Incest/Taboo Mom's Road to Recovery

I was sweeping out the garage bay of the mechanic's shop where I worked a summer job when I felt my cell phone buzzing in my coveralls. I pulled it out and a voice said, "Is this John Hunter? This is Ms. McCloud down at the Stay-Eez Inn. I was to let you know if..." she paused as if a bit uncomfortable."

I sighed softly and then said, "Yes, ma'am. What room is she in?" I said this as I headed towards the office, already shrugging my way out of my oil stained coveralls.

There was a slight hesitation before the woman said, "Room 118."

I replied, "Thanks," and hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Stepping into the office, my boss, Tony Giatano looked up and when I said, "Gotta go -- it's Mom," he got a sad look on his face and just nodded. I was in my pickup truck and gone in a rush, trying to beat red lights as I rushed across town.

I pulled into the Stay-Eez Inn with a heavy heart. Every town has a motel like this one -- built back in the day -- long and flat and one story high -- the old classic motor inn where the cars park right in front of their rooms. Sometimes there's a pool -- more often than not empty or with green algae floating on top due to neglect. Some places rent their rooms by the hour while others try to turn them into pseudo apartments and rent them by the week or the month. The Stay-Eez worked all those options.

I cruised down the line of doors counting them off until I came to Room 118. A minivan and a beat up looking Camero were parked outside and I pulled up next to the minivan, again heaving a great big sigh. As I climbed out, three guys emerged from 118, laughing and elbowing each other. Each looked sweaty -- two of them in dirty T-shirts and greasy jeans, the other, as big as the other two put together, had on an old, stained dress shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off flabby muscles that once upon a time might have been impressive.

As they saw me making directly for the door -- the big guy laughed and said, "You're late to the party, kid!"

The other guys thought this was funny and one of the skinnier fellows followed up with, "Don't be worried, though -- if'n you don't mind sloppy seconds and thirds, she'll be more than willing! Hell, we'd still be at it if we ain't had to get back to work!" I gave them a dirty look over my shoulder as I opened the door, my face turning red as they kept laughing as the climbed into the Camero. "Motherfuckers," I muttered under my breath as I opened the door and steeled myself for what I might find.

Mom was lying face down on the bed, her peppery-gray hair, tangled and sweaty, spread out on the pillows, obscuring her face. She was naked and a quick glance around revealed a short skirt and a sweater blouse nearby -- black nylons nestled around a pair of stiletto high heels in one corner next to a sagging overstuffed chair.

As I approached, Mom moaned out, "Mmmmm -- ready for more -- give me some stiff dick!" as she wiggled her ass cheeks and spread her legs, shapely even though they were full, revealing her shaved pussy, labia spread wide open, with semen slowly oozing from between her lips as well as from between her fleshy asscheeks.

I felt a swell of conflicting emotions ripple through me -- my heart breaking as I said softly under my breath, "Oh, Mom -- not again," even as I tried to ignore the shameful twinges growing between my legs as my cock responded to the sight of my mother's nakedness. I tore my gaze from my bare-assed mother and walked on into the bathroom -- a small affair with a tub that thankfully looked relatively clean and a shower nozzle overhead. I began running a hot bath, finding a tiny bottle of liquid soap to pour in.

Returning to the other room, I discovered Mom had rolled over -- now lying on her back, spread eagled -- one hand slowly fluttering over her cum filled pussy while the other played over a swollen nipple capping a large, slightly sagging breast. Her eyes were closed as she sighed out, "I need cock!" Again, I felt a turmoil of emotions as I realized that semen was smeared in her face and hair, becoming tacky as it slowly dried. I shook my head as I tried to dismiss the image of Mom eagerly taking some stranger's spunk in her face.

"You need a bath, Mom," I said softly, reaching out and taking her hand.

Mom opened her eyes and turned her head slowly. "Ohhhh, John," she sighed. She allowed herself to be pulled up to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her meaty breasts swaying as she moved. I tried to keep my eyes on Mom's face. She looked down at the grungy, threadbare carpet, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry, son," Mom whispered.

"Its okay, Mom," I replied as I helped her get to her feet. Mom staggered against me, her large breasts mashing against my chest -- her nickel sized nipples, still hard and swollen, scraping against the thin cotton of my T-shirt. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Mom, unsteady on her feet, leaned heavily on me, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist as I walked her into the bathroom. I could smell her, the mixed aromas of sweat, wet pussy and sperm coming off her in thick waves. I had to slip one arm under hers to keep her up, my hand inadvertently pressing into her swaying breast, my eyes wandering again and again to her shaved mound, pussy lips still spread wide.

I helped Mom slip into the steamy, soapy water, her groan of satisfaction making the hairs on my arm rise up while it made blood rush to my cock. I was relieved to see most of her nakedness disappear beneath the soap bubbles, hoping it would help quell the feelings I had surging through me. I knelt there next to the tub for a few minutes studying Mom as she relaxed, wondering what I could do to fix this insane situation. Finally, I reached up to the metal shelf over the toilet and pulled down a washcloth and soaking it in the water, began washing Mom's face.

Mom opened her brilliant blue eyes and rolled her face towards me -- her expression a mixture of shame and love. "I'm sorry, John...I, I did it again," she murmured like a repentant child.

I shrugged and said, "Let's not worry about it now. Here..." I placed the washcloth in her hand and continued, "Get washed up, Mom and we can go home."

I saw tears well up in my mother's eyes as she slowly nodded and almost robotically began to wipe herself off in the water. I should have averted my eyes as she swept one meaty breast up and washed it clean, leaving pink skin marred by bite marks, both new and old. As Mom dropped her hand into the water, her knees rising up as she ran the cloth between the middle of her legs, she shivered and said, "I just can't help it. I try not to think about it...honestly, I try and do without, but I want it so much..."

Mom's body shivered slightly as she rubbed herself more intently until I reached out and touched her on the shoulder and said as my face reddened, "Let's shower you off and get you dressed.

Mom nodded meekly and as I helped her come to her feet in the tub, her slightly overweight body slick with soapsuds that ran down her chest and stomach and legs in a way that made the blood pound in my brain. I got the shower flowing, rinsing Mom's body off as she stroked her skin, turning and facing me, her breasts swaying entrancingly as she leaned forward to allow me to rinse the sperm out of her hair and while Mom closed her eyes, I found myself helpless, unable to turn away from her mature beauty. I can feel my erection struggling for space in my khakis.

Once the shower is turned off, I helped Mom out of the tub and she stood close as I towel her off, eyes again closed and her nipples barely touching my chest as she allowed me to dry her off. I wrapped the towel around her shoulders, draping the rough cotton material over her breasts and letting her know that she needed to finish herself. Mom opened her eyes again and before I could step away, moved against me, her right arm coming up around my neck as she said almost too soft to hear, "I don't deserve you, son." Her lips came up and pressed against mine and I felt myself go rigid as she kissed me, her tongue sneaking out to brush ever so lightly against my lips before pulling away.

I beat a hasty retreat into the bedroom while Mom finished toweling off, gathering up her clothes. A few minutes later, Mom walked out of the bathroom, unashamedly naked- walking a little bowlegged. I tried to look away, but it was impossible to do. I should've been ashamed to even dare look at my mother naked, but it was if she didn't realize how hard she was making it for me...or that she didn't care. She quickly slipped on her dress and then her sweater shirt. The skirt is scandalously short, exposing her upper thighs, while the lightweight sweater molds itself around her heavy breasts, her nipples clearly outlined by the material.

"I looked around and couldn't find, um, your panties," I said to Mom, only to have her look at me -- her expression gradually changing from mild amusement to embarrassment as I slowly realized there were no panties to find. Mom slipped on her high heels and then stood before me, not so much looking like a middle-aged mother, but a wanton slut about to walk the streets. I felt helpless -- unable to turn away and even though we both know its wrong, I could not help but stare at my mother while she smiled -- pleased at my attention.

I followed Mom home, whispering, "Fuck," as I spied Dad's car already in the driveway. I walked into the house just behind her to find Dad standing in the hallway, a torrent of snarling words exploding from his lips.

"Again! I swear, Cassie -- you need to pray to God for the salvation of your soul. He has a special place reserved in Hell for sluts and whores like you!"

Mom stood her ground for a moment, but finally burst into tears, sobbing, "I'm sorry," as she ran up the stairs. A moment later, the door to the guest bedroom slammed shut and I knew it would be another long freaking night in the Hunter home.

Dad glared at me as if I had betrayed him and maybe in my heart I had, before snapping at me, "Where the hell did you find her this time?"

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Does it matter, Dad? She needs help."

My father brushed past and into the living room, settling heavily into his old recliner. He picked up his newspaper and snapped it open with a loud pop. "Do you know who it was...or was there more than one this time?"

I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, a sudden vision of the three lowlifes naked and in bed with my mother, fucking her hard and brutally, not caring for her, just seeing her as another cheap whore they picked up in a bar...Mom's face contorted in absolute lust as they pounded their cocks into her. I drove the image from my mind and opening my eyes, replied, "Does it matter, Dad? We need to get Mom some real help."

I was just short of my fifteenth birthday when Mom disappeared and by that, I mean she was kidnapped. It was just another uneventful day in the lives of the Hunter family when Mom announced she was off to the supermarket and asked me if I wanted anything special, rolling her eyes when I said jokingly, a six pack of beer. She ran her purse strap over her shoulder, smiled at me the way only a mother does and was out the door...and she didn't come back.

It was late afternoon before we knew anything was wrong and then only because a sheriff's deputy came to the house and informed us that Mom's minivan had been found deserted on a country road -- groceries still inside along with her wallet, credit card and forty-nine dollars in cash. Of Mom there was no sign and no clue as to what had happened.

Dad was stoic from the start, fearing to state the worst or the best scenarios possible. A massive search was begun -- combing fields and woods for miles around, but to no avail. It was as if Mom had vanished from the face of the earth. Days turned into weeks turned into months. The state police and the F.B.I. did all but announce she was considered dead and as the first year of her absence passed, Dad (who had been considered the most likely suspect, but who had clearly been at work at the time of her disappearance was completely exonerated), and I had the sense that Mom now dwelled in the realm of what law enforcement called the cold case files.

My father rarely showed his emotions, never crying and castigating me when he caught me crying over Mom, harshly chewing me out and saying, "Your mother would have wanted us to be brave, John." In his heart, by the first Christmas, I think he gave Mom up for dead, but I refused to ever consider that as a possibility -- the sense that Mom was alive...somewhere out there in the world, always lingered in my heart and I never gave up hope.

I often dreamed of her, especially of her on the last day I saw her -- her slender frame dressed in a long denim dress, her lovely face framed by her short black hair, cut much like that old movie actress, Aubrey Hepburn, blue eyes brilliant and glowing. I dreamed that she left and came back and that life went on as it should have, all of us living happily ever after. It hurt the most for me after those dreams. I would cry a bit in my bed and vow never to give up hope that she would return.

We were three years and a few months beyond her disappearance, me celebrating my eighteenth birthday the spring before my senior year of high school when the local chief of police showed up at our house. He had a stunned smile on his face as he gushed to my father and me that Mom was alive -- that she'd been found in a house thirty miles away. Chief Brenner gave us a siren escort to the hospital, Dad so shocked he could barely keep the car on the road.

A nurse ushered us into Mom's room and we both just stopped and stared in wonder at the woman sleeping in the hospital bed with IVs stuck in her and the frightful sounds of a monitor keeping track of her vital signs. The nurse, a young, blonde-haired woman saw our dismay and concern and quickly reassured us. "She's doing fine -- she's just badly dehydrated. All she needs are fluids and rest." She reached out and patted my shoulder. "Your mother is okay...it's like a miracle."

All I could do was nod and be amazed as I stared at the woman who was definitely my Mom, yet seemed so different. Mom's hair which she had cut in that short, pixie style my whole life was now long, hanging down around her shoulders -- the luxurious black gone peppery gray. Her face was still relatively unlined for a woman of 42 and her slender figure had filled out some, making her face fuller and less angular. A peaceful expression was on her sleeping face, making her look more beautiful than I remembered.

It was only then that I saw my father cry as he uncharacteristically hugged me to him and cried softly, "We got our girl, back, John! God be praised, I've got my Cassie back!"

We watched her sleep for a bit and then the local police showed up and gave us some details. Some teenagers had broken into a house on a lark and had found her there, handcuffed to a bed in an upstairs bedroom in what had been otherwise an empty house. The officials told us this a bit awkwardly and their uncomfortable glances informed me that they were leaving things out, apparently for my sake.

In the end, between the newspapers and news shows and what little Dad shared with me, I learned most of it. Mom had been kidnapped by a man who had called himself Darren Jones, a fiftyish white and nondescript male who had kept Mom locked up in a small bedroom with steel plates over the windows and a reinforced steel door, and who had used her for sex -- raping her times beyond counting. The local police and the federal guys were all highly complimentary to Mom -- claiming that it was her strength of character that allowed her to survive the ordeal.

All evidence pointed to Jones having simply packed up and moved on, leaving Mom handcuffed to the bed to die of thirst. It was pure dumb luck that a couple of juvenile delinquents had broken into the house and found Mom before she died. They called 911 and never surfaced to claim any reward. As for Jones, he disappeared and the F.B.I. offered vague hints of seeing this madman's work before and that Mom was very, very lucky. To date, he's never been caught.

Dad was told more, but he shared it with no one. Maybe it was what the police told him that made him more remote, but in any case, it was an awkward reunion with Mom -- Dad holding Mom almost at arms length and Mom herself very quiet and reserved, staring at us both like we were strangers. She cried once, when I came into her arms and she held on to me for minutes, hugging me tight, pressing her body against mine like she meant to never let me go.

I had dreamed of having Mom in my arms again, but the reality was quite different as feelings of utter joy and happiness were suddenly competing with the young male instincts of having a well built woman rubbing against me with only my clothes and a hospital gown between us. There was no ignoring the fact that Mom's full breasts were mashing into my T-shirt...I could even feel her nipples -- large and thick, pressing against me, so full and hard, it was almost like there was no clothing at all between us. To my dismay, I was sporting a respectable boner in my jeans when she let me go and I quickly, albeit awkwardly, shifted to the chair beside her bed, positioning myself to obscure my erection.

Mom looked as flushed and awkward as I felt and I was suddenly cognizant of how good looking a woman my mother was -- she'd always been my pretty Mom, but now, I saw her as something else...something more -- maybe it was the long and graying hair and the new, more lush figure that made me regard her as more than simply a beautiful woman. Maybe it was those lovely blue eyes that somehow regarded me with both a familiar motherly appraisal and something that was more primal. Her gaze gave me shivers and made me throb between my legs in a way I knew wasn't right.

My uncomfortable feelings were left behind as we all sat there, soon joined by Mom's brother and his family and began catching Mom up on the family and events over the last two years. Still, once in a while, Mom would glance over at me in such a way as to make me think she knew full well what I'd been thinking.

The doctors insisted that Mom stay in the hospital for a few days to regain her strength. This also allowed the authorities access to grill her and gather any clues about her ordeal that might allow them to catch Darren Jones. The doctors also stressed that Mom's ordeal mentally was far from over -- advocating extensive counseling and therapy to help her recover from whatever traumas she had endured. Dad with his usual abrupt attitude brushed aside most of the doctors' concerns, stating over and over, "Cassie will be fine once we get her home where she belongs."

Finally, we did get to take her home. The drive was quiet and strange -- Mom's attention divided between the scenery -- the everyday things that we see and take for granted captivating her -- and the odd, long looks she would give me and Dad...looks that made me uncomfortable. Mom was also squirming, looking uncomfortable in one of her old sweatsuits that was on of the few things we thought would fit her, tugging and fussing with her bra straps. She made a few mutterings under her breath -- comments that led me to understand that while she was Jones's prisoner, she'd not worn a bra or very little else.

It wasn't till we got home that I saw a shadow of the old Mom. She stopped in the doorway and gave our home a long looking over, peering into the kitchen. Dad and I had cleaned up to what we thought was appropriate, but Mom laughed and said, "You poor boys -- you've been bachelors far too long. Tomorrow, I'll start getting this place shipshape!"

I protested, saying, "Mom -- you should just take it easy. Besides, Dad and I already cleaned."

Mom laughed again and gave me another of her long, intimate hugs and proceeded to point out the layers of dust on the ceiling fan, cobwebs in the corners and the dust bunnies under the sofa. Dad reiterated that she needed to take it easy and that while I was cleaning house tomorrow, he would be taking her shopping for some new clothes.

Mom blushed and looked down, her face growing red as she nodded and said, "Well, maybe just a few things. I'll start working on getting back into shape as soon as I can." She ran her hands up and down her body slowly, caressing and lifting up her breasts before letting them fall and bounce with startling effect before saying, "Although I bet at least one of you must appreciate my bigger boobs!"

It took Mom a few seconds to realize that she'd shocked Dad and me. Mom and Dad had had been pretty religious and conservative -- breasts pretty much fell under the subject of sexual things that were not discussed in our house.She reddened further as she realized what she'd said and in a whisper full of fear and embarrassment, said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." She rushed upstairs towards her and Dad's bedroom -- him tossing me a concerned glance before following her up.

I didn't see Mom until the next morning when I awoke to the unmistakable smell of her special waffles and omelets. I crawled out of bed, quickly dressed and headed downstairs, meeting Dad in the upstairs hallway. We shared a rare smile and he said, "It's good to have your mother home!" I nodded, feeling normal for the first time in what seemed like forever.

That feeling lasted until we walked into the kitchen. I stopped so abruptly, Dad ran into me, shoving me forward, before grinding to a halt himself as we stared at Mom. She was standing at the stove, working on the last omelet, wearing one of my old T-shirts and maybe nothing else. It hung down to about mid-thigh, showing off more of my Mom's legs than I think I'd ever seen. Her thighs were a bit thick, but still her legs were shapely -- very much a woman's, and seemed very long. The T-shirt covered her ass, but more or less highlighted its shapeliness rather than conceal her lovely butt. All this and so sign of a panty line!

She turned at our noise and I thought my eyes would pop out of my head as the cotton shirt was molded to her breasts, highlighting their pear-like shape -- full and ripe and sagging slightly, the size and thickness of her nipples clearly indicated. She had her hair pulled back in a pony-tail, which despite the graying of her hair, gave her the appearance of someone much younger.

"Good morning, my darlings," Mom said gaily -- her smile dazzling. She sat the last plate of food on the kitchen table and then with her arms wide open, inadvertently making the T-shirt pull tauter across her breasts and raising the shirt's hemline to almost crotch level, said, "Come and get it!"

I felt my cock twitch and my pulse quicken as blood began to engorge my cock. I heard Dad cough behind me and then shove me forward, "Have a seat, John."

I gladly obeyed, happy to have my sudden reaction to Mom's appearance hidden from view. I glanced at my father and his face was a study of struggling emotions -- his unhappiness mostly dominating. You have to understand -- my folks were REALLY conservative and REALLY religious. I had never seen Mom in anything that wouldn't be considered mildly prudish. Her nightgowns were the old flannel granny variety and even then, she'd have worn a housecoat over them whenever she had ventured out of her bedroom! Bathing was a locked door affair and I could probably count on the fingers of one hand how many times I'd seen my parents show affection to each other in public.

Mom's cooking hadn't changed though and proved a bit of a distraction, although I caught myself making furtive glances at Mom and her well displayed chest throughout the meal. Dad glowered the whole time and finally said, "Well -- I reckon we need to get you to the mall and get some new clothes."

Mom blushed and nodded. "I'm sorry -- nothing fits. Thankfully, I found one of John's old T-shirts in your dresser otherwise I guess I'd have to go around in my birthday suit." She giggled and winked at me while Dad frowned.

When we finished breakfast, Dad urged Mom to go upstairs and find something to wear while they went shopping. After she disappeared, both of us watching her swaying butt exit from the room, I asked, "Is Mom alright, Dad?"

Dad nodded and said, "Sure -- she's just a bit out of sorts. Give her a day or two and she'll be fine." He glared at me and said, "In the meantime, keep those eyes in your head -- that's your mother, John."

It was my turn to blush with embarrassment and I shrugged my shoulders. "I didn't mean to stare...it was, just, I never would've pictured Mom dressing like that."

Dad got up and moved towards the door. "Don't be picturing your mother like that at all. She's just been through...a lot."

"Maybe those doctors were right. Maybe she should talk to one of those counselors or maybe a shrink."

Dad spun around and shook a finger at me. "You just shut up about that stuff. All Cassie needs is to get her bearings and she'll snap out of it. You hear me, boy?'

I nodded and he left after giving me a list of chores to get finished, but I felt very uneasy about Mom. Something was different and I didn't think simply being back in the bosom of her family was going to make that much difference. And as it was, I was right. Things went downhill fast.

That much was evident the moment she returned from her shopping trip...Dad's face screwed up in muted frustration and anger. Instead of buying her old conservative style of clothing, Mom now began dressing much more up to date...even sexy. Her new clothes included shorts, halter tops, dresses with hemlines well above the knee, all which emphasized her exaggerated with new weight figure. Within a few days, I got glimpses of Mom's ample breasts like I hadn't seen since I was nursing (not that I would have remembered), her stomach -- not so much flabby as rounded in a way I found arousing, and her attractive legs. She bought new bras, but around the house, didn't bother with them.

Mom had her hair done, surprising us by not reverting to her old pixie cut, but keeping it long and while dyeing some of it back to black, keeping some of the grey streaks in because as she put it, "I think it looks pretty."

Myself, I thought it looked sexy as hell, but kept my thoughts to myself. That was a wise thing because my thoughts were filled with impure notions about my mother. After a day of Mom bouncing around the house in denim shorts and a blue halter top that left a considerable amount of breast flesh exposed, for the first time in my life, I jacked off to fantasies of my mother before falling asleep. I felt both aroused and guilty -- stunned by the intensity of the feelings Mom was provoking in me unlike any woman or girl had done before.

I don't know if Mom sensed it, but it seemed to me as if there was some kind of sexual tension building between us. My formerly conservative and reserved mother was now flirty and affectionate, rarely passing up an opportunity to offer me a hug or a kiss on the cheek or the corner of my mouth, giving me those glances that seemed to say so much in themselves and that of themselves seemed to be so naughty.

Tensions were also building between Mom and Dad. I didn't understand it at first, just sensing that Dad was continuing to hold himself apart. I knew he was unhappy with her new style of dressing, fussing that even her dresses for church were too provocative, let alone what Mom wore around me. His fussing whispers became a common occurrence.

It became clearer when a few weeks after Mom's return, I returned home late from a date and as I crept up the stairs, I could hear Mom crying behind their bedroom door. I paused at the top of the stairs and their raised voices were clearly audible.

"But, I need you, Joseph! All I want is for you to make love to me!" Mom's voice was stricken, filled with need and heartache. "It's been so long!"

"I -- I want that too, Cassie, but its not right yet. We need...you need some time."

"I don't want to wait anymore. Am I that ugly, sweetheart? Am I that repulsive to you?"

There was silence for way too long before Dad responded. "You need more time, Cassie -- that's all. You're not yourself yet." I heard movement and hustled off to my room, barely getting inside and the door closed before Dad came out of their room. Things were definitely off and as the next few weeks passed by, I overheard variations on that argument several times. Dad was rejecting Mom's almost desperate overtures for sex. It seemed Mom was becoming more flirtatious with me as Dad kept her at arm's length and her dress got more scandalous as well. My fantasies regarding Mom began to expand as well with me stepping into Dad's role as lover.

Then the shit hit the proverbial fan. I came home from school to find Dad raging at Mom, her in tears. I walked into the living room to find Mom sitting on the couch, her head in her hands, sobbing violently, my concern over her almost distracted by the fact that she was wearing a filmy negligee and nothing else. Dad's face was crimson with anger and when he saw me, he just shook his head and continued yelling, "I can't believe you'd do such a thing -- to me and to our son!" He pointed at me as his voice reached an almost hysterical tone. "We hoped and prayed for your return for three years! Your son never gave up and this is how you repay our love!"

"What's wrong," I said, not understanding. "What happened?"

Dad stared at me, the anger now struggling with frustration and pain. "What's happened? Let me tell you..."

"Please don't, Joseph -- I'm ashamed enough as it is!" Mom said, interrupting him in a pleading voice.

"I came home early to find your mother fucking some stranger she picked up at the grocery store!"

"I'm sorry, " Mom sobbed, hanging her head in embarrassment. "I just needed to feel...I needed someone to make love to me!" Mom smeared tears across her face and stammered, "I just need -- needed -- needed..." My mother couldn't finish and put her face back into her hands and began crying almost hysterically.

That was the beginning of the end of all our hopes and dreams resuming their natural course. Even young and inexperienced, I knew that Mom was off kilter and that Dad wasn't being any help. He'd been raised to turn it all over to God and that through prayer alone, Mom could be healed.

Maybe it was because I was eighteen and the world seemed a lot simpler to me. I looked at it as Mom needed Dad's comfort and love, both emotionally and physically and for whatever reason, he was withholding both. Whatever had been done to her during her captivity now repulsed him whenever Mom sought out sex and unlike before her abduction, Mom now craved sex. If Dad wouldn't oblige -- then Mom sought it out on her on.

That was the first and only time Mom brought a man home, but Dad soon caught her sleeping around elsewhere and the stories began to spread about Cassie Hunter spreading her legs for anything with a hard cock. He caught her twice at local motels and once behind a local tavern giving a man a blowjob in her minivan. The fights were awful and Mom begged for understanding, but Dad grew colder and angrier with each incident.

They mostly followed a pattern. After being caught, Mom would try and behave, but then I would hear Mom pleading to Dad to make love to her for a few nights in a row and Dad refusing. Mom's appearance would accelerate towards the risqué, even sluttish and Mom would be increasingly flirty with me. I would walk around with a near constant erection as I would see Mom prowling around the house in short skirts and tight blouses or scanty nightclothes, somehow always finding reasons to rub up against me or hug me, acting more like a cat in heat than my mother. Then Dad would catch her fucking someone or all too often, more than one.

In desperation, I went around to some of the cheaper motels and explained the situation with Mom and got agreements from them to call me if Mom surfaced at their businesses. My boss, Tony Giatano carried some weight in town and helped convince a few to agree, feeling bad for me and my family. Three times I had tried to intervene for Mom's sake, trying to avoid another row between her and Dad, but he always seemed to find out.

After the episode at the Stay-Eez, I kept nagging Dad until he finally agreed to seek help for Mom. We went to Reverend Simmons at our church and after making several calls, he gave us a reference for a Doctor Deschane -- a psychiatrist specializing in sexual disorders. Mom seemed visibly relieved that she would now get a chance at counseling, knowing that things were out of control but seemingly unable to do anything about it.

Mom began seeing Doctor Deschane twice a week and for a month, things got much better -- Mom didn't stray, although her behavior at home around me continued to be somewhat improper...her outfits offering me glimpses of her lovely body and the little hugs and caresses and kisses continued whenever Dad was at work or in another room. There were times Mom seemed to simply smolder -- her eyes on me with such a fiery intensity I thought she might spontaneously combust -- those moments often coming on the heels of her therapy sessions.

Finally, Mom came home with a request from her doctor -- informing us that Doctor Deschane wanted us to begin attending additional sessions with Mom to help her with her therapy. Dad was reluctant -- with his barely achieved high school education, he didn't trust shrinks, preferring to place his faith in God alone, but I insisted and so we both steeled ourselves to finally confront Mom's demons.

We were ushered into the inner office of Doctor Deschane, my interest in what a "shrink's" office looked like dissipating as Doctor Deschane rose from a large, wing-backed leather chair to greet us. She was maybe a little younger than Mom and slender and statuesque, brilliant auburn hair done up in a bun with a silver pin stuck through it and wearing cat's eye glasses that did nothing to detract from her emerald eyes. Though slender, her breasts seemed to be large and pert with just a hint of décolletage under a blue silk blouse with just enough buttons undone. A tailored skirt rose high above her knees and I was suddenly looking forward to seeing her sit down.

My cock which had been constantly hard from Mom's attention suddenly found a new source of inspiration. Dad was struck near mute as he retreated from the frank sexuality of the doctor. Introductions were made quickly and I felt my cock swell in my slacks and my face flame with embarrassment as Doctor Deschane took my hand and gently shook it, her eyes scrutinizing me as she did so. She beckoned us to take seats on either side of Mom who looked at Doctor Deschane as if she was a holy woman about to confer a blessing.

The Doctor gave us a moment to get settled and then sat herself. I was not disappointed as she settled into her leather chair, her short skirt rising slightly to reveal tanned and toned thighs. Then oddly, she turned her head slightly and addressed me. "John, in trying to help your mother -- to allow her to help herself, it's been vitally important for her to confront what happened to her. I think for you and your father to understand what's happened to Cassie and how these experiences have changed her and how you can help her get control over her life, she needs to share these experiences with you as well. Does that make sense?"

I nodded slowly. "Sure," I replied. "I'll do anything to help Mom."

Doctor Deschane smiled and said, "This will not be easy -- for either you or your father. It will be graphic and I suspect shocking, but I think it's essential to your mother's recovery for you to truly comprehend what has happened to her and how she has changed."

"I don't see how it's essential for our son to hear all this," Dad said, the whine and discomfort thick in his voice.

"He and you, Mr. Hunter are Cassie's support system. I've discussed this with Cassie at length and she agrees that while this will be...difficult to hear, it is important to understand what she's gone through." Dad scowled at the psychiatrist but didn't argue further. Doctor Deschane turned in her chair to study Mom who was sitting upright in another huge leather chair, clearly nervous. "Cassie, would you like to begin?"

Mom took a deep breath and nodded, her hands tugging and fretting with the handkerchief in her hands. Not looking at us, she took another deep breath and said, "I don't remember being taken by Darren...er, Jones. I was loading groceries into the car and the next thing I knew..." Mom paused and took another deep breath. "I was in total darkness and could hardly breathe -- there was something, a mask on my face and I couldn't see and I was c-cumming my brains out." Mom flicked her eyes my way, her face reddening. "I was having an orgasm because someone -- Darren had shoved a vibrator into my vagina and taped it in place." Mom's red face darkened. "I was so naïve I didn't even know what was in me.

"I don't know how long I'd been awake or how long I lay there and orgasmed. It just kept going on and on. Maybe hours, so much that cumming hurt. I passed out again and when I came to, I was in a room, on a bed, naked and he was there...Darren and he was naked and hard and he had a knife...a big knife with jagged edges. He ordered me to get on my hands and knees like a good whore bitch and I was so scared and I did it and he fucked me. He fucked me really hard -- it hurt and the whole time he was running that knife up and down my back and underneath on my breasts -- using the tip, but never cutting me."

Mom paused and wiped her eyes. "Did you have an orgasm the first time with him, Cassie?" the doctor asked softly.

Mom shook her head and replied, "No -- I think I came close though. My -- my pussy was so sensitive still from that vibrator and he was big and even though it was painful, there was...is something...stimulating about being so close to death. By the time Darren came inside me, I was...aroused, I guess and scared I was going to die.

"Afterwards, he made me suck him clean while he told me his rules." Mom stopped again and looked at Doctor Deschanes who nodded for her to continue. "Darren said I was his sex bitch and that I was to do whatever he asked the moment he asked or he'd kill me. He told me he'd done this before. He said my old life was over and that every breath I took from then on depended on my ability to pleasure him.

"Afterwards, he fed me and left, locking me in my room. He left me a water jug, some food and a chamber pot. He didn't come back for three days but then he fucked me again and again and again. He made me suck him off and eat his cum and then he came on my face.

"Darren left me fresh supplies and I didn't see him again for I think seven days -- maybe longer. I had a light in the room, but no clock to measure time with. At times it seemed like I was alone nearly forever!" A sob escaped Mom's lips. "I was so lonely and scared. I prayed just to hear a voice. When he came back, I was actually glad to see him!" Mom looked up and tried to smile at Dad and me. "I'm sorry -- I know that sounds terrible, but I was so alone!"

"It's okay, Mom," I whispered hoarsely. "I wish we could have found you."

Mom smiled at me and said, "Me too -- I used to daydream about it for hours on in -- you and your father rescuing me." Mom paused as if recollecting where she left off. "So, Darren finally came back and I was so happy to see him...to see anyone at that point. He fucked me constantly for days afterwards, whenever he could get it up which was a lot. I think he was taking drugs to help himself with that.

"Sometimes he was brutal with me, taking me hard and forcefully -- raping me practically and other times he was gentle, almost sweet, treating me more like a girlfriend...or," Mom's voice broke, "...like a wife."

"What was he doing the first time he made you orgasm, Cassie?" the doctor asked.

Mom didn't answer for a moment. "He made me cum with his cock the first time he fucked me after all those days I was alone. Darren got on top of me and I was scared, but so happy that there was someone to see and talk to and to touch and his cock was so hard and big and he just rammed it in me and it hurt a lot, but even as rough as he was being, I felt my orgasm start early and I came and came long before he shot his wad in me." Mom began to breathe a little faster and through her dress, I could see her nipples harden as she recalled the event. "I actually thanked him for making me cum. He just laughed and said he knew I was a slut at heart since the moment he first laid eyes on me."

"You thanked a man who'd kidnapped you and proceeded to Ra*e you repeatedly and knowing this, you were aroused by him enough to orgasm during intercourse?" Doctor Deschane gave me several sidelong glances and said, "Why do you think that happened?"

Mom shrugged. "I don't know. Like I keep saying, I was scared and lonely and homesick and just being with someone felt so good. He was always saying he'd get around to killing me sooner or later, but just having contact with another human being felt so damn good."

The psychiatrist leaned forward and prodded her, "And? Don't leave anything out."

Mom and Doctor Deschane stared at each other for a moment and finally Mom nodded and looked at Dad and me. "I have to be honest. As soon as I had cummed that first time with the vibrator -- it was unlike anything I'd known before. I can't explain it, but I wanted more." She looked directly at me and said, "It was something I wasn't all that familiar with -- your father was the only one I'd ever been with before and while I had always enjoyed the sex, I reckon I'd never really orgasmed like that before -- not from being fucked anyway."

Mom looked away and then back at me. She slowly licked her lips and seemed to squirm a little as if she couldn't get quite comfortable. "I begged him to fuck me and make me cum again." Mom paused and a queer smile fluttered across her lips. "And Darren did. He fucked me and fucked me and made me cum over and over again."

A little moan escaped Mom's lips as a shiver ran over her body, raising gooseflesh and making her nipples swell underneath her dress. "I was like a crack addict, only my drug was sex and Darren was my dealer and he kept me happy and well fucked. I never knew that fucking was so, so..." Mom's voice took on a dreamy quality as she finished with, "Wonderful! And Darren taught me that there was so much more to it than I ever imagined.

"The first couple of months it was just straight sex -- oh, Darren taught me to appreciate getting fucked up the ass as well and to be a good cocksucker and to appreciate the taste of a man's seed, but then he taught me so much more."

I glanced over at my father who was looking down at the carpet, his jaw muscles clenched and his face a bright red. He looked angrier than I could ever remember -- even worse than when he'd first caught Mom cheating on him.

Mom paused, one hand slowly running up her blouse to cup and squeeze her breast, I'm not even sure she was aware she was doing it. "One day, he brought in a steel A-Frame with chains and clamps and things." Mom shivered. "He hung chains with clamps attached and suspended me by my nipples and I had to almost stand on tip-toe to keep them from hurting too much even though they did hurt like hell, but even then..." Mom's face became almost vacant and her fingers fluttered across one nipple hard and erect against her dress as she continued. "Even then, there was always pleasure along with the pain."

Mom closed her eyes and I imagined she was seeing it in her mind and she continued to squirm as she spoke. "Other times, Darren liked to attach chains with clamps to both my nipples and my labia -- chains that were too short if I stood up erect -- pulling and pinching unless I could raise my legs off the ground -- otherwise, sweet pain and pleasure together. I would cum and cry and want it to stop and never stop at the same time till I thought I was going insane.

"Darren would manacle me to the A-Frame, hanging spread-eagled in the air for hours at a time, my arms screaming with pain and when I thought I would simply die from the agony, he'd pull up a chair in front of me and bury his face in my pussy and make me go nuts from the pleasure until I thought I would simply die from the ecstasy. He had a tongue like a snake and he would eat me for hours on end."

Mom's eyes snapped open and she looked at me in such a way that made me squirm in my chair. "That was something else I'd never experienced. I was taught that a man putting his face in your pussy was nasty and sinful." She shivered again. "I just don't understand how something so...so delightful could be called a sin." Licking her lips, Mom added, "Afterwards, he'd kiss me -- let me taste myself." Mom dropped her gaze back down to her lap, unable to continue to look at me. "I loved that too -- how I tasted."​