Misc. Erotica Sinful Seduction

I sat in the parking lot, having driven past the valet for the first time in my life, hands trembling on the steering wheel. With a final look in the visor mirror to make sure my makeup and hair were good, I climbed out and lit a smoke. Standing there in the back of the parking lot, enjoying the long calming drags.

One of the kitchen staff was hauling a bag of trash to the dumpsters, and caught me out of the corner of his eye and nearly tripped. That brought a smile to my lips as I inhaled another drag. Not yet halfway through, I flicked out the burning end and walked over and tossed it in the dumpster giving the cooks a wink before striding into the dining room as if I owned the place.

Alice was seated in a prime location, outlined against the setting sun with the ocean off in the far distance, rolling green fields, and the picturesque course stretching below. She leaned back and waved me over. Her full mouth grinning, pale blues eyes dancing with merriment as always. The woman never ceased to amaze me at the perfection of her quaffed hair and clothing. She was always at the front end of fashion trends, and it was either effortless on her part, or she had the most amazing stylists. She’d spent enough money on surgeries over the years that she should have looked like a barbie doll, but it was all tasteful, and I have to admit I’ve always been jealous of the perfect shape and form of her fake breasts.

“Dahling, come take a seat,” she waved a hand at the table where a bottle of white wine sat, beading with condensation, fresh from the chiller, and a large platter of oysters, cheeses, jams and breads lay. Along with a tray carrying all the condiments commonly paired with oysters.

“Looks divine,” I said with a sigh, as I sat down and plucked an oyster off the tray, hitting it with a bit of garlic and hot sauce before slurping it down, “And tastes even better. You spoil me.”

“Well, you keep spoiling me, and I’ll make sure you get only the finest,” I glanced up at her tone, reminded of her earlier confession. Her gaze was alive with interest, but she gave a slight shake of her head, “We will be certain never to mention that while in public, or even most private places. Not while The Director is in control, you understand… I wouldn’t want to influence his work.”

“Certainly not,” I said, realizing my voice was a touch breathless and poured myself a glass of wine, “Were you thinking of the Wellington? Or are we going salad and salmon tonight like always?”

“You know me so well, dahling!” Alice said so loudly, the whole dining room glanced over, but only for a second when she flashed around her Cheshire Cat grin and predatory gaze.

The rest of the evening passed in witty chatter and ribald jokes. The latter mostly told by Alice, and to the young wait staff. We drank and feasted and eventually had to call UBER for rides home. Those final hours were a bit of a blur, but I remember Alice giving me a fierce hug before she trundled off to her ride, whispering something in my ear that I couldn’t quite remember the next morning.

I woke in my bed, late in the morning and with one arm and leg hanging out of it. My head was pounding, and when I moved, there was a queasiness in my gut that I never remember having when I was hungover before. Feeling as though every step was going to make me puke, I made it to the bathroom and got a glass of water. Then I crawled back under the covers, swearing to myself I would never drink that much again.

I spent that whole Saturday morning and early afternoon sleeping on and off. In between naps, I was trying to get back to sleep to ignore the hell of my hangover. Finally feeling somewhat human again, I dragged myself downstairs to the kitchen and made myself some greasy sausages and scrambled eggs, forcing it down.

Mark was gone for the day, and I began to grow curious where he was. Just as I finished cleaning up the kitchen, a message came through from the app. Heart racing once more, I opened it up.

Instructions: go to your son’s room and review his search history.

I had no idea when Mark might be home, so I hurried upstairs, eager to have the task over with. I stepped into his room and was hit with a wave of musk and sour clothes smell. The hamper was full to overflowing, and I made a note to drag it down to the laundry. Mark was supposed to do his own laundry, but I always had to pester the boy.

I pulled out his computer chair. I settled into it a little delicately. It was a great big bulky thing that must have weighed a hundred pounds, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Reaching over to move the mouse, I half hoped the computer would require a password, and I wouldn’t be able to get it, but surprisingly the screen flickered to life, and I saw the cluttered Windows desktop covered in files and shortcuts. There was a program running that had a little window tracking its progress. It was compiling something, whatever that was.

Licking my lips nervously, I glanced around quickly, fearful someone might catch me any moment. I found the shortcut to his browser and opened it up. The homepage was some gaming website that I ignored and discovered his history. The butterflies were back, dancing in my stomach as I scrolled through the list of sites.

One site dominated the list, clearly a pornography site. With dozens of entries that linked to different videos. Curious and more than a little excited, I clicked on the last one he watched. The moment I did, another message came through on my phone. I opened the app with some trepidation, hoping and fearing the same thing.

Instructions: masturbate to the video… better hurry Mark is driving home now.

I reread the message, feeling anxiety crawl up my spine at the same time my legs spread, and I settled myself in the chair. Biting my bottom lip, I focused on the video and pushed my yoga pants and panties down, feeling the cool leather against the skin of my butt and thighs.

The video started out with the woman, an actress named Lisa Ann, and a younger, smaller man in their living room. The woman was clearly the young man’s stepmom from the title of the video. The fantasy progressed unnaturally fast, as porn’s are wont to do, and in minutes the woman was on her knees, large breasts out as she sucked the young man’s giant cock with fast unrealistic movements.

The actress looked startlingly like me. She was shorter and a touch wider in the hips and thigh, but the rest was surprisingly similar. I felt a measure of pride at coming by my incredible curves naturally, but I’d never slight a woman for surgeries. Whatever you can do to feel beautiful is okay in my book. The young man didn’t look like Mark except for his cock, which was a touch smaller, if I had to guess, but seemed nearly identical in its smooth beauty.

The first contact of my fingers to my aching sex sent me off with a hard, fast orgasm, I’d been so keyed up for days it felt like. I wasn’t stopping there, even with Mark on his way home, there was no way I could stop at just one. Staring at that gorgeous cock, my mind filling with images of Mark’s manhood and the burning intensity of his eyes the night before, I came again, more powerfully this time. But the need was still in me, whimpering I rubbed myself all the harder, adding my other hand in as I slipped two fingers into myself, curling them around to rub on my g-spot.

“Oh, fuck!” I moaned, while on the screen the actress straddled her son and began to ride his massive erection, I stretched my fingers wide, spreading my pussy as if my son’s girth were invading me. “I’m cumming… cumming for you, Mark… oh, Fuck!!!!”

My whole body locked up as the orgasm hit, curling around my quivering sex; it took long seconds to catch my breath. As I came back to myself, a wave of shock ran through me at what I’d just done. Standing on shaky legs, I pulled up my pants and pulled a dirty shirt out of the hamper and wiped the chair down the best I could.

As I was closing down his browser, I heard the squeal of brakes outside and knew that was Mark’s car. Panicking slightly, I grabbed the hamper and dragged it downstairs. I was halfway down when Mark walked in. I looked up and smiled at him, fearing he could see the guilt written plain on my face.

“Welcome home,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the catch in my voice.

“Thanks… I was going to get to that,” Mark said with a nervous look at the laundry, “Here I’ll take it and get it started.”

“Nonsense,” I said, “I got it. Go play your games and relax, it’s the weekend.”

“Really,” he said, a touch wild around the eyes, as he climbed the stairs and tried to take the hamper, “I’ll do it, don’t worry.”

“Mark let go, I got it,” his insistence of doing the laundry was unlike him, and I began to grow suspicious. That’s when I noticed his hand snatch something from deep in the hamper, something white and lacy and stuff them in his pocket. “What’s that?”

“Nothing!” He said quickly and tried to turn up the stairs, but in the narrow confines, it only pushed him closer to me.

Reaching out, I snatched out what he’d stuffed into his back pocket. Hanging from my fingers between our faces were a pair of my used white panties. I glanced from the panties to Mark and saw his face go white as a sheet, then green and sickly. He tried to mumble something, but nothing came out, and I saw shame fill his face. I opened my mouth, having no idea what I was going to say, but before I could say anything, Mark turned and dashed up the stairs, then slammed and locked his bedroom door behind him.

My chest was heaving I realized, and I licked my lips, unsure of what to do. Continuing downstairs with the hamper, I lifted the panties up and saw a large white stain coating them. My sex grew damp and ached when I realized the incredible amount of cum he’d covered them in. I’d always loved to watch men shoot their stuff, and the bigger the load, the better. I’d never witnessed anything nearly as substantial as the remains left on my panties.

Once in the laundry room, I lifted the garment and inhaled the musky scent. I’d pressed a hand between my legs unconsciously, and when I realized it, threw the panties in the washer, pushing away the desire and shame.

While the laundry ran, I sank to the floor and rested my head in my hands. My mind was a jumble of conflicting desires and fears. Like a leaf on the breeze, all I could do is let The Director carry me along on his plan and pray everything worked out. Another notification came through, and I opened it up with more excitement than I thought prudent.

Instructions: you will confront your son this evening about the panties. Push him to reveal his true feelings. Help him ‘get over’ his obsession by seeing you in just the panties.

Bonus instructions: allow him to masturbate as you model for him.

Standing, I felt the conflict within myself fade. My course was set by the instructions, and I began to plan for how I would broach it with Mark while not embarrassing him or making it awkward. Grabbing a coat, I ran out to grab some takeout and a few things from the store. Never once pausing to consider not following the instructions.​