Misc. Erotica Sinful Seduction

In a half daze, I pulled on a robe, still trying to digest the experience when the email notification sounded. In it were the contract and a terms sheet. I put on a pot of water and printed out the documents. Then curling up on the couch with a cup of tea, I got to reading.

The contract was boilerplate, although there were a few passages that were denser than I could comprehend. From what I read, it looked as though I was signing away rights to video shot in my house for a period of up to several weeks. There would be instructions delivered, and I was supposed to carry them out within 24 hours or be penalized a dollar amount. If I failed more than once, the contract would be void.

What precisely the instructions would be were never explicitly stated, but my heart began to race as I thought about possibilities. One clue I got was that in the contract, it said that anyone viewed on the cameras who hadn’t signed the release would have their faces blurred and last names bleeped, but that no other body part would be masked.

I had just pulled out the terms sheet when Mark got home. I glanced up when the door opened, but he didn’t notice me in the dark corner of the living room. Feeling extremely shy, I hunched down into the couch.

Mark’s expression relaxed when he saw he was alone and pulled a thick magazine out of his jacket, where he’d been hiding it and went into the kitchen. I heard him open the fridge, pour himself a glass of juice, and grab a box of breakfast bars, then he raced upstairs, failing to notice me, with an eager grin on his face.

When he passed beneath the hall light, I saw the cover and realized it was one of his Japanese comic books. He was gone before I could get a better look at it; feet pounding down the hall and then into his bedroom. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, when I realized he hadn’t shut and locked his bedroom door.

Pulling up the terms sheet, I tried not to think about what might be going on above my head. I’d always known Mark took care of himself up there. Any mother of a teenage boy has seen him disappear for hours at a time, only to emerge smelling of musk and looking glassy-eyed. At first, it was amusing, then it became annoying; finally, I grew at peace with it. Now the thought sent an uncomfortable feeling into my gut.

As much as I tried to ignore the fact, the contract in my hands had changed everything. Could I really do this? With my stepson? The thought was not as repellant as it perhaps should have been. It had been many years since I’d last had intimate relations with his father, and that awkward with his affliction. I never cheated over the years, honoring my commitment. I’d assumed I was becoming a-sexual, but now I imagined what it would be like to be touched again, and I found myself wanting it.

Setting my laptop aside, I slipped off the couch and crept upstairs. As I walked up the carpeted steps, I wondered what the hell I was doing, but my feet kept propelling me forward. Some madness had taken over me, a storm of grief, stress, and awakening desire that had lit a burning curiosity within me.

I stayed back against the far wall of the hallway, in the deeper shadows, as I made my way past my room and to Marks. The door was indeed propped open, probably so he could get a better warning when I came home. He lay on his bed, angled away from the door, beneath the window, and my breath caught when I saw what he was doing.

He held his comic book propped open on his chest, biting his bottom lip as he turned pages. The standing book blocked my sight of what he was doing with the other hand, but from the motions of his arm and the way he lay, it was apparent.

It was not lust that overwhelmed me and brought me to such reckless actions, not the awakened desire that coursed through me, it was curiosity. Something seemed off about the scene before me, the more I watched it. It took me several seconds to figure out that the motion of Mark's arm seemed off. When I realized it was traveling a longer distance than seemed possible, a small gasp escaped my throat.

Mark startled at the sound and looked around, glancing out into the hall. My blood froze for one dreadful moment as his eyes swept over me, but he didn’t notice me in the dark. I nearly gave another disbelieving sound, for as he turned, he dropped the comic, and I was able to see the monster cradled in this hand.

I’d seen penises as big in pornos, and heard friends describe men hung like horses, but I’d never encountered one in the wild myself. The sight shattered the shame I felt at what I was doing, and the fear of nearly being caught. My eyes drank it in, trying to memorize every detail before he shifted back, comic hiding the amazing appendage once more.

Unwilling to chance my luck and not trusting myself to not say or do something that might ruin everything, I slipped back downstairs in even more of a daze than I’d climbed them. When I saw the pile of paperwork on the couch, shame hit me like a physical force, and I realized what I’d just done.

Disgusted with myself, I grabbed up the contract and terms sheet and slipped out of the house. I had to clear my head and going for a long drive always helps me with that. Ten minutes later, I was barreling down the freeway with the pop music station blaring, trying to drown out the thoughts and images swirling around in my head.

Driving north, I found myself taking familiar roads out into the countryside, winding on storybook lanes through vineyards and maple tree tunnels. I got to a winery I’d once gone to a tasting at with Alice. It was closed for the evening, but the parking lot was open and empty, with a stunning view of the surrounding vineyards and forest.

Digging my secret pack of cigarettes out of the center console, I stepped outside to light a smoke. My hands were shaking as I struck the lighter, and on that first deep drag, I felt my shoulder relax, muscles unknotting. Drawing in the smoke and breathing out my anxiety, I let the nicotine calm my nerves.

Feeling better and a little light-headed, I climbed back into the car and pulled over the paperwork once more. Flipping through it idly, I found the terms sheet and read through it for the first time. The numbers I saw didn’t seem real, and I had to double-check how many zeros were at the end of them a couple times before it sank in.

They were offering a flat rate for the installation of their equipment and signing away the rights to film our household all day. There was a bonus incentive structure that encompassed several things but was given obliquely named and labeled. Each set of instructions would have an accompanying monetary reward. Those rewards would scale up over time, increasing by exponential amounts that made my palms sweat to see.

Bonuses were rewarded for several factors, calculated as a percentage of the instructions reward. One of the bonuses was for performance, and another was for appearance. The latter basically said that if I maintained my appearance with workout, diet, makeup, etc. I could earn more. There were others noted down, but the language was so oblique it was hard to know precisely what they would be paid out for.

Licking my lips, I set the sheet aside and thought once more of the home and neighborhood I’d come to love so much. The massive numbers were swirling around in my head, and I got out once more and lit up a smoke, rarely having two in a session. I was still struggling internally with the decision. A quick calculation told me that even without a single bonus, after two months of working for The Director and his shadowy group, I would be set for the rest of my life, Mark would have a home throughout college, insurance, and all the rest.

Climbing back in, I pulled a pen out of the glove box and signed the contract right there. I felt strangely empty as I drove back home, hands a little shaky as I thought about the quest I was embarking on.

Everything really had changed once that contract came through, and, at least in my mind, things could never go back to how they were. The thoughts were in my skull now, and no amount of ignoring them, or running from them, was helping.

The shaking in my hands calmed down as I sent the email back to The Director with the contract signed and attached. Things were in motion now, and I realized I had no desire to stop them. Like a model, giving herself over to a fashion designer, I was committed to the process now.

Crawling beneath the covers, I struggled to fall asleep. Finally, slipping a hand between my legs, I placed a gentle finger against my hard, little clit and, in just a few seconds, shuddered in relief as pleasure rushed through my body. In the final second, as my climax crashed down on me, my mind's eye filled with an image of my stepson’s gorgeous cock.

Ignoring the small spike of shame, I let the warm covers drag me down into a restless slumber. My dreams plagued with images of my young stepson but superimposed on the types of commanding men who have always attracted me. Men who knew what they wanted and took it.

The next morning, I was up with the dawn, yoga mat out and getting in an early stretch. Nothing centers me like a good fifteen to twenty minutes doing yoga. Well, one thing focuses me more, but it hadn’t been in the cards for too long. Trying to ignore the lusty thoughts that kept creeping into my mind, I focused on my breathing and was startled when the doorbell rang, with the sun barely up.

I found a courier outside with several small elegantly wrapped black packages. After signing, I carried them in quickly, glancing around nervously to make sure no one saw me, even though I knew I was being silly. My heart was racing as I carried the first few up to my bedroom, needing to make two trips.

On the second trip, my son’s door swung open, and he stepped out, blinking owlishly in the hall light as he looked at me in annoyance.

“What’s all the racket out here? It’s like 6:30 in the morning.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling my cheek heat as my eyes bobbed down to see the outline of something large and hard pressing against his boxers. The sight caused me to stumble, and I had to drag my eyes away from it. Even semi-hard, he was enormous, and it looked almost obscene in his boxers.

“I ordered something online, and they just delivered it. I had no idea it would come so early.”

Suddenly looking self-conscious, Mark ducked his head and dipped back into his room, shutting the door behind himself quickly. He’d seen me staring at his manhood, and instead of feeling pride, he felt self-conscious. I tucked the observation away, not sure how to process it, and slipped into my bedroom.

The boxes proved a perfect distraction from the image of those tented boxers still bouncing around in my head. Opening one, I found it tightly packed with smaller boxes all the same size. Inside were cameras the size and shape of a thumbtack. Most of the boxes were cameras, dozens and dozens of the small devices. I marveled at the microtechnology and the smart application.

Finally, I opened a box that had an envelope with instructions and a large bulky cube packed in thick layers of foam to protect it. Opening the envelope, I found a letter and series of floorplans with locations marked out in dozens of places. Feeling a chill run down my spine, I realized the floor plans were for my house, detailed architectural drawings that even had rough outlines of where furniture should be placed in certain rooms.

Just rearranging the furniture would be a large amount of work I knew, but the list of instructions attached to the plans went on for several pages. Then I dealt with the large cube, a server or router, or some such. I was sure Mark would know what it was immediately, but I had no clue. The prospect of undertaking such a technical project terrified me, but it’s not like I could ask anyone for help.​