• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Incest/Taboo
  • /
  • Giving In Ch. 07

Giving In Ch. 07

12

Chapter 7 -- Love Is Blind

It was 11:00 Wednesday morning. Martha Baldwin sat in her parked car two blocks from home, wondering how she'd be able to face her best friend and her son after all the events that transpired the previous day.

She was wearing a tee shirt that was several sizes too big for her, and a pair of blue cut-off sweat pants, both of which were complements of Billy Cavanaugh. The loan had become necessary when young Billy, an eighteen-year-old basketball player and former teammate of her son, had ripped her shirt from her body, rendering the garment unfit for public display. The slacks had fared much better, and lie neatly folded in the back seat.

Billy's attack on her had been wild and determined, but not unwanted. In fact, it had taken quite a bit of urging on her part to get him started.

Throwing herself at teenagers was not something the 42 year-old woman normally did. But yesterday had been different. It started with her leaving work early and watching through the back window of her house as her naked, blindfolded best friend lay across her son's lap while he spanked her mercilessly. This was the very same best friend who'd seduced her into a lesbian encounter just the week before. And it got worse when Denise, still blindfolded, gave herself to two of Ted's friends, allowing them to completely have their way with her.

But the real problem was the jealousy that Martha felt for Denise, and the forbidden thoughts for her son that she couldn't get out of her mind.

So to solve her problem, to satisfy the unfulfilled desire that burned in her veins, she'd taken advantage of a chance encounter with young Billy Cavanaugh. After spending the night with him, surrendering herself completely to his every desire, she'd called in sick to work, borrowed something to wear, and started home. While the encounter had been immensely satisfying, it had not, unfortunately, lessened the yearnings she had for her son, or the jealousy she felt of her best friend.

Taking a deep breath, Martha put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, heading for home.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Denise asked.

"As sure as I can be," Ted answered.

It was 7:30 that evening when Martha stepped out to run a quick errand. Ted wasted no time taking his story to Denise, Martha's best friend and temporary housemate -- not to mention his submissive lover.

"When she got home, she was wearing a tee-shirt and cut-off sweatpants," Ted explained. "Certainly not what she wore to work, and not the kind of garb you'd expect someone her own age to lend her.

"She was acting really nervous, which considering what she saw, isn't too surprising. But she was, I don't know, different somehow," he said, searching for the right words.

"Yeah," Denise said. "I noticed the same thing at dinner."

"Anyway, she headed straight for the shower and stayed there quite a while," Ted explained. "I snuck into her room, intending to look through her purse for any 'incriminating' evidence, but I never got that far. I saw the cut-off sweatpants lying inside out on the floor, with Billy Cavanaugh's name written across the inside of the waistline."

"But that doesn't prove it was him," Denise interjected. "It could have been his father, or his mother, for that matter."

"No," Ted responded. "I ran into Billy at the gym last week. He said his parents were in Hawaii for two weeks."

"Oh, my. It looks like we created a monster," Denise replied, a wry smile crossing her lips.

"Boy, would I love to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter," Ted said dreamily, finding it more and more difficult to see his mother in anything but a sexual context.

* * *

It was two nights later when Ted and Denise next discussed the matter. It had become increasingly apparent to both of them that Martha was in the midst of an enormous personal struggle. She was always nervous around them, fidgeting with her fingers, never looking either of them in the eyes. Further, she was always finding excuses to get out of the house, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours.

But what struck Ted most was the meekness, clearly not a trait he'd ever associated with his mother before.

"If I didn't know better," Ted said, "I'd swear she had feelings for me. Sexual feelings, I mean."

Denise looked at him, silent for a moment. "Trust me, she does," she finally said. "Women can sense these things. Just like I can sense that you have feelings for her."

For a moment neither spoke. Finally, without another word, Ted turned and headed for his room.

* * *

It was several hours later, long after Martha and Denise had headed off to their separate bedrooms for the night, before Ted finally left his room. He crept furtively to Denise's room, waking her carefully.

Thirty minutes later, he was back to his own room, a smile on his face, and his plan firmly in place.

* * *

Breakfast that Saturday morning had been an awkward affair, very little conversation and almost no eye contact. Even Ted's announcement of his plans to go to his buddy's cabin for the remainder of the weekend met very little interrogation from his mom, just a meek acceptance. He departed shortly after breakfast, leaving the two women alone.

Martha and Denise spent the remainder of the morning avoiding each other. It was sometime in the early afternoon when Martha headed out to do the weekly grocery shopping.

Denise was in her room when Martha returned. She listened as she brought in the groceries. It wasn't until she heard her beginning to put everything away that she left her room, heading for the kitchen.

The women made brief eye contact before Martha turned away. Denise made no effort to help her friend, choosing instead to stand silently and watch as Martha scurried about the kitchen. Only once did Martha stop what she was doing to look at Denise questioningly. When Denise just stood there, staring, Martha quickly went back about her business.

Martha was bent over at the waist putting the last of the groceries into the cupboard. She rose up and turned around, gasping when she bumped into Denise. Before she could react, Denise took her friend's face between her hands and pulled her close. For a moment, Martha froze, the internal conflict paralyzing her with thoughts of her son, of a naked and submissive Denise, and of a young and hungry Billy Cavanaugh. But her dilemma passed quickly as the emotions she'd kept bottled up inside her finally burst free.

She threw her arms around Denise as their lips came crashing together. Hungrily, the two women devoured each other, bodies pressing hard against each other, tongues dancing freely.

Denise broke the kiss first, sliding one arm around her lover while the other pulled her head gently against her shoulder. And she could feel the tension - or was it desperation - in her friend's embrace as she gently stroked her hair.

"This must have been hard on you," Denise said after a bit.

Martha pulled her head back and looked questioningly at her friend. But Denise just smiled, and pulled her head back against her shoulder.

"It's okay," she said, once again stroking her hair. "I know you were watching us the other day."

Denise could sense her friend's tension growing again as they continued their embrace. After a time, she pushed Martha gently away, reached out to brush the hair from her eyes and gave a warm, reassuring smile.

"Do you trust me, Martha?" she asked softly.

For a moment, there was no response. Finally, Martha nodded her head slowly, hesitantly.

"Do you want me to help you?"

This time, there was a pleading look in her eyes. "Yes."

Denise leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead, pulling the blindfold from her back pocket. Martha panicked when she saw what Denise held in her hand, jumping back instinctively. Her internal turmoil ran rampant as she wrestled with her emotions.

But Denise just stood by quietly, waiting, the blindfold held out before her. For Martha, time seemed to stand still. She wanted to run, tried to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She opened her mouth to protest, to scream out NO! But nothing came out.

Slowly, she could feel her resolve failing as the thoughts of Denise spread out across Ted's lap filled her mind. 'Ted! Oh my God, Ted!' She screamed silently to herself as she stiffened up again. 'What about Ted?' But her latest panic lasted only a moment. Ted wasn't there. He was gone for the weekend.

And that's when she decided. That's when she realized she couldn't escape her emotional web alone, and the only way to solve her problem was to go wherever Denise decided to take her.

So, she took a deep breath, and stepped back towards Denise.

"Turn around," Denise said, her voice a little firmer than it had been. Martha moved to obey, slipping naturally, even comfortably, into her role.

And then the lights went out for Martha, as Denise eased the blindfold over her eyes and tied it snuggly behind her head.

Only then did Denise look towards the back window, to the spot where Martha had watched from earlier in the week, and the spot where Ted watched from now. She smiled and held up both hands, with all fingers extended. Ten minutes. Then she returned her attention to Martha.

For those ten minutes Denise embraced Martha from behind. She nibbled on her ears and blew gently into them. She licked and kissed her way down one side of her neck and up the other. She let her hands roam freely over her captive's clothed body, down her sides, over her tummy and between and around her breasts. Eventually, her hands found their way to the breasts themselves, and to that magical spot between her legs.

For the first time in days, Martha was relaxed, her body responding to the magic hands. She moaned as they gently caressed her, and sighed as they rubbed her breasts. She almost cried when they wandered between her legs, so great was her relief.

And then the doorbell rang. Martha stiffened instantly, her hands starting for the blindfold. But they never reached it, as Denise grabbed them, brought them back to her sides and held them firmly in place.

"You said you trusted me. Do you or don't you?"

"I do, but . . ."

"No buts," Denise said, cutting her off. "You either trust me, or you don't. Which is it?"

Martha stood there, mouth agape, unable to respond.

"I know you watched us through the back window. I know that you came at least twice. And I know about Billy," she said the last softly, for effect. "Martha, I know what you want and what you need even better than you do. But I won't force you." There was a moment's hesitation. "Last chance. Yes or no?"

Slowly, barely perceptible, Martha nodded her head.

"Good," Denise said, and the doorbell sounded again. "At the front door is a friend of mine, a lover. He's going to help you. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. But," she said emphatically, "once you let him in, the blindfold stays on until I take it off. Agreed?"

Again, Martha nodded her head.

"Say it," Denise insisted.

"I agree. The blindfold stays on until you take it off." Somehow, just saying the words gave Martha a new resolve. She stretched her hands out in front of her, feeling around for objects, and made her way slowly towards the door.

The doorbell rang one more time before she reached it. She felt around until she found the knob, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Martha stood beside the open door, her hand clutching the doorknob. She could feel her body shaking as she lowered her head. A hand took hold of hers, pulling it away from the door. The next sound she heard was the sound of the front door closing.

For a moment, nothing happened. Martha's mind was running in circles. Who was this stranger? Why did she allow Denise to talk her into this? What was he going to do? Why was she doing this?

Just when she could stand it no more, a finger touched the bottom of her chin, lifting it up slowly. And then the stranger's lips touched hers, lightly at first, barely grazing them. And then again, lingering just a bit this time. And then one more time, only this time the stranger's lips surrounded hers, and she felt his tongue probing against her lips. Instinctively, she opened up, allowing his tongue to enter.

She reached out for him with her mouth, allowing the kiss to fuel her passion until the kiss was the only thing that mattered. And then there were hands on her breasts, squeezing the bra-encased mounds roughly through her white cotton shirt. As her fire burned hotter and hotter, a distant part of her mind wondered, who is this? Is it Jimmy? Is it Ron? It could be either one, based on what she witnessed the other day. Or maybe it was Billy Cavanaugh! After all, Denise did say she knew about him. But she dismissed Billy. She was certain she would recognize him. It had to be either Jimmy or Ron.

The lips broke away suddenly, leaving her reaching out with her mouth, still wanting, as the hands continued to fondle her tits. Standing there blindfolded, with a stranger mauling her bosom and her best friend looking on, she felt cheap. She felt slutty.

There was a final squeeze, one that made her gasp, before the hands released her, leaving her alone and blindfolded, waiting for what would happen next. She heard a rustling noise, and then felt hands pulling on her shoelaces, first the right foot, then the left. A hand grabbed her by the back of her right calf and lifted her foot from the ground, pulling off the shoe with the other hand. The process was repeated for the other foot, and then for each of the ankle socks she wore.

The stranger ran his fingers lightly up her legs, starting at the feet, continuing until they reached the hem of her shorts. But they didn't stop there, continuing instead up to the front snap.

Just when the front snap was released, she felt Denise step up behind her and grab hold of her top. By now, Martha was too caught up in the game to stop, much too involved to even consider protesting. Instead, she raised her arms obediently.

The next thing she knew, her top was sliding over her head and her shorts were sliding down her legs, panties and all. As quick as that, she had been stripped down to just her bra, which lasted only moments longer as Denise quickly removed and discarded the final unwanted article.

Martha stood naked before the stranger, her heart pounding through her chest. Now she was beginning to understand what had driven Denise the other day. Now she could feel that very same lust coursing through her veins that had so obviously driven her friend. And now, she was ready for more.

"Take two steps forward, stop, and bend at the waist," Denise ordered.

Ted watched as his naked mother immediately followed the instructions, amazed at how easily she'd been coerced into this situation. He could tell she was hot, and he knew he could have her right now. But he wasn't ready yet. There was still more of the game to be played.

He moved slowly behind his mother until her ass was directly in front of him. First, he touched her ass ever-so-lightly, trailing his fingertips across her bare buttocks. He ran his fingers between her butt-cheeks, lightly passing over her dark hole before gliding teasingly over her wet pussy.

WHACK! Martha jumped at the sudden, painful attack, clearly caught off guard.

"Hold your position!" Denise ordered.

Quickly, Martha returned to her bent over position, waiting for what was to come next. It was only then that she thought of Ted, and of the spanking he'd delivered mercilessly to her best friend's backside. It was then that the thought first crossed her mind. Ted! It couldn't be! Could it? But Ted had gone camping. Or was that just a story?

Before she had time to panic, she felt his fingers sliding into her pussy, and again, all thoughts except her deprived need for more were expunged from her head. She bit her lip, shaking slightly as the fingers began working their way in and out of her wanton pussy. She allowed her ass to gyrate against his fingers, and she could feel her pleasure mounting.

WHACK! Another sharp, unexpected blow, and then nothing. She held her bent over position, aware of a slight bustling of activity around her.

"Stand up!" Denise ordered.

She immediately obeyed. Denise took hold of her arm and led her slowly across the room.

"Kneel down," she said after they'd stopped.

When Martha moved to obey, she realized that the stranger was seated on a chair immediately in front of her.

"Bend over his lap!" Denise ordered firmly.

But this time, Martha hesitated. This was much too similar to Ted and Denise's display the other day to be coincidence. Again she wondered if this could be Ted. Only this time, she thought there was a strong chance that it was. And now, she didn't know what to do. She'd gone too far to stop. She desperately needed to continue. But how could she if this really was Ted?

Quickly, her mind responded. It didn't have to be Ted. After all, Denise knew she'd seen them, knew she'd gotten off on watching them. What would be more natural than for her to recreate the scene, only with someone else? Someone other than Ted.

She knew the argument was weak. But it was enough. It had to be enough, because there was no way she could stop now.

Slowly, she reached out and felt for his lap. Just as slowly, she began lowering herself across it until she was completely prone, completely at his will. And as she lay there naked across his lap, she wondered again if it was Ted. Only this time, she couldn't deny that secretly she was hoping it was.

She closed her already sight-deprived eyes when his hands touched her, left hand grazing lightly over her back, right hand squeezing her cheeks. She could feel his excited manhood pressing against her through his pants and she wondered if it was as beautiful as Ted's, or if it was Ted's, and how long would she have to wait before it would be hers?

She gasped when the fingers slid into her wet pussy and began pumping her womanhood. She could feel her pleasure mounting as he pumped her harder, harder.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Subconsciously, she knew the blows were coming, but still, they caught her off guard. She screamed out, instinctively trying to rise up from his lap. But he held her firm, quickly re-inserting his fingers into her pussy. She let out an exasperated moan as the pleasure began again, supplanting the pain.

This time he worked her womanhood longer, bringing her closer to release, but not nearly close enough, before . . . WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Again she screamed out. Again she tried to rise from his lap. And again he held her down firmly.

A moment passed. "On your knees," Denise barked out, breaking the silence.

But Martha hesitated, not wanting the pleasure/pain to stop. "On your knees," Denise repeated. Slowly Martha moved to obey.

She heard the stranger rise to his feet and move away, only to be replaced on the chair by Denise. "Bend over my knees," Denise ordered.

She reached out for Denise's legs, her spirit uplifted thinking the pleasure/pain might continue. She was surprised to find the legs unclothed. She hesitated a moment. When Denise didn't immediately yell at her, she let her hand wander over her best friend's body, finding it completely devoid of clothing.

She allowed her hands to hesitate on her friend's breasts. She swore she heard her moan as she squeezed the mounds, as she toyed with her nipples.

"That's enough," Denise exclaimed, not quite as forcefully as before. "Over my lap."

This time, Martha quickly complied, wondering what a sight this must be for the stranger.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Denise wasted no time, lashing out quickly and firmly at the prone woman. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! This time, tears welled up in Martha's eyes as she screamed out. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

12
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Incest/Taboo
  • /
  • Giving In Ch. 07

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 15 milliseconds