the wedge even deeper between the two.

Ten years had passed since the day he had arrived home during his second year at university to tell his parents he had left and applied to become an army officer. Since then he and his stepfather had barely exchanged more than a dozen words, which was a shame because Dad had

given him a life he might never have had after his birth parents had both been tragically killed. He had doted on Tom, loved him as his own flesh and blood. In hindsight he couldn't have wished for a better Dad and deep down he felt a terrible remorse at the way he had replayed this man's wonderful generosity.

He knew that he should make the first move to heal the rift, yet somehow he couldn't.

Captain Tom Cronin had resigned his commission after serving only 7 years in the army, tempted by an offer from a friend to take on a lucrative directorship with a thriving international bodyguard agency.

Since then he had spent three years nurturing the Stuttgart office and building up a thriving business from humble beginnings. This was the first opportunity for almost a year to return to England for well earned rest and recuperation.

His only lingering regret was leaving the local brothels behind. Since a casual visit on a stag weekend three years previously he'd become a regular customer, gradually becoming addicted to skilled casual sex with professional hookers.

On the rare occasions he found himself with a free weekend he spent it visiting new brothels within easy driving distance of his penthouse apartment.

Naturally he'd dated women from the office and the occasional pretty female customer. But non of these women he dated could give him the frisson he got from entering a brothel and choosing which of the beauties to bed.

He was especially well known at one local brothel where many of the girls, accustomed to his regular visits, liked and trusted the handsome young Englishman. He always respected them as women and never failed to tip generously.

Tom knew many of the girls well enough to know which would best perform the particular sex act he desired at the time.

His preferred brothel lay on the outskirts of Stuttgart in a quiet part of town. There worked his most treasured working girl, a tall leggy blonde, lithe and athletic with an amazing firm body and breasts. Her working name was Silki and Tom sometimes reserved whole weekends with her. He never asked her real name; she never told him, nevertheless she had reluctantly given him her cellphone number.

It transpired that Silki was not unlike Tom in attitude, business acumen and aspiration. From time to time he had hired her to accompany him to important business dinners, the sort of high powered function where beautiful women dinner partners were obligatory.

She always rose to the occasion, dressing as if for the Oscars, with every man around the table envying Tom, drooling over Silki and fantasising about getting into her knickers.

Silki never did freebies!

Even when he asked her to pose in sexy lingerie for him to take photos of her she charged the same hourly rate.

But to say their relationship was purely a business transaction would be to mislead.

From time to time they met up as friends for a chat and coffee, they liked each other and recognised kindred spirits. Both were striving for early retirement as millionaires, both prepared to work all hours to maintain their income streams, and both quite ruthless. Perhaps in another life they would have made formidable partners.

However Tom had long since decided that marriage or long-term commitment were not for him. He would live his life a dedicated career man and bachelor.

As a bonus he was well aware that his boyish good looks could get him laid almost anywhere there were attractive women.

So he was careful, avoided meaningful relationships like the plague, using prostitutes to slake his considerable sexual appetite.

All in all, life was too good to screw it all up with a wife, kids, Labrador dog, Volvo estate car, and mortgage to the grave.

Scene 3

The motorway was thankfully quiet so early in the day.

Rain hammered into the windscreen and she had to switch the wipers onto maximum to see the carriageway ahead.

In the warm cabin of the SUV she was becoming uncomfortably warm, so unzipped the puffer jacket, unfastened her seatbelt, before carefully slipping the jacket off each shoulder and throwing it casually onto the passenger seat.

Then she unwound the pashmina scarf and it joined the jacket beside her.

With the seatbelt secured she turned on the radio, tuned it to the BBC Radio 2 channel and tried to catchup on a heated conversation the presenter was enjoying with an irate phone-in listener.

She was wide awake now and her thoughts drifted to how she would meet Tom, the drive home together and the plans she had in mind for him.

Without being aware of what she was doing she released the steering wheel with one hand, sliding it up underneath the thin 'T' shirt and cupping one of her new breasts. As the radio argument continued she stretched out her long fingers with perfectly manicured nails and gently began circling an areole and erect nipple.

It felt good.

Eventually she moved her hand onto her other breast and massaged until both nipples were standing erect. Taking a quick glance down she felt so proud of her new tits but her thoughts were once again clouded by thoughts of John, her husband.

Why didn't he want to hump me?

She pictured him with some faceless young thing riding hard on his big prick in some unknown hotel hundreds of miles away, somewhere on that strange ice-bound island in the North Atlantic.

Then her thoughts turned to Tom's reaction to the massive cosmetic surgery she had undergone during the previous ten months. She hadn't told him about her gradual transformation during his regular calls to her.

What would he think of his cuddly mom now, oozing sex appeal and looking more his own age?

Would he react badly, reject her?

No of course not, they had always been very close and she had encouraged him to talk openly to her about anything and everything.

Had she made an error of judgment by coming out without a bra? Too late now!

On his last visit he had surprised her when he told her about his obsession with brothels and young hookers. It had been one of those lovely evenings, Tom had taken her out for dinner at a smart restaurant and they had arrived home well after midnight.

He was totally relaxed in her company as he explained all about Silki and his other favourites. In her turn she had asked how much each visit cost, what it was like inside a brothel and how the girls dressed?

Tom had answered unabashed, relaxed and happy to regale his trusted mother with his most intimate secrets.

Enjoying their mutual revelations they had drunk two more bottles of wine before eventually falling comatose together, arm in arm on the sofa, kept warm by the heat of their bodies and covered only by his suit jacket.

At one point she had made a slip of the tongue by mentioning how alike she thought they were, both loving sex. He hadn't reacted so she thought him too drunk to remember it anyway.

Ahead through the driving rain she spotted the one mile warning sign for the airport turn, slid her hand away from her breasts, switched off the radio and took a proper hold of the steering wheel.

It was 2:30 am and she was going to be early for his flight.

She began to tingle with anticipation at their impending reunion.

Scene 4

Meanwhile 23,000 feet above France it was time for the cabin crew to begin the monotonous task of wheeling the drinks and perfumes trolleys between the rows of slumbering passengers, pausing beside each recumbent figure and speaking softly to see if they were awake.

Usually it would be a frantic time getting everything done on a short-haul flight that lasted for only one hour and fifty minutes.

But this was thee sleepy time express with only the hardest drinkers staying awake for a top-up of gin and tonic.

As ever the two female cabin crew looked sleek and ultra smart in their electric blue livery with matching silk neck scarves. Sometimes they questioned why they made so much effort with their hair and makeup, only for it to go unnoticed by tired, fat- bellied businessmen with stubble beards, stale breath and distinct body odour.

But that was their job, and besides it had it's rewards. Whenever they had a stay over at some exotic destination with a couple of young horny pilots, they were assured they looked desirable and that usually promised great all-night sex.

The taller of the two, a pert redhead with great legs and inviting wiggle of her butt, headed for the business class part of the cabin.

She had made eye contact with Tom as they did the usual meet and greet when the passengers boarded.

As she drew the dividing curtain aside her eyes immediately settled on the top of his head. He was a handsome thirty-something with a short neat beard and glossy black curly hair, wearing an expensive business suit with a white open-necked shirt.

She had to look twice to check if he was one of those tv male models that advertised expensive French perfumes, hair products or perfectly tailored suits.

He seemed not to have noticed her, but she would ensure that he did. He was reason enough to justify the effort she had put into her appearance.

In reality he was wide awake and busy typing something into an iPad.

But Tom was far from distracted. He became aware of the stewardess immediately she drew the curtain and scanned her body from head to toe. 'Very fuckable', he thought to himself.

But he continued typing on his iPad all the time aware of her approach.

Her name was Trudy, a product of mixed Dutch and English parentage, well educated, fluent in three languages and looking for a handsome fuck-buddy for the duration of the stay-over in Manchester.

Non of the passengers occupying the seats before Tom wanted anything from the trolley, so she eased it forward until she drew alongside him.

He kept up the pretence of concentration until he breathed in her expensive perfume as she leaned forward to speak.

"Can I get you anything to drink sir, or something from the duty free trolley, perfume perhaps, or anything else from our in-flight brochure?" she said in a soft lilting dutch accent.

As she spoke she leaned even further forward to reach the in-flight magazine from the net pocket in the rear of the chair in front. Her cheek almost brushed Tom's cheek and he felt the thrilling soft press of her breast against his shoulder.

As she straightened up and began opening the in-flight magazine to the perfumes page, he turned to look up at her very attractive face. Her hair and makeup were almost perfect apart from her mascara which he thought looked hurriedly applied. Nevertheless, he could imagine taking the clips from her russet hair and let it cascade down over naked shoulders then cup those breasts as she urgently unfastened his trousers and began feeling for his hard prick.

Although she wasn't blonde, he knew he could make an exception to his strict rules and fuck this one.

Turning to look up at her he gave a broad smile, emphasising his perfect white teeth while breathing out softly towards her face for her to take in the fresh mint toothpaste and the subtle aftershave he had applied in the washroom just before boarding.

It was an old trick but it worked more often than it failed.

Trudy was immediately captivated with this strikingly handsome man. He looked and smelled beautifully masculine and imagined pressing her lips onto his as he undid her bra, letting it slip to the floor then roughly cup her breasts, thumbs stimulating her nipples.

She had found a possible candidate for her hotel fuck-buddy.

Still smiling and keeping eye contact with her, Tom took the brochure from her, but without looking at it, "I'd like a large Chanel No 5 perfume and a large Napoleon Brandy please..."

"A gift for your wife? she asked casually.

"Wife! God no. I'm single and plan to stay that way. No, they're a gift for my mother, a sort of family ritual I started whenever I came home on leave from the army".

She was bending forward now, reaching inside the trolley for the brandy while ensuring he had a good view of her figure, tight ass and shapely legs.

The electric blue skirt of her uniform stretched tight and she could feel his eyes inspecting her, confident her fit body could ensnare this prize guy.

Straightening up to put his purchases into a white airline carrier bag she had only a few moments to ask the essential questions.

"Do you live in Manchester?"

Tom smiled inwardly knowing the direction their conversation was headed.

"I live and work in Stuttgart, I'm over for three weeks vacation visiting my family who live not far from the airport." Which was a lie but an essential one if he was going to get into her knickers.

Why not? He wasn't expected home until later in the day, more than enough time for a few hours in her hotel bed. His already pleasant journey was looking even more promising than he had imagined.

Scene 5

As she parked the SUV in the short term car park she checked the time on the dashboard clock before switching off the engine.

She was early, it was only 02:46am.

Before reaching across for her pashmina scarf and puffer jacket she took the mandatory look at her face in the rear view mirror.

Not bad, she thought.

The surgery on her sagging lids and black bags underneath had made them disappear as if by magic. Looking back at her were the sparkling eyes of a sexually active thirty something.

Still, they would look even better with a little eye shadow and mascara.

And that hair, bottle platinum blonde of course, though it shone like burnished metal in the reflected light of the low car park. She would pin it up into a loose up-do, let the bangs hang loose over her ears - give herself an even younger look.

Those lips too would brighten her face with a touch of lippy, and perhaps a lick of gloss?

She had a lot to explain to Tom when he realised how different she looked from the last time he had seen him. Ten months ago she had been an overweight, mousy haired, middle-aged mum with crows feet around her eyes and a spreading ass that was a constant embarrassment to her.

Would he even recognise her?

Perhaps it had been a mistake to keep all the misery of the many small operations from him?

He phoned her several times each week, often she had been swathed in bandages and bruises, yet she had told him nothing of her gradual transformation.

Today would be her great reveal, from caterpillar to beautiful butterfly. She would have liked John to be with her, to meet their adopted son arm in arm, meeting up again to be the perfect family.

Yet here she was alone.

It was still incomprehensible to her why John had suggested all that cosmetic work, and given her half his annual company bonus to pay for it all, £120,000!

Unbelievable with hindsight.

He had been caring and supportive throughout, but it seemed all the love he had for her had somehow dried up, spent. They had not made love once in those intervening ten months.

Something, some event unspoken and unshared had driven a wedge between them.

They still shared the same bed, shared meals, she washed his clothes, they spoke civilly to each other and shared the occasional kiss, but nothing more.

He no longer sneaked up behind her, grabbing her breasts and pushing his huge prick between the cheeks of her ass, and waited till it got hard, then she would wriggle with pleasure, turn around to him and they would kiss passionately. Both trembling with excitement they would rush hand in hand to the bedroom, feverishly undressing each other before he fucked her hard, her legs wrapped tight around his waist before groaning aloud as he came hard, ropes of cum pulsing deep into her. Then she would come too.

Tears welled up into her eyes again and she felt like weeping. But that would never do. Tom didn't need to know of her personal emptiness, her yearning to be loved.

Grabbing her shoulder bag she stepped out of the car, the neat stiletto heels clicking on the grubby concrete floor.

After winding on her scarf and zipping up her puffer jacket she opened the rear passenger door and took out her cardboard passenger sign to hold up when Tom came out of customs.

Another family tradition.

Then she clicked the key fob, heard the satisfying clunk of the doors locking and made her way out of the car park, pausing briefly to collect her parking ticket from the imposing blue dispensing machine beside the automatic doors.

Through the windows she could see it was still raining hard and realised she would have to run the gauntlet across the road to reach the arrivals terminal.

Covering her hair with the cardboard sign she made the dash across the road, through the circular rotating door and stood, dripping wet in the large, mostly deserted atrium.

She knew her way around this space and without thinking walked across to the nearest flight arrivals monitor to check Tom's flight progress.

It was on time, due to touchdown at 3am precisely. Experience had taught her that passengers took around 20 minutes to leave the aircraft, wait for and collect their baggage before walking through customs into the arrivals hall.

So she had plenty of time to get a herself a coffee from one of the vending machines, go to the ladies facilities for a pee, put up her hair and put on her face.

A little after 3:15 am she strode out of the women's facilities feeling and looking a million dollars.

She'd done a good job of refreshing her hair and makeup. She knew how good she looked when two young men, she supposed recently arrived on another flight, gave her appraising looks, staring at her in the hope she would look back at them. After all those years she could once more turn men's heads, and it felt good, so good that she slid down the zip of her puffer jacket to reveal the tight 'T' shirt and stunning curves of her new tits.

What was it Dolly Parton had said, 'If you've got it, flaunt it'. She smiled to herself at the thought of both those young men getting erections just thinking about her.

As she walked along the atrium she became conscious of the sexy clicking of her heels on the polished floor and recalled reading that men responded to high heels and long slender legs. She began to feel sexy and desirable for the first time in months, in years!

Perhaps John had been right and known what he was doing when he gave her a second chance of happiness when he could no longer fulfil his marital duties.

Could she attract him back or did she need to learn the modern methods of courtship and return to a fulfilling sexual relationship?

But those thoughts soon emptied from her mind as she joined the dozen or so other people waiting expectantly opposite the arrivals gate.

Scene 6

Tom spotted his luggage as the two dark blue samsonite cases dropped one after another onto the slow moving carousel.

Glancing around to see if the cabin crew had yet left the aircraft he made his way to the mid point of the circular carousel and waited until his luggage reached him before swinging them both easily onto his trolley.

After quickly showing his EU pass he headed for the green lane of UK customs. As usual there were no uniformed officials there so he made his way directly to the exit gate where he planned to intercept Trudy and her friend as they made their glamorous way out of the airport. They would walk side by side, in step, both wearing full airline livery, heels clicking rhythmically, trying to ignore the appreciative looks of the waiting people. Their final display of peacock feathers and ass wiggling mating attraction for this trip at least.

Tom was electric with anticipation at the thought of spending a few hours in bed with the lovely Trudy, and who knew, perhaps her raven haired companion too, what was her name again, Analisa?

Why not both of them, he'd done it with two girls in brothels a few times and was more than confident of his staying power and ability to satisfy them both if it came to that.

He knew he was on a promise when Trudy had slipped him her card as they did the required meet and farewell for the red-eyed passengers queuing to leave the aircraft.

Waiting until he was in the baggage collection area he casually examined the card and read what she had hastily written on the reverse in biro.

Her airline card gave her name as Trudy Van Donk, senior stewardess, a company email address and an office where she could be contacted through the airline.

On the back she had written the name of the hotel in Manchester where they were heading for and, essentially, her personal email address and number of her cellphone.

Life felt good for Tom Cronin. Even if he missed Trudy leaving the airport, he knew where to meet up with her. And for once he wouldn't have to pay for the fuck.

Not expecting to be met at such a miserable time in the morning he didn't give the waiting group a second glance as he stepped through the arrivals gate enroute to the taxi rank.

He hadn't walked much further than 50 meters when he heard his name being called - at least he thought he did. He couldn't be sure. Besides it wouldn't be Trudy, he hadn't given her his name. Nor could it be Mum, she would have texted or emailed.

So he continued heading across the almost empty concourse, the rain still hammering on the glass roof above. If he moved quickly there might be a couple of taxis left at the rank, quite possible as there were no more flights arriving or departing until 6am.

Somewhere behind him he heard the click of stiletto heels moving quickly in the same direction as him, and once again heard his name called.

"Tom, will you slow down, I can't keep up you in these heels!"

He recognised the voice, it was Mum, why on earth didn't she tell him she would pick him up?

Stopping the trolley and applying the lever brakes he turned expecting to see his chubby Mum puffing and panting towards him.

Except it wasn't Mum, nor was it Trudy in her blue livery, hat and matching scarf.

It was Silki!

What in God's name was she doing in Manchester?

As his pursuer got closer he realised it wasn't his favourite German whore. Yet she had the same long shapely legs, platinum blonde hair in his favourite loose up-do, the same perfect makeup and that glorious pouty mouth he loved so much.

Tom felt a mixture of confusion, disorientation and plain stupidity.

Then she caught up with him, giving him a beaming smile and holding up a cardboard sign that read, 'Mr Napoleon Chanel', his and Mum's timeless joke about the duty free gifts he never failed to bring her on his visits.

He must have looked as confused as he felt.

"Tom, don't you recognise me? It's me, Mum?"

Tom did a double take, he sort of did recognise her and he didn't. This vivacious creature looked more at home on the cover of a fashion magazine than washing up in the kitchen at home.

"Mum?" He said in a querulous voice, "Mum, is that really you?"

"Of course it's me!" The woman said, her heels clicking sexily as she closed to within a couple of paces of him. "Yes it's me, at least it's the bits left behind by the cosmetic surgeon."

With that she dropped the cardboard sign, opened her puffer jacket and assumed one of those glamour poses, one hand on hip, weight on the other leg and one arm in the air like a dancer.

"Ta-Da" she said, letting his eyes take in her new tits, protruding nipples, waspish waist and those long slender legs. "This is the new me, who did you think it was?"

"Just for the moment I thought you were Silki," he said, realizing instantly it had been completely the wrong thing to say.

"Silki! You mean that whore you rave on about, the one in the brothel in Stuttgart?"

"Sorry Mum, but you did ask!"

Then without hesitation he stepped forward, sliding his arms around her slim waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.

"You look amazing Mum, at least twenty years younger and really hot!"

A thrill ran through her body at his words, hot and twenty years younger. He had even mistaken her for his prize whore, and she knew he thought Silki the most beautiful woman he knew.

His strong arms were around her now, holding her tight, her breasts pressed close to his broad chest.

He was looking at her face, his eyes studying her new younger, bright eyes. He seemed to hesitate as he considered her pouty mouth, fresh and inviting with pink lipstick and lip gloss.

Then he took her breath away as he leaned his head forward and kissed her passionately on her lips.

She felt the unfamiliar roughness of his beard against her skin and tasted the fresh mint of his breath.

It was a strangely erotic moment.

After a few seconds she sensed the beginnings of his erection and instinctively pressed herself tighter against him. Then, as they were both lost in the most sexy kiss she could remember, impulsively raised her long legs, wrapping them tight as a limpet around his hips, almost making him stumble forward.

He continued spinning around with her clinging on to him like a limpet.

Totally inappropriate, totally unexpected and totally wonderful.

His kiss seemed never to end and she half wanted his tongue to slip between her lips and begin exploring her eager mouth.

But this was all wrong, sons don't get erections kissing their Mums.

Sons don't kiss their mums passionately on the lips.

Somehow they both had to break the embrace, she would have to unwrap her legs from his waist and he would release his grip on her, then they would have to confront what they'd done.

Then as they clung on to each other they became aware of the clicking of heels behind them, two heels walking in step and the sounds of luggage on wheels being pulled behind them.

Tom was the first to realise who the clicking heels belonged to, and hastily withdrew his lips from hers. As he turned his head the click of the heels paused close by.

It was Trudy and Analisa, looking incredible in their airline uniforms, pert little hats and high heels.

As he met eyes with Trudy he felt his mum unwrap her legs from his waist and he lowered her feet to the floor.

What a fuck up! he thought.

Now he looked slightly foolish, lipstick around his mouth and an unmistakeable hard-on trying to break out of his trousers.

He didn't know what to say. But it was Trudy who broke the moment.

"So this is your mum?" she said, a sarcastic edge now on her soft Dutch accent, "Yeah right!"

And with that, she and Analise stepped off together, heels once more clicking in unison, neat butts swaying in synchrony. Neither bothered to look back. He was already history.

Both Tom and his mum watched the two beauties retreat across the concourse until they eventually disappeared from sight through the distant revolving doors.

Mum began giggling first which helped break an otherwise difficult and embarrassing moment.

Then she reached into a pocket of her puffer jacket and took out a clean folded handkerchief. She held it to her lips, gently spit on it and proceeded to hold Tom's head behind his neck and wipe off the lipstick from around his mouth.

Tom stood still, like an obedient child until she was satisfied with her work, then she reached up and gave him a mother's kiss on his cheek.

Pointing to the far exit which had just swallowed up Tom's dreams of a sexy twosome in a warm hotel bedroom she said, "You and them?...Have I just messed up your arrangements for the night?"

" It doesn't matter Mum, I'd rather be at home with you," he said, trying for it not to sound like a lie.

"And I'm the tooth fairy!" she said, "Which of you guys wouldn't want to spent the night in bed with those stunning girls, and it's all my fault for not letting you know I would be meeting you off the flight."

It looked like Tom was going to blurt out something that he might regret. So after quickly retrieving the cardboard sign from the floor, she slid her arms through his.

"Is that gift for me?" she said, nodding toward the white airline carrier bag on the trolley.

"You know damn well it is Mum, I mean, who else would it be for?"

And when she looked up at him with a knowing grin and said, "Oh I could think of a couple of people!" they both roared with laughter.

Scene 7

A fly on the windscreen of the SUV would have had a tough time figuring out what was going on between them.

Tom drove, apparently in deep concentration, adjusting to the atrocious weather conditions and to driving on the left side of the road again. He hadn't turned on the radio, leaving the only sounds in the cabin of rain battering against the windscreen, the wipers struggling to clear enough water away to see the road ahead and the whir of the heater on it's maximum setting.

When they had arrived at the vehicle she had his jacket held over her hair, he was soaked in his white shirt which clung to his body, emphasising his taught muscular frame and sculptured six pack.

She was curled up on her seat next to him, knees drawn up beneath her puffer jacket, head on one side studying her son intently.

His face was serious and his body language spoke volumes of the dissonance that had sent his thoughts fizzing.

She continued watching her son closely, trying to read his thoughts. After their kiss he had seemed to adjust to his old self, they had chatted about this and that trivia until they reached the revolving door to the road they had to cross to reach the carpark.

Without hesitation he had taken off his jacket and given it to her to protect her, 'beautiful hair'.

After the dash through the rain he had been soaked to the skin but laughed off any suggestions of putting on her puffer jacket. He behaved just as they had educated him as a young man, that men must protect their women.

She watched as the car heater began to slowly dry out his shirt and trousers, steam beginning to rise from his body, causing condensation on the windows.

He had turned out to be almost everything proud parents could wish from a son.

Handsome, intelligent, physically robust, successful and charming, he was almost everything she could want him to be. Almost.

But there was a side of him she didn't, and probably would never understand. It wasn't his obsession with women so much, after all he was a beautiful man and a natural magnet for women.

It was his predilection for prostitutes and those German brothels.

Why on earth would a man given all the glittering prizes that birth and family could bestow on him want to spend all his quality time in the company of whores?

What could they give him that a stable relationship with a local girl couldn't?

Not that he had tried to hide it from her. Indeed he seemed more relaxed than ever after offloading everything she asked about the girl 'Silky', and the brothel where he visited her.

She had been surprised at his candour, and at her own relaxed demeanour as she prompted and probed him for more intimate information. More than that, she had been strangely fascinated with that darker side of his life, and had felt a thrill inside as he talked about making love to Silki so often.Not that he ever spoke crudely. Their drunken conversation ten months previously had not involved swearing or euphemisms. He had been forthright, open and explicit, but never course.

Her mind drifted back to his reaction to seeing her in the arrivals lounge. He had looked genuinely confused and she had little doubt he had mistaken her for his darling whore.

More then that, when he had pulled her into his chest and kissed her with passion, she felt sure he was kissing Silki, not her.

The erection seemed to reinforce her thoughts. For those brief moments of meeting she had become Silki, and had spontaneously acted like his girlfriend by wrapping her legs around him and been rewarded by a huge throbbing erection.

She supposed she should have reacted differently, drawn away from him in protest, yet she had enjoyed the experience, recalling how it felt to be in the embrace of a man who wanted her.

He must have become aware of her studying his face because he turned towards her, gave her a flashing smile and held out one hand for her to hold.

Without thinking she withdrew an arm from beneath her jacket, and reaching out took his hand.

They drove the next couple of miles like that. He didn't speak but she felt his pain and an apology flowing between them like an electric current.

Eventually he let go of her hand as he had to indicate and negotiate the turn off the M56 Motorway and head towards their home in rural Cheshire.

Tom's head was a maelstrom of thoughts. On one hand his planned liaison with senior stewardess Trudy Van Donk had evaporated in a puff of smoke when she had seen him in a deeply sexual embrace with... with Silki... with his mom!

How did that happen?

As he looked across at his adopted mother he felt that confusion again, the same frisson he had felt when mistaking her for Silki.

Even now it was difficult to take in the changes that ten months had made to his mother. It was her, yet it was also Silki. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable holding on to his hand.

A blonde amazon.

Every time he looked at her he felt like reaching across and feeling those amazing tits and erect. nipples. She had changed so much. A magical transformation from cuddly mum to beautiful woman. And she looked no older than him. Unbelievable.

As he glanced at her again all he could feel was the desire to fuck her. Then the dissonance kicked in again, fuck his adopted mom! Absurd.

Scene 8

It was just after 5am when she closed the front door behind them and turned the lock. The rain had stopped a couple of miles back but Tom was still shivering. Glad she had decided to keep the central heating turned up she urged him to get upstairs, take his wet clothes off and warm himself up thoroughly under the wet room shower.

He didn't need to be told twice, took the stairs two at a time and dived into his old room.

She watched him disappear from view before removing her damp jacket and scarf and walk into the kitchen to put the kettle on for hot drinks for them both.

It was comforting to hear him padding around in the rooms above, then she heard the sound of the power shower and his voice trying to sing some popular German song.

But no matter what she did to occupy her mind, her thoughts kept returning to that kiss, her binding him tightly with her legs and the electric feeling as he became hard and tried to push it into her through her tight jeans. It had felt huge, bigger than John's. She reflected that a couple of hours earlier John's was the first and only adult penis she had ever seen and felt. Now she realised that it probably was not as huge as she had believed.

Feeling another impulsive moment of madness she had an uncontrollable urge to see Tom's penis!

'Don't be stupid,' she told herself, but her hands were trembling with excitement as she contrived to make him a coffee and take it up to his bedroom. If she timed it just right she might just, 'accidentally' intercept him walking back to his bedroom naked.

Part of her screamed not to be so stupid but the other part trembled with anticipation and thrilling feelings of wickedness. And perhaps if she retouched her hair and makeup... and tucked her 'T' shirt tightly into her jeans, she might even cause him another hard on.

But that was dumb, she realised that she could watch him just the same from her own bedroom if she left her door open. Then more exciting ideas grew in her burgeoning imagination.

Tom was still singing to himself as she made her way upstairs carrying two mugs of hot coffee and a large plate of freshly buttered toast.

As she passed the bathroom she called out to him, "Tom love, I've made us coffee and toast, shall I put it in your bedroom?"

"That'll be great Mum," he called back, "I'm almost finished here."

She placed the coffee and plate of toast beside his bed then instinctively stopped to pick up his discarded wet shirt, trousers, shorts and socks, just as she had done so often when he still lived at home.

This time it felt different. Her hands were still uncontrollably trembling.

Then almost as a relief, she drew his shorts to her nose and breathed in the faint odour of his prick, instantly recognising the familiar smell of pre-cum, just like she had so often detected on her husbands underclothes.

She wondered if the pre-cum had seeped out onto his clothes when he thought of jumping into bed with those two stunning airline stewardesses, or when he had pushed it into her as they embraced?

The sound of the shower stopped suddenly and she hurried across the landing into her own room.

Checking she could still be seen from the wet room door she threw his clothes into a corner and began undressing.

She imagined Tom towelling himself dry and spraying his underarms with the new can of deodorant she had bought for him just yesterday.

When she was stripped down to only her silk panties she paused, turned to face towards her dressing table mirror and waited. Her heart was pounding, hands trembling.

A minute or so later she heard the wet room door catch slide across, the door open and the click of the light switch.

She waited a heartbeat before slowly sliding down her silken panties, first as far as her ankles then lifted one foot to step out, then the other.

Carefully she glanced into the mirror. There he stood looking like a perfect Greek sculpture, his muscles catching the lights from the landing and illuminating his beautiful prick.

She started for a moment as she realised that he had been circumcised, revealing the pink head of the longest and thickest prick she could have imagined! Her head was spinning and she felt overwhelmed with a heady mix of guilt and desire.

Tom felt fresh and warm after his shower, his body temperature was restored and all tiredness washed away. He was looking forward to his hot drink and a few rounds of his Mum's thickly buttered toast.

Noticing the can of his favourite body deodorant he gave himself a couple of short bursts under his arms, one down each leg before twisting around and spraying his back. Then feeling really good, he opened the wet room door, clicked off the light and stepped out naked onto the landing.

After living alone in his German penthouse for the past three years he had got into the habit of walking about the place naked, it felt natural.

He couldn't have missed seeing her if he'd tried. The landing lights were on but the strongest light source came from his mother's open bedroom door.

And there she was, standing silhouetted in front of her dressing table, or rather bent forwards intent on stepping out of her knickers. She was still wearing those stiletto heeled pixie boots - nothing else.

The sight of her in such an erotic pose stopped him in his tracks. As if instantly hypnotised he just stood there taking in as much of the scene as any man would.

She looked sensational. Still seemingly unaware of his presence she stepped out of her panties, tossed them into one corner and carefully drew herself up to her full height.

The light from her bedside lamp cast a golden halo around her silhouette, as if a master artist had carefully drawn a thin outline of burnished gold around her.

With her hair still pinned up in an up-do, her breasts and nipples sticking out prominently and that perfect curve to her lower back and butt, she looked so much like Silki in her working room at the brothel.

As he watched she seem to be examining her figure in her mirror, running her hand across and under her tits, slightly turning and twisting from side to side. Then she turned slightly and the golden light caught the delicate outline of her legs and he saw a delicious gap at the top of her legs, the golden gate into the promised land.

He loved to see that gap and the outline of pubic hair.

Unable to control his feelings he felt the inevitable reaction of his prick, thickening around the base, filling with coursing blood to slowly raise it into a proud hard on.

Then sense kicked in, sanity resumed and, fearful of being found acting like some perverted voyeur, he stepped sideways away from her bedroom door and padded silently into his own room. As his door clicked shut he breathed a deep sigh of relief that she hadn't had to witness him sexually aroused by her presence.

His heart was pounding with excitement as he reached down to feel his rock-hard prick, throbbing and eager for action.

Slumped back against his cold bedroom door, What the fuck has got into me, am I going off my head? he thought.

What if she'd seen him, drooling with lust at the sight of his adopted mother. What would she have thought of him, perverted, lewd, sick?

It might have driven a wedge between them, separating them just as he had done with his father.

He was still leaning against the door, when he heard a gentle tap and his Mum's soft voice, "I'm going back downstairs for a drink Tom, I won't be able to sleep for a while after that journey. Come on down for a chat if you're not too tired?"

Glancing down at his slowly retracting erection he pushed back against the door in case she might unwittingly try to open it.

"Okay Mum," he called back, "I'll just get changed into something warm and I'll come down to join you. And thanks again for the coffee and toast!"

He heard her soft footsteps retreating downstairs as she called back, "Your welcome love, it's so good to have you home again."

Reaching the foot of the stairs she paused to look back at his door. She had slipped into those black silk pyjamas that John had encouraged her to buy, then seemed to ignore.

The house had warmed through and she felt warm and comfortable.

From where she stood she could make out the reflected light escaping through the gap around his door and she pictured him trying to dress with that huge erection. Then smiling, she felt a thrill pass through her body from head to toe, followed by a warm feeling of satisfaction that it was her new body that had caused that erection.

It was at that moment, as she stood gazing upwards, that she felt the first stirrings of something dark and dangerous creeping into the deep recesses of her mind, something both thrilling and dangerous. She shivered as she realised the nature of that feeling, it was wickedness.

A slithering, malicious corruption of her soul now unleashed upon her mind, it began it's insidious and inexorable advance into every sinew and fibre of her being.

Wicked thoughts surfaced one by one, into her consciousness, thoughts that began polluting and infecting her moral code, that sense of right and wrong that had guided her through life so far.

She trembled at the stirrings of fresh carnal desire, emotions that had never crossed her mind.

And for the first time she heard a small voice, deep inside her, urging dark sexual desires.

It was as if she had, in that moment, become another person, a wicked corrupt, scheming slut.

Breaking her upwards stare, she blinked, the first simple blink of her new dark life. Instinctively she again cupped both breasts, gently circled both areoles and caressed both deliciously sensitive nipples.

Then turning to move into the lounge she became aware of a warm glowing feeling between her legs, it was moist with desire.

Scene 9

She felt on fire as she tried to decide what to do next, how to keep Tom's embers glowing?

How could she use her new sexuality, how far dare she push him?

Why am I doing this? she pondered.

Then she realised why, it was because now she could!

Why her Tom? Because he was a man, because he was there!

Images flashed through her mind, dark scenes, scenes of her and her son, wicked scenes of her riding his hard prick, her on her knees in front of him, his trousers and pants around his ankles, her sucking his hard prick!

It was all dark fantasies, filth that somehow surfaced from the deep pool of wickedness that everyone has laying dormant in the lizard part of their brains.

Right then the voice was reassuring her, gently persuading, it would be alright.

He's not your birth son, You're unable to bear children, his seed would just seep out of you. No harm. Go on, it'll be alright. No need for doubt, he might even love you more for giving your body to him. Think of his huge prick sliding into you. No harm done, go on.

And so it continued like the smooth tongued serpent whispering to Eve to pick the apple from the forbidden tree. Go on...

Finally she succumbed, finally persuaded.

Should I change into something more revealing?

What should I be doing when he joins me in the lounge.

Which part of my body should I use to entrap him?

He seemed to like my tits. Yes that was it, cleavage and nipples, at least to start with.

Moving across to the wall mirror she undid the top two buttons of her pyjama top. She bent forwards, tried to pull open the collars even stretched the material to see how it showed off her cleavage.

Non of it worked.

The silk pyjamas were the worst thing she could have worn. 'Shit!"

In the bedroom above she heard Tom moving around. He would be walking down stairs very soon.

Damn! This isn't how I want him to see me!

Then with a flash of inspiration she hurried out of the lounge, down the carpeted corridors, through the kitchen and into the utility room. Opening a wall cupboard she took down a pile of freshly washed and pressed clothes.

As she feverishly searched through her clothes and underwear she heard him switch off his bedroom light and walk across the landing, heading for the stairs.

Then she found something that would do, it was one of her white running 'T' shirts that had shrunk after she put it on a hot wash.

Quickly shrugging off her pyjamas top she squeezed herself into the clinging 'T' shirt, struggling to pull it down over her hard tits. Looking down to admire her nipples which now stood out like neat wooden pegs, she again felt the delicious thrill of her new found wickedness.

My prelude to wickedness she thought.

I must look like a dirty, slutty, whore in this, and for a moment almost took it off, even though that was precisely the effect the voice in her lizard brain was urging her to achieve.

He was heading down the stairs now, and she heard him call out to her, "Hey Mum, where are you?"

"I won't be a minute love," she called back, "We're in the main lounge, turn on the fire and pour us a couple of glasses of wine will you?"

"Sure Mum," he called back and she heard him walk into the lounge, click on the fire and begin humming that same German tune to himself.

Her heart was thudding with excitement as she pulled out a pair of black body-hugging leggings. It took only a moment to drop her pyjama bottoms, but instead of looking for panties to wear under the leggings, she hesitated, ran a hand between her legs and felt the elicit thrill of her moist sex, warm and ready to receive a hard prick.

The devil was in her as she pulled on the tight leggings, and smoothed out any creases that might spoil the effect.

"I'm coming Tom!" she called, "You poured me a big glass full yet?"

The irony of her words struck her. No I'm not coming yet, but I soon will be!

The lizard part of her brain sent another shiver of sexual anticipation through her body as she walked toward the lounge door.

This wasn't how I would have wanted to look had I more time, but it will have to do.

No bra and a translucent cotton material worn with skin tight leggings that clearly show I'm not wearing panties should be enough to tempt him after a few glasses of wine?

As she took the last few steps towards the lounge she realised that she had little or no experience of sexual seduction. Since her marriage, sex had come to her, regularly, hard, passionate and wonderfully enjoyable.

But that was then, and this was now.

If she hoped ever to feel the thrill and physical touch of erotic sex again she had to get out there and find it. But quite how she was going to get his prick inside her was beyond her imagination.

Perhaps if I get him a little drunk, tantalise him with my tits, some ideas might come to me?

This had to be her first attempt to scale the steep learning curve of modern seduction.

With that thought and the constant urging from her lizard brain, she stepped into the lounge.

Upstairs in his bedroom He waited a couple of minutes for his erection to subside. His heart was still beating hard in his chest, his mind still full of the sight of her amazing body and the erotic way she had slowly slipped off her panties. Those breasts were even more perfect than those Silki used to hang tantalisingly above his lips for him to suck on her hard nipples, and sometimes push them together so he could thrust his cock between those wonderful mounds, his body arching and bucking as he came hard between them.

What the fuck is going on in my head. Am I sick, hallucinating?

Has someone drugged my drink, have I been hypnotised or a spell cast on me?

Am I going mad?

Jesus!

This is my adopted mother I'm fantasising about!

A wave of shame rippled through him as he remembered that kiss at the airport. Had she really kissed him back, wrapped her long legs around him, deliberately pressed her sex harder onto his obvious erection. And what was that moment on the landing all about? Had he nearly come just looking at her undressing?

Dare I go downstairs to sit with her? Should I risk our future relationship with an unwanted touch or inappropriate suggestion?

Warm room, good wine, a beautiful woman, a near perfect replica of my dream whore. Where might this night end?

There's such a lot at stake!

But now his lizard brain was awake and in persuasive mood, and from somewhere deep down there came an answer. His head filled with lust-driven and dark obsessive images, short staccato scenes of taking her from behind, gripping her hips while he rammed his rampant cock into her and climaxed with ropes of cum gushing into her pussy.

They were so vivid he could almost smell their body fluids mixing and hear her groans as he fucked her harder, longer and deeper than his Dad could ever dream of.

Now he knew that it was inevitable, and she was just a beautiful siren luring a hypnotised mariner to his demise onto waiting rocks.

And why not?

The slut was asking for it!

Look how she had come on to me at the airport.

Now she'll find out the hard way what I can do!

His prick was already thickening around the base as blood filled his shaft and he had to reach down to adjust his pants and allow it to grow.

Scene 10

"How much!" It was Tom. He almost spilt his glass of wine in surprise.

"Two hundred and twenty thousand, why, don't you think I'm worth it?"

They were sitting on the sofa together, mellow and cosy from the heat of the fire and warmed through by excellent red wine.

"Come off it Mum, 220k is a shitload of cash for anyone, let alone Dad. Let's face it, even you his greatest fan, must have been surprised when he first suggested it?"

"He's always been very generous to us both, you know that. You never wanted for anything when you were growing up," she said defensively.

"Mum, I'm not attacking Dad and you know it, so you can stop that. Anyway, you know what I mean. Last time I was over you were my cuddly mum with a double chin and spreading bottom, you know, growing old gracefully, but now!" he indicated her body with a sweep of a hand, "Well you look as if you've been PhotoShopped into a lingerie catalogue model. Can you blame me for my reaction?"

She sat looking at him for a moment then smiled, "So can you blame me for not refusing? I mean, who wouldn't leap at a chance of turning back the clock if it were offered to them?" she said, then took another sip from her glass.

Tom pondered what to say next for a moment or two.

But before he spoke again she leaned forward, placed her wine glass on the low table and stood up, just a little unsteadily.

He continued studying her, anticipating some new revelation, like her and Dad splitting up or she had a new man. The warmth of the room and good wine was beginning to unwind him and he felt relaxed as his inhibitions melted away.

As he watched she held both her arms out to the side and began a slow motion twirl, ensuring he got a good look at the goods on offer.

"This wasn't done just like that you know!" she said slightly peevishly, clicking her fingers for emphasis, "I suffered to look like this, there were lots of miserable weeks for me, waiting for stitches to heal and for those horrid blue and green bruises to fade. Long periods where I never went outside just in case the neighbours saw me and thought your dad had beaten me up or something."

She continued slowly rotating her body, taking tiny circular steps to stay on the same spot.

But her mind wasn't on her recovery, it was on catching Tom's undivided attention, getting him to focus on her body.

If you've got it, flaunt it! she repeated to herself.

Then she paused deliberately, allowing him time to appreciate the shapeliness of her legs and finely sculptured butt. She needed him to check out her skin-tight leggings for the line of her panties, and discover she wasn't wearing any.

Tom had stopped listening. Her slowly moving body had taken over his mind, hypnotising him, filling his head with the lines of her legs and perfect ass.

She was moving again, completing the full circle, now facing him full on.

Shit but she looks so much like Silki, it's fucking uncanny! Almost the same height as her, perhaps an inch or so taller at 5' 10" in her bare feet. She has an even better ass than Silki and those tits and nipples are fucking awesome.

Having finished her peacock display she planted both feet, just far enough apart to show the new gap at the tops of her legs, then put her hands on her hips.

"So what do you think of your old mum now, speaking as a guy with a professional interest in sex workers. Could I get a job in the same brothel as your favourite whore? Do you think anyone might want to book an hour or so with me?"

His mouth opened and the words tumbled out before he could check himself, "God yes, I'd fuck you anytime, your my fucking dream MILF, I'd fuck you now if I could!"

He immediately regretted his outburst, but what was said couldn't be unsaid.

"Sorry mum, I shouldn't have said that, I'm tired and just a bit pissed. Perhaps it'd be best if I headed off to bed before I say anything else I might regret!

But she didn't seem to want him to stop. In a way she looked somehow relieved at what he'd said, and she was smiling.

"So how is she better than me, which bits of my body do I need to work on before I can match her?

Tom didn't need to think, "I think your tits are a million times better than hers, but I haven't actually touched them or even seen them if it comes to that!"

When you ask a question like that you must expect an answer like that! he said to himself.

She hesitated a beat then took her hands from her hips and began to take off the skin- tight 'T' shirt. Tom was transfixed as she struggled to pull it over her tits with her long painted nails.

"D'y want me to help you, I sometimes undress Silki? I'm good with bras' and stockings and suspenders"

She nodded, dropping her hands to her side in submission to him.

Not needing any encouragement he was immediately on his feet, holding her waist he gently turned her around until he was standing close behind her, his erect cock pushing into the crack of her butt.

At his strong touch she felt the same electric thrill charge through her body, just as it always did when John held her from behind, pressing his hard penis against her.

She arched back her neck and closed her eyes, waiting for her lover's hands to cup her breasts and nuzzle his face into her neck.

Then she gasped as his hands took hold of her tits, fingers teasing and feeling for her hardening nipples.

She was in ecstasy again, loving the feeling of helplessness as he dominated her.

Then his face was into her neck, kissing, licking and teasing her skin with lips, tongue and teeth.

Slowly he began to ease the material over her breasts, unhurried, patient, deliberately raising the level of excitement growing inside her.

Tom breathed in and took control of his urges, taking his time before fondling her breasts and those amazing nipples.

Gently he slid one hand up underneath her 'T' shirt, moving it slowly over her silken skin. Slowly, carefully, in case she suddenly protested or changed her mind.

Yet she didn't, just kept her head thrown back, arms still by her side in total submission.

Then his hand cupped the lower part of one breast and she gasped with pleasure at his touch. A second later his other hand was fondling her other breast, thumbs gently teasing the hardened nipples.

"Let's get this off shall we, so I can finally see these new tits?" he whispered softly in her ear, and obediently she raised both arms above her head, allowing him to tug off the tight garment. Then it was over her head, free of her hands and once again she dropped them to her side in submission, her firm breasts now exposed to the warmth of the room. Unable to control his urge any longer he hungrily felt for her bare breasts and after cupping them in both hands he pulled her arching body even harder back onto his throbbing cock.

Her head felt drunk with lust and desire, all she wanted was for him to take her hand in hand to their bedroom and feel his strong body slip between her legs.

She kept her eyes close as he turned her around, catching her breath as he slipped his hands inside the waistband of her leggings, slowly slipping them down her thighs, over the cheeks of her butt, over the mound of her tummy tuck, exposing the perfect triangle of manicured pubic hair.

"So soft and neatly shaved, it looks like velvet. Yes soft, smooth velvet," he said softly.

Then he was kissing her pubic hair, brushing his lips and cheeks from side to side as she lifted each foot to escape the leggings.

In only a few seconds she stood naked, her eyes still tightly shut.

Then she gasped as his hand reached down to caress the mound of her sex, his fingers searching out the shaved lips of her pussy.

"Velvet, yes that's the name I was searching for, Velvet, that's the whore name I'll call you, my Velvet!"

Again she caught her breath in pleasure as her lizard brain screamed at her to reach for the bulging cock in his pants.

Then he stood up, close and personal, and was kissing her feverishly, pressing his tongue between her glossy lips, exploring her soft mouth.

A moment later she felt him slide a hand from her sex, and she was aware of him unfastening his belt, unzipping his flies, then heard his trousers slip to the floor.

This wasn't part of their love routine, John never took off his trousers until they were in the bedroom, and John never felt between her legs, and again she shuddered with anticipation.

"Get down on your knees slut!" she heard a voice suddenly command then opened her eyes.

Suddenly it wasn't John any more. It was Tom, his face flushed red with arousal, his arms now on her shoulders pushing her down onto her knees in front of him.

Momentarily confused she did what he said, kneeling down on the deep pile carpet.

Then her face was just inches away from his huge erection, steadying herself by gripping onto his muscular hairy thighs. She could smell the pre-cum oozing from the shining head.

"Well, suck it you fucking dumb slut!" He said with an unexpected edge of aggression to his voice.

"What's the problem, you never sucked a cock before Velvet, what kind of fucking whore would you make?"

Then his hands were holding the back of her head, forcing her mouth onto the bulging purple knob of his prick. Initially horrified she tried to pull her head away from him, but he was too strong for her and then her closed lips were pressing hard against the rim of his cock-head. She could taste the scent of the sea, musky odour of bleach, all the smells of raw sex.

"Open your fucking mouth and suck me off MILF!" He repeated, menace now in his voice.

Tom looked down at his new slut as she gave in to his pressure, opened her lips and instantly her mouth was filled with his pulsing shaft. His eyes were wide open, his face flushed from the erotic sensations from his cock-head, now glowing like nuclear radiation.

She had realised what he needed now, releasing his thighs and grasping his shaft. But he didn't want to cum in her mouth, he wanted her on all fours to mount from behind and finish the fuck properly.

Yet he thrust his hips forwards, watching her gag as his cock-head touched the back of her throat.

Suck you fucking slut he screamed inside his head, use your fucking tongue and jerk the shaft.

Then a lightbulb lit in her head and suddenly she understood what he wanted from her.

She understood!

Thirty years of sex with John and he had never asked her to put his penis in her mouth. But she was learning quickly, looking up at his face for feedback. Then she slipped into the perfect rhythm he wanted, seeing he had thrown his head back in ecstasy. Another wave of excitement swept her body as she realised there was so much more she had to learn about sex, those techniques she had never imagined.

How would John react to her slowly undoing his belt, carefully unzipping his trousers and reaching in to take hold of his hardening penis, before easing back his foreskin? Then take the shining purple head between her glossy lips, and begin sucking and working his shaft back and forth in a gradually increasing rhythm?

Could she make him come?

What would his cum feel and taste like as it shot repeatedly into her mouth?

At last all her curiosity about why her son sought out working girls for sex began to dawn on her. Although she had been bewildered and felt way outside her comfort zone playing a juvenile game to light his fire, she was now experiencing at first hand the flames of lust and desire she had unwittingly fanned.

In those few seconds of sexual urgency she had become his whore, his Velvet, and she knew beyond doubt that he would soon be inside her, fucking her harder than ever in her life before. And yet the thrill of her own wickedness screamed for him to take her completely and slake the lust she had lit inside him.

For Tom the sex had only just started.

When he was with Silki she knew his needs and after getting him hard with a quick blow-job she would naturally ease them both into the sixty-nine position, knowing how much he loved the lick, smell and taste of her shaved pussy, his tongue darting in and out of her. He would know how to work her clitoris and give her pleasure in return.

Now he wanted eat out his new slut's pussy.

Suddenly she was aware and living in the moment. She could smell the deodorant he had sprayed on his thighs, feel the engorged veins along his shaft and wonder at the mass of tight black curly hair around his balls and up his thighs. She now had mastery of how to suck, lick and tease more feeling into his cock-head, and match the rhythm of her hands twisting and pulling the skin on his shaft. Like a bolt from the blue she understood the true effect she was having on him, as his face contorted with pleasure and his natural thrusting into her mouth. The shocking realisation that her mouth had become her sex thrilled her, and more than anything, she wanted to experience the pulsating shock as he ejaculated, shooting cum into her throat. She was at last beginning to enjoy her first blow-job.

As her tongue licked skillfully around the edge of his cock-head and the skin pulled back tightly. his mind became filled with desire, totally transfixed on this unbelievably sexy sensation.

All he wanted now was to come harder and longer than ever before in his life. The muscles in his thighs began to twitch, his knees shook and the muscles controlling his stomach began to ripple uncontrollably. He was coming!

She noticed immediately the change in his body, the trembling and twitching. Glancing again at his face she saw it was contorted, his eyes screwed tight and his head tossing from side to side,.

Then she felt the base of his shaft suddenly thicken and his penis grow noticeably, now filling her mouth.

Realising he was about to ejaculate she sucked, licked and jerked his shaft even harder.

Then he began to moan and cry out, "Fuck! Oh fuck Velvet, fuck!"

His body was bucking and contorting as his groans grew longer and louder.

Then he came, the power and force of his pulsing contractions taking her by surprise and she struggled to keep him between her lips.

As the first hot ropes of his load hit the roof and side of her mouth she felt a shudder of elation. Then his second contraction, more hot cum began filling the small space around his penis.

So, still sucking and jerking she eased him out of her mouth until her glossy lips were left covering only the slit in his cock-head.

He was still groaning with ecstasy as she finally withdrew his shaft from her mouth, the last convulsions spraying onto her face, her neck and onto her breasts.

She was ecstatic at her work, ecstatic at the smell and taste of his hot seed and gazed up at him in awe at the power she now had over him.

Tom had never experienced such intense sensitivity in his cock before, all thoughts of eating her pussy had gone, as had his intention of mounting her from behind, all he needed was to release control and drown in the ecstatic mind-blowing sensations of his orgasm.

Opening his eyes momentarily he saw her beautiful face looking up at him, the beautiful shine of her blonde hair and those long enameled fingernails jerking him.

He was in love, smitten, absolutely consumed by this woman. Then he experienced the most intense pleasure he could remember, and began groaning and crying out uncontrollably.

For a moment or two she remained kneeling in front of him, his hot semen still in her, filling her mouth, unsure what to do next.

She could feel hot semen on her face and slowly sliding down her breasts, then she swallowed., his cum sliding down her throat and feeling more wicked than even her lizard brain could imagine.

Come home John, she prayed to herself, let me send you into ecstasy with my lips, let me smell and taste your cum, let me swallow it, let me suck you dry. You'll never go away on business again without me. I'll be your whore, do anything you want me to do.

The ultra heightening sensations in his cock-head began to subside and the contractions in the base of his shaft finally ceased, Tom at last became aware of what he'd made his mother do and remember what he'd said to her, God yes, I'd fuck you anytime, you're my dream MILF!

It was no good averting his eyes, he had to look at her. Somehow they had to talk about what had just happened. Was it all over, now his uncontrolled mouth had finally ended any further relationship with his adopted parents.

But as he forced himself to look down at her in the face, she was smiling, despite his cum filling her mouth and slowly dripping off her face onto her breasts. Then with a look of elation he watched in awe as she deliberately looked him in the eyes and swallowed his semen.

Still not breaking eye contact with him she bent forwards once more and licked the rope of cum hanging from the end of his cock, scooped up the cum from her tits and licked it into her mouth, clearly delighting in her outrageous behaviour.

With the last of his semen swallowed she wanted more so took his shaft into her mouth and with one hand slowly jerking him began to lick and suck him again. He instinctively bucked his body as her lips took his sensitivity beyond the limits of his endurance, then he cried out, "Fuck, no more, Velvet, it's too sensitive, no more please!

Seeing his distress she stopped jerking him, stopped sucking and slowly released him with a final lick.

As he opened his eyes she reached across to the low table, and still kneeling slowly poured herself a large glass of red wine, then rinsed out her mouth and swallowed the red liquid. Without a second thought, she lifted the half filled glass to his prick, emerged his cock-head until it touched the bottom, gently swilled it around then drank the contents with relish.

She felt on fire, her mind now thinking of only one thing, taking him upstairs to her bedroom and letting him fuck her. Mind and body were now screaming out for an orgasm.

CHAPTER 11

It was just after 7:15am as they hurriedly turned off the downstairs lights and frantically made their way up the staircase, across the landing and into her bedroom. The sun would be rising over the distant horizon soon, but neither had thoughts for the arrival of dawn.

Behind them, in the living room below, they left two empty bottles of red wine, glasses overturned, dregs staining the white carpet, one with faint traces of semen and lipstick. The living room, now in darkness was filled with the heady scent of her Chanel perfume. On the floor, scattered here and there lay discarded items of clothing, retaining odours of pre-cum, spit, sweat, wine and shower gel.

Both were now completely naked, having sensuously undressed each other while hungrily exchanging deep searching kisses and whispering sexy promises of what they would do to each other when they got upstairs.

She carried another bottle of wine and two fresh glasses while Tom held only his smartphone.

He had padded along behind her as they made their way up the stairs, checking out her ass, legs and hips up close.

He was not disappointed.

Her perfume led him like a bull with a ring through its nose, ensuring his hard-on never eased.

She moved surprisingly easily, even for a lithe and very fit 55 year old, her hips swayed sexily and her ass looked so inviting he wanted to kiss it and run his tongue into her crack.

With the intense kissing and feverish undressing, his erection had returned with a vengeance and he was anticipating the most memorable fuck of his life.

Velvet was the whore name he had given her and he drooled at the thought of taking her from every position he could think of.

She was certainly going to learn at first hand what it was to sell her body for money, and become a genuine sex worker he told himself.

Unusually for him, he was trembling with anticipation for this stunning whore. Whether it was because she was his adopted mother and the taboo of taking her was hardening his cock, or because she was so sexy to look at, firm to touch and erotic to smell, or more likely because she was so inexperienced and clearly aching to feel him inside her.

Whatever the cause, he was again hard, rampant, single-minded and bursting to fuck her.

Yet, as she softly closed the bedroom door behind them he felt the first real pangs of guilt.

This was his father's domain, a place he had always respected and only entered when one of them was present.

In the expensive fitted wardrobes were his business suits, hand-made shirts, bespoke silk ties and craftsman created shoes.

More poignant was the man's white dressing gown still hanging behind the door and slippers awaiting his return on the deep carpet on his side of the bed.

And despite his break-neck urgency to fuck, he hesitated, irrationally unwilling to defile his father's bed.

Irrational because she had come on to him, she had made the first move, she had initiated that incredible blow-job, she had swallowed his cum and licked clean his knob.

He knew he shouldn't even give the bed a second thought, yet he did.

"Not here, I can't do it here! he said suddenly, looking towards Velvet who had moved silently past him and was already on the bed, her knees raised, legs open and arms outstretched towards him. She looked like a centrefold photo from a guy's glossy glamour magazine.

From her position on the bed, Velvet felt momentarily stunned and hurt at his words, glancing hurriedly from his now oddly serious face to his throbbing cock.

She didn't need all this guilt shit right now, all she wanted was to feel his body weight on her and that incredibly sexy moment when he slid his shaft into her pussy.

She was trembling with sexual tension and lost for words. Altogether he was only two steps away, she felt the gulf between them suddenly become as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon.

She tried reaching out an arm towards him, part bridging the chasm between them. But he seemed unable or unwilling to take those two short steps to bring her to ecstacy.

"What then? If not here, where, back downstairs? There was anguish and pleading in her voice. "I want you now," and with her eyes fixed on his, slid her other hand down to her pussy, "I need you inside me now. You can't leave me like this!"

As if somehow detached, switched off, immobilised, he just stood there, his magnificent erection beginning to wane and wilt, like a flower in late Autumn as cold weather blows in.

She was losing the moment, it would soon pass and perhaps never return.

He was not moving, she had to again take the initiative, restore that erection and move them to another, less poignant fuck place.

Tom watched passively as Velvet eased herself from the bed, looked back at him longingly then bent forwards sexily to open the bottom drawer of her dressing table.

At last his eyes began to focus and were drawn inexorably to the gap at the top of her legs and the inviting topiary of her sculptured pussy.

She was searching for something, hunting with a new urgency.

Then she straightened, evidently found whatever it was she wanted.

She turned towards him, in one hand a pair of black patent four inch heeled 'fuck me' stilettos, in the other a small bundle of black lingerie, which she carefully separated and laid out on the bed.

A six strap suspender belt, a pair of seamed black stockings, a peep-hole bra and black velvet neck choker.

She knew this was her last chance before the spell finally broke.

Immediately she noticed his erection begin to restore, he was looking from the stilettos to the stockings and suspenders. It might just work.

"You said that you sometimes helped undress Silki, so what you can take off you can help me put on. Come on Tom, help me dress like your whore, then you can undress and fuck me?'

She held out her hand to him, 'Come on my lover, help me put on these stockings and suspenders, please?"

Tom felt the spell begin to break, felt his erection return with a vengeance, felt his animal needs surge through his body.

"Just the stilettos, fuck the rest of the stuff, come on you fucking slut, get yourself onto the landing, move yourself or I'll have to punish you by fucking your ass!"

With that he moved towards the bedroom door, opened it and turned to look back at her.

She stood on one leg, her ass resting on the dressing table, slipping her foot into the first stiletto. Then the second shoe was on, and she stood up, now grown much taller, her whole posture altered, breasts pushed forwards, hips and ass pushed back. She had become an incredibly sexy towering amazon.

And he wanted to take her down that instant.

Although it had been several years since she had last worn stilettos, she managed to adjust to the odd posture and was careful to sway her body as sexily as she could, slipping past him in the doorway, her thigh pushing almost imperceptibly against his erection, and out onto the landing.

Then things happened quicker than she could ever have imagined. In a split second he had taken her by the hips, spun her around, slamming her back against a wall.

Still jolted by the impact she felt his strong arms close around her ass as she was lifted from the floor.

He was pressed hard against her now, his hard cock pushing between her thighs. Instinctively she lifted her legs around his waist, her arms now tight around his neck, her wet lips tight on his.

Then all that she had waited for came true as he slipped his throbbing shaft into her, his hips thrusting hard until his pubic hair mixed with hers.

He grunted a deep animal grunt and in return she gasped with pleasure, bewildered at his speed, strength and sexual technique.

Suddenly he moved away from the wall, supporting her with taught muscles, she gripped him even tighter. They were in the middle of the landing, midway between the bathroom, her bedroom, his bedroom and the stairs.

Then he began lifting her ass, just enough until the lips of her pussy reached the rim of his cock-head. Then he lowered her until their hairs once more mingled, her juices now lubricating his shaft.

"Well move you slut," he said parting their lips momentarily, "you want to be a whore, so fuck me!"

Slowly she began to gyrate, at first unsure which muscles to move and in which direction? Then, just as she had done with the blow job she found the movement and the rhythm to match the thrusting of his cock.

Unsure at first she gripped tighter with her long legs, lifting her body until she realised how to synchronise her upwards movement with his downwards rhythm. Then they were riding hard onto each other. Concentrating hard she became more aware of the contours, ridges and shape of his glorious cock, the thick base of his shaft stretching her, his tight curly pubic hair pressing into the wet shining lips of her labia, the slap of his ball sack against her. She began to squeeze tighter around rim of his cockhead , and got and instant reaction as he stiffened and groaned with pleasure. Then, as she began to realise that she was now controlling the fuck, she arched her back, thrusting her hard tits and engorged nipples forwards, forcing them into his face. She was instantly rewarded as he began searching for her nipples with open mouth and hot tongue. Then he was sucking hard onto her.

Distracted by her hard tits and the tight grip she had around his cockhead his rhythm slowed allowing her to control his growing sensitivity. Now fully in control she reduced her thrusts to short, tight jerks onto the rim of his glans. Then he began to groan aloud with her every tug.

Yes she was fucking him now, for the first time in her life she wasn't the passive partner.

Suddenly he stretched out a finger from around the cheek of her but and began feeling for her tight rosebud. Then she gasped as he began slowly circling his finger around her anal entrance and she longed for him to push it deep up inside her hole.

At that moment she felt his shaft thicken and heard him whimper with ecstasy and knew his hot thick ropes of cum would soon be pulsing into her.

Just as he began to come, his finger slid into her rosebud and she shuddered uncontrollably with ecstasy as they climaxed together.

As his searing hot cum shot deep into her she tightened her pussy just behind the rim of his glans and began milking him until he cried out for her to stop.

Then gradually he released his tight grip on her firm body, first allowing one leg to the floor while his long cock was still buried hard and deep inside her.

Then finally free and with both feet on the carpet, she pulled back her head, opened her sweet glossy lips to him, and he began to devour her mouth, sucking in her sweet spit and sucking her tongue into his mouth.

Velvet had experienced a master class in the art of the fuck, she had learned so many new sensations and new sexual technique, she was determined to take his hard cock into her many times every day during his stay.

She could only get better and knew without doubt that she had become his whore and knew she would be available to fuck whenever he wanted her.

Then she felt his warm cum seep from her fanny onto her thigh and felt another thrill electrify her body.

The End.