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Amnesia

By: fivendime



I awoke feeling completely relaxed and content. The bed was totally comfortable and inviting. But I knew I could not stay in bed all day. 'All good things must come to an end,' I thought, 'time to start the day'.

As I opened my eyes and looked around, the surroundings were not what I expected. It was quite obvious that I was in a hotel, but where? And more importantly, what was I doing here? I stumbled from the bed and made my way to the window. I Pulled the heavy drapes back and peered out at the very unmistakable site, many stories below. The puzzle of 'where' I was now solved. Now the question on my mind is, 'What the hell am I doing in Vegas?'

If I could just remember what happened last night, maybe all this would make sense. The harder I tried to remember the previous night, the more disturbing this all became. As unthinkable as it was, my memory was a complete blank. Not only did I not know why I was in Vegas, but I couldn't remember my name, or any of my past. 

A shower. Maybe a shower will clear the cobwebs of my mind. 

The hot water felt good, but did nothing to trigger any memories. Problem solving time. You don't get a hotel room, on one of the upper floors of the Luxor, without someone knowing your name. I must have some sort of I.D. in a wallet. That will at least give me a name and address to start piecing this all together. 

I finished my shower and stepped out of the shower. I put the thick hotel bath robe on then toweled my hair. Looking around the bathroom I was suddenly struck by the lack of personal items. No deodorant. No cologne. No hair brush or comb. Not even a tooth brush.

Exiting the bathroom I spotted my cloths on a near by chair. Slipping my hand into the pocket I pulled out the wallet. I was shocked to find it thick with a huge wad of cash. I quickly counted 25, $100 Dollar bills. What could I be doing with such a large sum of cash? The puzzle only got more puzzling as I could find no drivers license. For that matter I could not find any I.D. at all. No credit cards. No pictures. Not even a library card. The only clue the wallet held were the gold initials, MBC, on the wallet. I was no closer to knowing who I was or why I'm here than I was when I awoke. Digging through my other pants pockets, I found a total of 10, $500 casino chips from different casinos, and a key. In the drawer to the night stand was a pouch containing $25K

What the hell was I doing in Vegas with no I.D. and over $30K in cash? What is this key to? Just who the hell am I? These questions continued to gnaw at me.

The no identification thing was really starting to play on my mind. There are few reasons I could think of for a person to not carry some sort of identification. And none of them were good. It usually meant you were in hiding for some reason.

I quickly dressed, looked around for luggage and other personal affects. Nothing. This is getting old fast. I grabbed the room card key off the night stand and left the room.

Stepping from the elevator into the lobby I made my way to the front desk. Handing my card to the pretty girl behind the desk, her name tag told me her name was Carol. I waited for something in return. An invoice would be nice. The Carol just smiled at me and said, "Your all set, have a great day."

"Can I have a copy of the invoice please?"

"I'm sorry sir. But it's against hotel policy to give a copy to someone other than the person who registered. I'm sure you can understand."

Smiling I replied, "Well how can you be so sure I'm not the one who registered?"

Giggling, Carol said, "I'm sorry but you just don't look like a 'Candi' to me."

"I don't suppose you could give me Candi's last name."

"Sorry."

I thanked her for her time then walked out of the hotel.

All I had to piece this mystery together was this mystery girl by the name of Candi, in Vegas. Even if I assume the name wasn't fake, there are probably more Candi's in this town than any other city. 

I strolled down the strip, wondering aimlessly. Mainly because I had no clue where I should be or where I should go. After about an hour I decided to stop and have a much needed drink. Taking a stool at the bar in the Excalibur, I ordered a beer.

About 3/4th's of the way through my beer a stunning brunette took the stool next to me.

"You know your late. I thought you were going to stand me up." said this lovely vision.

After a quick glance around it became obvious that she was speaking to me. "I would never do something like that intentionally. I got tied up."

"Tied up huh. What interesting possibilities." she said giving me a sultry look. "Well it doesn't matter really. I have 5 hours of time, the later we start the later we finish. After all you wouldn't want to stiff me out of my time would you?"

"My dear lady, nothing could be further from my mind." And at that moment in time, that was the absolute truth. The prospects of spending some time with this woman was with out a doubt the best part of my day.

"Well then, come with me."

After settling my bar tab she wrapped her arm around mine and lead me to the elevators. She pushed the button for the seventh floor and waited for the doors to close before turning, reaching up and giving me the most passionate kiss I could recall (if I could remember another that is). The kiss lasted for the whole ride to the seventh floor. Things were certainly looking up.

Taking my hand she lead me to a door that she quickly opened with a key card. She walked into the room in front of me.

This woman was around 5' 4" tall and she couldn't weigh more than 100lbs. She was dressed in a black sleeveless gown that her full tits filled out nicely. Her body could have been that of a 28 year old. But a couple of very small tail-tell wrinkles, told me she was older, perhaps early 40's. Even so, this woman was gorgeous. Her shoulder length brunette hair perfectly framed her pretty face. She had dark brown eyes a man could loose himself in.

It suddenly struck me, I had no clue who she was or what I was doing here. She said we have some time together, but for what? With that kiss earlier, sex for money seemed likely. But how much does she charge? Wait a minute what if its me that is suppose to be paid? What if this has nothing to do with sex, after all we could be consulting on some real estate project. Well that would be disappointing! 

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to go change into something comfortable. Pour yourself a drink, I'll be right back out." She said as she stepped into the bathroom.

As I was pouring myself a glass of drambui over ice, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. I thought it odd that I really didn't take the time to look at myself before now.

I'm about 5foot 8, dark hair with a full beard and thick moustache. Brown eyes. Not exactly trim, but not obese either. If I had to guess my age I would say.... Hmm, face looks early 30's, but a few stray graying hairs in the beard, I'd say late 30's - early 40's.

My mind began to run again on what tonight my hold. While bedding this woman was high on my priority list, I couldn't help but wonder if it were something else. This woman could be expecting me to tutor her in Portuguese. Maybe we're a couple of con's that work as a team.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door opened and my companion returned. She was dressed in a light pink sweat suit. She strolled past me, went to the bar and poured herself a drink. After downing a fair amount, she turned to me and said, "Is this your first time with a gravity machine?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know." she said turning and pointing, "The gravity machine."

As I turned it was then I noticed the inversion table with the gravity boots. Quite a simple contraption really, all designed to hang someone upside down, by their ankles.

"I can't say as though I ever remember hanging from one before."

"Well then, allow me to demonstrate." And with that she walked past me and began to secure the gravity boots to her ankles. 

When she was comfortable with the fit and feel, she stepped up onto the inversion table and set her ankles in place. Leaning back and raising her hands over her head the table gently rolled over until she was hanging by only her ankles. This lovely upside down woman then proceeded to twist and turn.

"There is nothing like it to work out the kinks and knots."

I couldn't help but to stare and curse to myself that she had her top tucked into her pants. Even so I admired her wonderful tits as gravity now pulled them in the other direction.

After a couple minutes she righted herself an stepped from the table.

"Your turn!" 

While still on her knees after taking the boots from her ankles she started to put them on me. It wasn't long before I found myself hanging by my ankles.

"Twist around some and loosen your back. Let me grab something and I'll be right back."

I must admit it did feel good on the back. Is this what I'm here for? A demonstration of some sort. Am I suppose to buy this? Is she expecting me to sell these?

'CLICK....... CLICK'

My thoughts broken by the unmistakable sounds of hand cuffs being secured. While in my thoughts this woman used hand cuffs to lock the table upside down.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked more than a bit concerned.

"I want to make sure you relax completely." she said half giggling. "And when you mentioned being tied up earlier, it gave me a thought. Now since you can't do anything about it, you might as well relax and enjoy."

Without another word she pulled her top up over her head. Her tits out in the open were magnificent. They must have been 36C's. Her nipples were large, brown and very erect, much like my cock was getting. She then pulled her sweat pants down and off. There she stood wearing nothing but a pair of stockings and a garter belt.

"You like? When I thought about doing this I figured you would prefer it if I left these few things on."

"It's fine.... It's fantastic." I stammered.

Stepping to me she began undoing my belt and pants. I just started to reach up to her well trimmed pussy, when my shirt, now free of my pants fell all around my head. I couldn't see a damn thing. I quickly struggled to pull the damn thing off of me. Before I could get it off though I heard her say something that would etch itself into my brain.

"I've waited 20 years for this."

I was about to contemplate the 20 year comment when I was again brought back to the present.

In one exquisite motion she took my hard cock deep into her hot wet mouth. As she started to suck on me I could not help but moan out loud. 

I quickly shed the old shirt and looked up into her glistening pussy. What a wonderful sight to behold. She continued to suck my cock. Her tongue caressing the shaft then licking the mushroom head. One hand groping my balls while the other grabbed my ass.

Since my pants kept falling in her way she paused only long enough to strap my belt to the frame to hold my pants out of the way.

It didn't take long for my hands to begin their trek up her silky, shapely legs. My fingers found a very wet almost steaming cunt at the end of their journey. She let my cock slip from her mouth for a moment as gasp escaped her lips when my fingers made contact. She quickly recovered and returned to sucking on my cock. This lady was determined to give me the pleasure only a person in lust can.

Finger fucking her pussy at this strange angle was different. Her woman juices were now running down my arm. With one hand I tried to finger her clit and her love hole. My left hand I kept busy caressing her leg. Sliding my hand up her thigh I pressed a finger into her nice very tight ass.

When she returned the favor by shoving a saliva soaked finger in my ass, I just lost it. She kept sucking and swallowing, while I shot spurt after spurt into her mouth. I'm sure my moans and whatever other noises I was making could surely be heard in the hall. Hell I was loud enough they could probably hear it two floors down.

I can tell you this the wonderful feeling of ecstasy and adrenalin that comes from a powerful orgasm is intensified when you have a head rush from being upside down.

My arms hung limply on the floor. My body completely relaxed. I don't know how long I had my eyes closed while as I recovered. When I opened them, I was greeted to an erotic vision. My mystery date was now on her knees, bent over, busy fingering herself. The sounds her cunt made as she jammed a couple fingers in, told me just how excited she was.

I reached up with hands and grabbed the cheeks of her ass. She eased herself backwards as I pulled her to me. With a slight readjustment on her part, I was soon feasting on her juicy cunt. I was going to town licking on her well trimmed snatch. Her pussy lips were wet and tasty. 

"Oh fuck yes..... That's what I've needed." she moaned out.

I continued to lap up her flowing juices like puppy at a bowl of gravy. When I moved my tongue up and caressed her engorged clit she started going wild. 

“AHHHH, YOU’RE GONNA GET ME, OHHHH FUCK” Her voice all but a scream. 

I shoved two fingers into her tight pussy, wrapped my lips around her button and suckled on it.

"MMMMM, UUMMMMNMM, OOOHHH, YES DAMNIT, OHHMMM YES YOU FUCKING BASTARD, SUCK ME!!!! MAKE ME CUM, FUCK YES I'M GOING TO CUM. YES, YES, OHHHH YES. " 

and just when I thought she couldn't get any louder.

" ARRRRGH. OHHH FUCK... AAAAAAAAHHHHH."

And with that she collapsed forward out of my reach. For a few moments she didn't move. Then ever so slowly she began to show signs of life again.

Turning slowly she said to me, "I guess I must set you free now." 

And with that she made her way to the cuffs. Just when I figured she was ready to release them, someone knocked at the door. The first thing that came to mind was, we got busted for extremely loud sex. Just what I need. I could just see it, "And your name sir." the cop would ask.

My thought was broken when my lady friend called out.

"One minute. " 

Suddenly she was grabbing a bath robe and heading to the door.

"Shit." I thought to myself, "She could have unlocked this thing first. At least this contraption is so my back is to the door."

I heard the door open then my friend said to the person at the door. "It looks wonderful."

In a louder voice, speaking to me now, "I took the liberty of ordering us some room service."

"Could you put it on the table over there please."

What the hell was she thinking the only table in this room was in front of me. So much for keeping some of my dignity in tack.

As she entered my view, I noticed the room service clerk looked to be in her late teens, maybe early twenties. Curly strawberry blonde hair and very slender. I doubt she noticed me until after placing the food on the table and turning around. I can only imagine what ran through her mind as she took in the sight. Here she's greeted to a middle age guy hanging upside down, naked except for his pants tied up around his ankles with his belt, sporting a hard cock that was now beginning to drip.

If she was shocked, she never let on. She paused only for a moment then simply smiled and said to me, "Hang in there Batman."

Walking to the door she said, "My name is Alexis. If I can be of any further service, please feel free to call me." then she was gone.

My friend busted out laughing at the whole situation. Then set me free. Standing up right for the first time in about 30 minutes felt good. I wasn't happy with being embarrassed like that, but I was hungry and there was food on the table. Before I was done eating I decided the whole thing wasn't worth being mad at this incredibly pretty and sensual woman over.

We ate over polite conversation. But nothing said brought me any closer to figuring this riddle out.

"So you've waited 20 years for this huh?" Okay so I was fishing for information. Who knows, maybe I could learn something. 

"I warned you back then."

"Sorry, but I don't remember you telling me about any plans to hang me upside down, locking me that way, giving me a fantastic blowjob, then embarrassing me in front of the room service gal."

"I wasn't that specific on details. But I told you that one day, I was going to fuck you. The room service dudette was just bonus. Besides she enjoyed the show, she gave me a thumbs up and a wink as she was walking out."

"Well I should point out that 'technically' you haven't fucked me yet."

A sultry smile graced her lips as she stood, dropped the robe and walked over to me. Straddling my legs she grasped my cock, placed the head at the entrance to pussy and sat down. In one smooth motion I was buried all the way inside her.

With a slow, tantalizing up and down motion, her hot, tight pussy began to fuck my cock. 

"I told you."

The cunt on this lady was so wet and tight, if I hadn't already lost my memory, this would probably erased it. Freely mobile now, I grabbed a handful of her hair. Not so gently I pulled her head back so I could kiss and lick her neck. This sexual creature was amazing, she never missed a stroke as she rode me. My right hand started to feel her beautiful tits.

"Mmmmm. This is good." she moaned

As nice as her pussy felt riding me, I wanted to fuck her. I pushed her off me and said, "Lets mess up the bed some."

She gave me a deep sole melting kiss. Then taking me by the cock she led me to the bed. We kissed again. While we were kissing we lowered ourselves with me on top of her. I held her pretty face in my hands and looked into her dark eyes as I slid my meat back into her. Her eyes widened as she felt me pushing deep inside of her.

"Fuck me hard. Don't be gentle. Take my body. Fuck me." 

A request I couldn't refuse.

Grabbing her hips I began to thrust harder and harder. Her big tits were shaking and jiggling as our bodies were slamming together. I bent over and started to suck and nibble on one of her big brown nipples. Both her moaning and wetness increased. I slowed my pumping to prevent from blowing my load too soon.

"Take me from behind. Fuck the shit out of me. Make me cum over and over."

I pulled my cock out of her supper slick cunt and allowed her to reposition herself. I had to taste her again. So before I slipped my meat back inside her, I pushed my face into her pussy and jammed my tongue into her hot dripping hole.

"Ohhh Yes! I just love your tongue. Lick me baby. Lick my cunny good."

Her body tensed and a small orgasm rippled through her.

"AHHHHH. That was nice but I want your dick inside of me. I need you to fuck me."

I got back on my knees ready to fuck her some more. 

"I should punish you for earlier. Locking me upside down and letting room service in."

"Maybe you sho....."

SMACK. My hand came down on her ass. Followed by several more. Each time my hand spanked her ass a yelp escaped her lips. But she didn't pull away or protest. I smacked her ass a few more times turning it bright red.

"AAARRGGG. YOUR MAKING ME SO FUCKING HOT. DAMNIT FUCK ME!!!!"

In one hard thrust I slammed my cock home. I pumped her cunt hard from behind. My hanging balls swinging and hitting her clit with each stroke.

"OHHH FUCK..... HERE IT COMES! KEEP PUMPING YOUR COCK INTO MY PUSSY!!!"

I reached down and lightly massaged her button with one hand while reached around to grope her hanging tits. That sent her into orbit.

"AAAAHHH. I'M CUMMING YOU BASTARD! KEEP FUCKING ME! FUCK ME HARD!!! AAARRRGGG! OHHH FUCK!"

She kept screaming but the words became unintelligible around this time.

The orgasm that ripped through her body continued. The spasms from her pussy around my cock felt incredible.

I kept groping her tits, pinching and pulling her nipples. Her body rolled from one orgasm to the next. She kept rocking back and forth. Slamming her body into mine.


Amnesia



Many thanks to FernieLyn for editing/beta-reading my story and correcting things! 

"Your father has had an accident!" Mom said as she threw her coat on after hanging up the phone in the kitchen.

"What?" I shrieked as I jumped up from the sofa scattering all my homework across the floor.

I rushed to grab a jacket as Mom told me that we were heading to the hospital. The nurse that called didn't give us any information so we didn't know what to expect until we got there. I had to calm Mom down as she almost ran a stoplight which would have gotten us into a collision with the big Hummer that had some obnoxious driver with a small dick talking on a cell phone who was in far too much of a hurry to bother letting us go through the intersection.

Once at the hospital we found Daddy. He was in a room and was asleep. His head was bandaged. The nurse called the doctor who explained to us that he had been hit by a car which had caused him severe head trauma. Mom and I broke down in tears as the doctor said it was too soon to tell how Daddy would recover. He was stable, but in a coma right now.

I was Daddy's princess. Mom and he married young but it was sometime before they had me. That gave them a chance to grow up and mature. They were best friends when I came along and having me became a joy to them. There was no pressure, guilt or bad feelings between the two of them, they were always at ease and comfortable with each other.

Unlike most princesses, Daddy never spoiled me. I was never able to wrap him around my finger like you read in all those stories. Pouting did nothing to him. My temper tantrums were met with laughter. 

Daddy was strong in personality. He was a man. He was the boss in our family, our rock. Mom and I looked up to him, and looked to him for out strength and stability. All decisions went through him. It wasn't like he was an ogre who lorded over us, he just was...better than we were. 

He was smarter, more rational, stronger and more confident than anyone else I knew. Mom and I were always trying to do things that we thought he would approve of. He never hit either one of us, but just his look of disappointment when we had done something wrong was enough to cause heartache. 

This was a man that Mom and I always wanted to please. This was a man that had everything and now, through teary eyes, I saw my Daddy, my ideal man, broken and battered, humbled and smaller, in that hospital bed and I cried with pain and I cried with fear.

What would happen to us if he dies? How will we go on? It would break Mom's heart. It would break mine! He was larger than life and his two most devoted fans stood vigil over his bed all night long, hoping for a sign that things would be better. That we would awaken and this would all be just a bad memory to put behind us.

The next day, flowers and cards began to come into the room. They were from the neighbours, from work and from our friends. He was loved and respected by many.

Daddy stayed that way for a week. We had finally taken shifts to stay with him. I stayed during the day as I was able to withdraw from college and spend the time in his room watching him, while Mom had to go back to work.

One day while I was adjusting his pillow, his eyes fluttered open, startling me, which in turn startled him. 

"Nurse!" I shouted and the nurses ran into the room and before I knew it they had the doctor down examining him. 

I wasn't able to say a word to him. I ran outside and pulled out my cell phone to call Mom. I got voicemail so that meant that she must be in a meeting; that was the only time she didn't answer her phone. I quickly left a message and told her that Daddy was awake. Then I rushed back into the hospital to see him.

The doctor grabbed me before I could enter. "I want to see him!" I exclaimed.

"In a moment," he said. "I need to tell you about him first."

He took me to an area where we sat down.

"Ms. Gibson, your father has suffered some brain trauma as you know."

I nodded. He continued.

"It seems that he has suffered some amnesia. He doesn't know who he is and probably will not recognize you or your mother."

"What? I don't understand," I said.

"He is very disoriented right now and in most cases like this the amnesia is temporary. It might go away in a few hours, a few days or even weeks. It might be wise to wait until your mother gets here before you go and see him."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

The doctor sighed. "This can be hard on all of you including the victim. Right now his mind and memories are jumbled. It's important that the people that are the most important to him are introduced to him first. It's like baby birds. When they hatch the first thing they see gets imprinted in their memories. They inherently trust that person or thing the most."

"Your father's brain cannot cope with a lot of information right now. He is confused and scared. Introducing a line of people throughout different times would confuse him and might make things more difficult for him to sort his memories."

"I've left a message with Mom, who's at work. Once she gets that she'll be here. I guess I can wait until then. Will he be okay?" I asked the doctor. My eyes started to tear again. Daddy wouldn't know me. He wouldn't know Mom.

"He has other injuries which will make him housebound for a while, but as far as his stability, he should be able to go home with you and your mother this evening after we do some more tests."

I thanked the doctor and was told to wait in the waiting room while they continued to run tests on him. I was anxious for Mom to get here. We both needed to see Daddy.

From all the excitement, I must have fallen asleep as when I woke up it was dark out. I wiped a line of drool from my chin, not the most glamorous of moves, but hey I was in a hospital, and I checked my cell phone for the time. It was eight-thirty in the evening. 

Where was Mom? There were no voicemails from her. I tried calling again, but it went to voicemail again. I was getting worried. She always returned my messages no more than two hours later.

When I checked in with the nurse, she said that Daddy was ready to be discharged. I was a little confused at first and then realized that they were going to let me take him home.

"I haven't seen him yet," I mumbled as I was a little worried about what the doctor had told me about imprinting.

This nurse was one of the night nurses and didn't seem to think that there was an issue with me seeing him. She seemed keen to get him out of the bed and free up the room. With some trepidation I walked into Daddy's room and went to see him.

Daddy looked up and our eyes met. It was so good to see him again. Before I could say anything he smiled. 

"Well, to what do I owe this honor? Such a beautiful woman as you coming to see me! What's your name sweetheart?" 

I stammered for a moment taken aback by his words. "J..Jessica..." I said. 

"You don't happen to know my name now do you?" He asked. 

"Your name is Frank," I said as I went over and hugged him. Tears were flowing down my eyes. He was in a wheelchair and seemed ready to leave. 

"Frank...I think I like it, Jessica." He gave me a tentative kiss on my lips. It was a searching kiss, he was testing the boundaries of our relationship. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing, but by then I had returned his kiss back.

"You seem so familiar to me," he hugged me with his one good arm. He felt weak, fragile and my heart ached for this man who was a mere mortal now.

"I love you, I know that," he said.

"I love you too," I said automatically.

He smiled and we stayed in our embrace for a few more moments.

"I'm going to take you home now," I told him as I stood up and started wheeling him out of the room.

"Our home?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said. I started to realize that I had not told him that I was his daughter. It was kind of thrilling!

I signed him out and took him home. When we got there, there was still no sign or message from Mom. I was getting worried about that. I helped Daddy into the house and set him down on the couch. He needed to sit up for a while as he was sick of beds and laying down. I gave him his pain meds and he started to float off into semi consciousness. I watched him for a few minutes then went and checked the answering machine. There was a message waiting.

It was from the emergency room at the hospital I just came from. Mom had been involved in a car accident. How the hell can this be happening? Both my parents? I called the hospital and they filled me in on her condition. She had hurt her spine and they had immobilized her as a precaution. She was safe and in good condition but would be under observation for the next few days. That left me home with Daddy, taking care of him... and playing house together. 

I smiled a little as I thought about the fact that Daddy still didn't know that I was his daughter. He had treated me like a girlfriend. I still remembered that kiss he gave me. It took me a few moments, but a small simple and later on I would call it stupid plan hatched in my brain. I went to the living room where Daddy was now asleep and removed all pictures of Mom. I was thinking with my crotch, not my brain at that time.

I sat with Daddy and before I knew it I was asleep as well.

I awoke later to the feeling of his hand on my breast. I groaned as I realized what he was doing.

"Jessica?" He whispered. I sighed as my heart beat faster. Pushed back into him and he softly kissed me on the back of my neck. My hairs raised as goosebumps formed all over my body. I shivered as I felt his strength returning. My nipple was hard and he slowly and tenderly moved his hand that was under my shirt to my other breast and nipple. Oh my god! He knew just what to do as he played with my breasts and nipples. It felt so good I could only moan.

"You are so beautiful, I just couldn't help it." He kissed my neck some more. "When I first saw you, I was drawn to you. I was so glad to find out that we loved each other."

I moaned. "I love you Da..." I stopped myself from calling him daddy. "Frank," I added.

I turned to face him and when our eyes met, I saw the love in those eyes that I had always seen when I looked into my entire life. Now I also saw lust. It excited me. I kissed him and he took me. He took my heart as I knew that I wanted him now fully. Here was a man, here was my man. Here was the only man I ever wanted. I helped him with his shirt and gasped at the dark purple welts and bruises that colored his chest.

"Does it hurt?"

He smiled. "It does, but you know how to make it better!"

I grinned and started kissing his chest boo boo's away.

I worked slowly lingering on each bruise as I worked my way down his chest, over his stomach and got to his pants. I unbuttoned them and he lifted himself up with a few grunts of pain as I took them down from under him until he was naked before me.

"No fair," he said. "You get to see my broken body. I want to see your pretty little body!" I giggled as he stroked my cheek. I shook my head no and lowered myself down to his now hard cock.

I had seen my daddy's cock before. We were not a shy family and have walked around in the nude before. We have gone skinny dipping, and there have been times when I secretly watched Daddy take Mom with a passion that would leave me craving my own release. 

In short, I had seen my Daddy's cock erect before.

This time when I looked at it, it was completely different. It was bigger, stronger, heavier and more beautiful than I had ever seen it. How could it change like that? But I knew why. This cock was now for me! Tonight this cock was mine, not Mom's. Because of that, this cock was different.

I licked it softly at first. I teased him as I savoured the soft skin, the smell, the taste of him. He groaned. "Oh Jessica, I love you! How can I be so lucky as to wake up and get such a sexy young blonde girlfriend!"

I smiled as I took him in my mouth. He gasped as I worked my way down. I fondled his large balls and he whimpered! I started to move up and down on his member and he just lay back softly stroking my hair as I gave him pleasure. 

His body tightened up, his muscles squeezed, and he groaned in pleasure from what I was doing to him as well as pain from his injuries. He was helpless before me and I relished this reversal of power. All of my life, Daddy had been in control and I would react to him, now I was playing him like an instrument and he was reacting to my control!

"Oh Jess," he said and paused. 

I paused as well, his cock still deep in my throat as I realized that he had called me by my short name, something Daddy did all the time, but something Amnesia Frank hadn't done yet. Was the jig up? Was he remembering?

He stroked my hair again, the memory passed.

"That feels so good!"

I smiled inwardly as I couldn't with his wonderful warm cock in my mouth! I was still his girlfriend!

My mouth and jaws were getting tired, so I decided to stop and give my man a striptease! He lay back panting as I slowly undressed. I gave him an achingly slow lap dance as I removed my shirt and clothing. He tried to touch me but I playfully slapped his hands away.

"Tut, tut, tut! No touching," I admonished him.

My bra was off and I turned to straddle him with my hands clasped around my chest hiding my breasts. His eyes were focused on me. Not just my breasts, not just my body, but on my eyes, on my soul. 

Here was a world class lover, and while I tried to turn him on with my sexy body and strip tease, he had amplified what I was doing by touching me deeper than I could possibly realize. Mom, why have you been hording him away from everyone? This man could do so much good showing women everywhere what true passion and love is!

I leaned towards him and kissed him softly. He kissed me back. It was the gentlest kiss I have ever experienced and it rocked my world harder than anything I had ever had in my life. My man may have been broken, but his soul was still powerful and undamaged. I slid my pants down leaving me in nothing but my little panties. 

He continued to look me in my eyes. I crawled up on his lap and put my arms around his neck. I nuzzled him as he lightly bit my neck. He rubbed his cheeks against my face, scenting me, marking me as his. I was his. I realized I was always his. Daddy's princess had always been wrapped around his finger, not the other way around.

With his one good arm he touched me down there. At first it was a light stroking but soon as I arched my back to give him better access, he was pawing me with a need that told me that my teasing was coming to an end. I needed him. I needed Daddy in me. Wait, was I the one who had been teasing, or him? I wasn't so sure as my body continued to react to his kisses and his insistent hand.

Standing up, I removed my panties to reveal my shaved glistening pussy. The scent and aroma of my uncovered womanhood wafted in the air and excited us both. I quickly hovered over his throbbing hot cock and we looked at each other. There was an unspoken agreement that we were going to do this.

I lowered myself onto him and his stiff smooth cock slide easily into me, filling me up as he continued to stare into my eyes. We saw each others souls as I slowly got comfortable with Daddy's cock in me. I slowly rode him as feelings of pleasure shot through my spine and rippled through my body. He kissed me as I panted along with him. At times he moaned in pain but I didn't care. At that moment I was his and he was mine. We were one.

My mind floated as I felt the build up of an orgasm coming. I was aware of his cock thrusting in and out of me and his eyes as he stared into my soul. I lost vision as a wave of tingling pleasure rolled through me and settled into my toes. Another wave went through me and built up on the first, settling in my feet. The next moved the build-up into my calves. I still rode my man. The following wave settled in my hips and the final wave settled in my stomach as he spurted his hot cum into my womb. 

I was aware of someone screaming. It was me. I didn't care. I held onto my man, hurting him in the process as he flexed and grunted into me, spilling his essence, the same seed that had made me into my body. This is what my mother felt when Daddy mated with her and made me.

We came down slowly. It was hard to breathe and he just held me as best as he could with his one arm, as his other bandaged arm was soaked through with sweat. When I was able to focus on him, he had an intimate smile on his face as he looked at me.

"You are so beautiful," he told me and then he kissed me softly on my cheek. I melted into him and his embrace. I had never felt safer and more loved in my entire life. We fell asleep in each others arms. He was still in me. Our juices were left to slowly leak out of me during the night.

The next morning I opened my eyes to see that I indeed had not dreamed what had happened to me the night before. My loving Daddy, my man, was still under me, asleep and had a contented smile on his face. I smiled and shifted my weight to find that his cock had shrivelled up during the night and had plopped out of me. I pouted for a moment then started to slowly kiss my man awake.

His eyes opened and there was a look of confusion on his face. He winced in pain as his brain tried to work things out. He saw me and smiled. I smiled back and kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed me back. Then suddenly he pulled away.

"Jess?" He exclaimed. I looked into his eyes. My man was gone. Daddy had come back...

"Daddy?" I asked.

He nodded. Then he realized that we were naked. The memories of last night came flooding back to him. I could see it in his eyes as the horror of what happened dawned on him.

"Oh my god!" he cried. "We did...we had..." he couldn't finish the sentence.

I nodded again and kissed him softly on the lips.

His face was a picture of turmoil. Confusion, understanding, fear then finally, guilt, flowed through his features.

The gravity of the situation hit him; it hit him hard.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry..." he started to say.

I held a finger to his lips and shushed him.

"It's okay Daddy, I wanted it. I'm a big girl now."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"What have we done? How did this happen?"

He tried to push me off his lap, but due to his injuries he didn't have the strength. I kept myself plant, afraid of the rejection that Daddy would show me.

"Don't you remember, Daddy? You had amnesia! You thought I was your girlfriend. You said you loved me!"

He was speechless for a moment as he remembered. 

"Oh no!" he said.

"Oh yes!" I said.

"Baby, this is all wrong, why didn't you stop me?" He had given up trying to push me away as I clung onto him like my life depended on it.

"Stop you? I wanted you! I love you Daddy and I wanted you to have me, all of me."

He shook his head.

"I need to get up," he asked me. I stayed put and didn't move.

"Please honey," he croaked. "Help me to the bathroom, I need to go."

I grudgingly got off him and helped him up and to the bathroom. He sat down on the toilet and let out his pee. I stood there with him watching as my man had a very sad look on his face. Was I wrong in what I did? He did put the moves on me. I didn't tell him I was his daughter and I did let him think that I was his beautiful sexy young girlfriend...

"What happened to me?" he asked as I helped him back to the couch. 

He had me get him his bathrobe and covered himself up. Feeling modest myself, I covered up with a robe of my own and curled up next to him on the sofa.

I noticed the stain on the couch, long since dried, that showed the evidence of our love from last night.

"You were hit by a car. You've been in a coma for a week. When you came to the doctors said you had amnesia and they didn't know when your memory would come back."




Amnesia



He gulped and looked around. "That explains the pain...where's your mother?"

I swallowed and told him what happened to her.

"I'm planning on going to the hospital today and see her. She wanted to see you," I said.

We just looked at each other.

"Daddy, don't be mad. It just happened. I know I took advantage of you, but with both you and Mom almost killed I needed someone close to me and someone to love."

He looked at me. The love in his eyes had been replaced with pain.

"What we did hurt your mother, it hurt me and it hurt us. I love you, more than anything else baby, but I never wanted you like that. Your mother is all I ever needed in that capacity. Now..."

I hugged him as he started to cry.

"Daddy, I don't believe that. You lost your memory not your feelings last night. You were attracted to me; deep down inside I think you wanted me, lusted for me. The man who I made love to last night had a passion for me that had been simmering for many years."

He looked surprised. "Well look who's gotten wise while I've been gone!"

We just sat there for a few moments.

"I don't know what I feel right now. I do love you, but I never thought we would do anything like this."

"I know Daddy. I love you too. Last night was the most wonderful experience of my while life. I will never forget it and I will cherish it. Please Daddy, please... don't ruin that moment for me. Even if you hated it, and I believe you didn't, don't ruin it in my memory. I couldn't bear it."

He smiled. "I won't, baby. I love you and I will put this down to... extenuating circumstances."

I smiled and kissed him on the lips. It was a kiss shared by a daughter and father. "Are you hungry? I'm supposed to look after you while you mend!"

He nodded. I got up to fix him some food. Just as I left he grabbed my hand. I looked down at him and my Daddy had been replaced by my man.

"Jessica, I enjoyed last night with you as well. It was magical."

Melting with joy, I turned and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

I was to go see Mom after breakfast. What would I tell her?

As always, comments are most appreciated! Thanks for reading!



Amnesia



It wasn't the first time I'd woken up with a head that was thumping louder than the car radios of half the kids under twenty in our area, and nor was it the first time my earliest thought was 'where am I?'. But the pain and disorientation were combining to ensure that it was destined to be a classic.

My first thoughts was something like 'where are the painkillers?' rapidly followed by 'where am I?' and the first grateful relief was sharp on their tails when I recognised the crumpled pattern of my own duvet. At least I'd found my way home through the booze. Or maybe someone had taken pity on the poor pissed Penny and dumped me in a taxi or even brought me to my door.

You'd think at 38 with a son more than half my age I would have outgrown the occasional binge, but you'd be wrong. They really are only very occasional, but they really are a time for me to forget it all and get wrecked.

I'm not really making excuses for my occasional bursts of wildness but... well, okay, I reckon I do have an excuse or two. My ex-husband had departed the house with a suitcase and a parting shot about my 'prudishness' and that he was moving in with a little bitch half my age and twice the tit-size. Those are my words, by the way, not his... oh, you guessed...

That had been three years earlier and I had gone through the usual five stages of grieving: 

Denial (I'm no prude, look, here I am joining a nudist club (quickly followed by here I am quitting when that seventy year-old guy pinched my butt)) 

Anger (I'm no prude, look, I'll do anything that effing bitch thinks she can do (quickly followed by here I am for seven weeks in a cast when the bikini slipped down in the waterslide and I broke my ankle in a panic trying to recover it))

Bargaining (I'm no prude, look, if you come home I'll flash my tits to the postman like you wanted so much (quickly followed by here I am grovelling an apology to his BOYfriend when he turned up on my doorstep screaming at me))

Depression (I'm no prude, look, here I am crying whenever my age gets me down (quickly followed by here I am explaining my tears and actions to a policeman when a guy in a bar had told me I looked okay for a forty year-old... and I hit him))

Acceptance (I'm no prude, look, here... oh, I guess that skirt is a bit long, that top rather high... (quickly followed by yeah, I'm right whenever I looked in a mirror))

But five stages of grief or not, right now was I hung over as badly as I could recall. I lay on the bed and tried my hardest to figure out what had happened the night before. I had dressed up in a frock for a change (see above) and left the house in a taxi at somewhere around eight. Ben -- my son -- had been told that there were to be no parties while I was out but he was ear-deep in books anyway, his first year at Uni starting to look like hard work to him.

Then there was the first bar where I hooked up with Wendy, 'not yet divorced' as she terms herself, and then there were the first vodkas... then more. There was a nightclub sometime later. Some funny coloured drinks there -- pinks and neon-greens -- and then... nothing.

I must have lay there for half an hour but nothing else made itself known. I was safe though, in my own bed, warm and... naked? I was. Well there was nothing odd there was there? I quickly checked the rest of the bed. No-one had shared it with me, so naked was okay wasn't it? Nothing amiss in a bit of... oh shit!

The missing word was 'soreness'. As in 'nothing amiss in a bit of soreness'. But there was. Given where I was a tad tender. 

My hand shot down to the warmth between my legs, my pussy if you must, and I gasped again. There was a fine coating of... well, of dried juices. More than I could make on my own, which meant... 

Thumping head or not, I cursed aloud and scrambled off the bed. On my hands and knees I scrambled some more until I found my panties tangled in my little dress and one stocking. A very quick check told me all I needed to know -- they had been perfectly (more or less) clean when I had taken them off.

Or someone had taken them off me.

I checked the bed again, my pounding brain now adding panic to the nauseating mix as I confirmed that the bed had just been slept in by me. Or at least for the last few hours.

It was clear to me now that I had been brought home for sure. Or more to the point, for sex. Someone must have brought me here, brought my right up to my bedroom here and... those were streaks of his dried... his dried ejaculate on my thighs. Higher than thighs. 

I didn't really need to look but I scanned the floor helplessly for a used condom. 

Not only sex then, but bareback sex. Good job I was on the pill, I thought. Then added, I hope I didn't climax!'

Now that sounds pretty stupid, I know. After all, what woman doesn't want to make sex worthwhile to herself at least in that way? But Ben would have been home. Ben would have heard me stumbling around with this stranger -- oh heck, he might even have seen him! -- and the last thing I'd want is for Ben to hear more than that...

I stopped in mid-panic. Ben... yes, Ben might have seen the guy. My own son might be able to tell me what the guy looked like.... And Wendy must know as well, surely? Of course! Wendy!

Wendy was, I immediately knew, a much better bet than having to ask my son such an embarrassing thing. I fumbled for my phone and speed-dialled her number. She answered mercifully fast.

"Georgie! I'm amazed to hear from you so early. How you feeling?"

"Never mind how bad that is, Wends, I need to know!"

My friend paused and I could tell she was frowning even over the airwaves, "Need to know what?"

"I need to know who brought me home, of course!"

"Oh, right, that was Mickey. You don't remember?"

I stared at my reflection in the mirrored doors of my wardrobe, aghast, "Your Mickey?"

"Er... yes..."

"Your husband, Mickey?"

"Soon to be ex but useful at times anyway, yes."

I looked down at the ghostly stains on my thighs, "You call that useful?"

"Georgie, excuse my French, but what the fuck are you going on about?"

"You don't mind? You didn't think that maybe I was too drunk to--"

"Georgina! I repeat, what the fuck are you blathering about? Mickey dumped you on your doorstep and then spent the next twenty minutes lecturing me on what a pair of stupid women we are. I was the one who suffered last night, believe me."

My mind was still full of cotton wool. With barbed wire edges. "He dumped me at the door?"

Wendy grunted affirmation, "Rang the bell, made sure Ben was coming down, then jumped back in here and lectured me all the way home. Not so sure he was happy about coming and getting us, but I figure what the fuck?"

"And there was no one else with us?"

"Hardly. You could barely stand up, let alone react to chat-ups, and I'm still just about married, remember?"

"Oh..."

My mind whirled as I hung up, probably rather abruptly, and I tried to work out the situation. I pulled on a robe and sat on the bed. If I had been dumped on the doorstep alone and Wendy's husband (ex to-be) had just pressed the bell even in his pissed-off state he would have waited until he heard footsteps. But by Wendy's comment, he hadn't waited until the door had opened. Ben, in other words, hadn't been the person who answered that bell-press. And whoever did had found me more or less slumped there.

I had no idea who it was. Had no idea, even, whether he had come on to me or me to him. But in any case, he had taken advantage of my drunken state. Hungrily taken advantage, to judge by the delicate ache I felt in my groin now. It was wrong on so many levels, and it was someone Ben must have invited over. A tutor, I supposed. Oh heck, or maybe a friend! 

What if that was true? What if I'd been making out with... fucking... a twenty year old? What a... Only Ben would be able to tell me who he'd had there...

"Ben!"

There was silence in the house. Well there was until I yelled my son's name again, the pain blossoming in my forehead -- not that I cared. When he failed to materialise after the fourth yell, I pulled my robe tighter and staggered out into the hallway. 

The house was quiet in the way that only empty houses can be. In my booze-sodden heart I knew it straight away, but that didn't stop me scurrying down the stairs and through the still, calm living room, dining room and kitchen, yelling my son's name. There were papers and books strewn across the desk in the dining room and no laptop on the table, all indicating that Ben was out of the house. All of which didn't stop me retracing my steps and even going further, risking health both physical and mental, by daring to open Ben's bedroom door.

My son was nowhere to be found. I ignored the stack of a dozen or so traffic cones in the depths of his room and shuffled back to my own room to recover my phone. I called Ben's number, desperate now for information, but the call went straight to voice mail. I should add 'of course' since that seems so very appropriate given my evident behaviour the previous night. Ben, it appeared, was avoiding his mother for very reasonable reasons -- how I must have embarrassed him!

I only tried calling my boy another three or four -- okay, eleven -- times before I gave in and made my way to the bathroom and, more importantly, the shower. I could barely bear to touch the worst of the stains on my thighs even through the hot stream, but a judiciously placed sponge did the trick. I emerged pink and stain-free, carrying a grade nine headache and enough embarrassment to make me drag my feet back to my room.

I dressed in two layers of underwear, jeans, t-shirt and denim blouse and then, safe, sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and nibbling on pain-killer sandwiches. Ben had to return sometime soon and I was determined not to miss out on the information I so desperately needed. I wasn't sure what I might do with that knowledge, or even whether the name would be of someone I even knew. But I needed it anyway.

*****

It was a Sunday, quiet as the proverbial church mouse in our area and even more so in our house. My sentinel duty started at a little short of midday and I must have looked at the clock a hundred times in the first hour. By the fifth hour I was only glancing up every minute or so, and by the eighth I could have swapped a clock for a calendar. Ben, it seemed, was out for the day, the evening, and at that rate, possibly the month.

The light faded from the Summer sky and still there was no sign of my son, and I still sat in the kitchen, my headache no more than an echo of its earlier heights -- or depths, rather -- and my mood a curious mix of embarrassment and anger. I had replayed the previous night's activities a hundred times and more in my head and I still had no more idea of what had happened than I had in the middle of the day. I had toyed with the idea that maybe I had been somehow drugged -- rhohypnol, maybe -- but it just didn't fit with what I had been told about what had happened. I had called Wendy again -- from the house phone so that my mobile wouldn't be engaged if Ben called -- and had badgered her for as many details of the previous night as she could remember (or at least until she had asked me too many questions about why it was so important that I knew all about what was, to her at least, just another drunken night out). Nothing made anything any clearer.

The clock swung past the witching hour, twelve or thirteen hours after my vigil had started, and there was still no sign of my boy. It wasn't unusual for him to be out late of a weekend night, but it was so frustrating. Even my tingling, sensitive area began to calm. Through boredom, I imagined in a particularly piqued moment.

I had been guzzling water on and off all of the day and the evening, my hangover symptoms making themselves known on an almost constant basis, but I seldom even rose from my kitchen chair to go out to the downstairs bathroom to relieve myself. It was on one of my infrequent visits during the early hours of Monday morning when I found myself very nearly dozing as I sat there. I checked the little clock on the wall above the sink and seeing that it was almost three o'clock, realised that Ben was unlikely to be home any time soon. And more to the point, even if he was, I was hardly capable of listening to any answer he might have, let alone asking him the relevant questions. Perhaps, I reasoned, he was even more embarrassed by my behaviour the previous night than I was. Which, of course, made me feel even more guilt-ridden than I already did.

I rose from my perch and stood before the back door, its surface reflecting back my image, the night outside as dark as pitch. For some odd reason I slipped my robe off my shoulders, quickly discarding a moment of guilt as I realised I hadn't dressed properly all day, and looked at my mirrored nakedness. I felt oddly safe. The garden, invisible in the darkness beyond the door, overlooked a golf course which would be empty just now and for hours to come. The front door through which Ben would let himself in when he was good and ready was a long way behind me through doorways and a long hallway. No one would see me like this except me.

I was, then, more than three months shy of my thirty-ninth birthday and I was not displeased by my appearance. I worked out, harder than ever, admittedly, to stay in shape and my curves were not so dissimilar to the way they were when I was a teenager. Gravity was starting to prove that there was one law that the European Union had failed to overturn, but my breasts were full enough for this to be less than obvious. With a flat belly, toned muscles in arms and legs, I was normally very happy with the way I looked and I knew I should have been right then. But...

But all I could look at was the area around the neatly trimmed thatch of red... okay, ginger... hair at my groin. The shower had cleansed me thoroughly and completely, and yet I could somehow still see the ghost of the stain that had greeted me there that morning. I just couldn't believe I had been so... so disgusting!

I bent and grabbed the robe, ramming my arms into the sleeves and yanking the cotton folds around me to cover my shame. The tear or two that leaked under firmly shut eyelids were more formed through anger than embarrassment, but no less bitter for all of that. I took a minute or two to compose myself then stalked up the stairs to my room. I lay on the bed, intent on staying awake until Ben made a probably drunk appearance in the house, falling asleep almost immediately.

*****

I woke on the Monday morning with a start, confused as to what day it was at first. Confused as to what species I was, come to that. I glanced over at my alarm clock and saw that it hadn't been set and worse, it was a little after eight... if I didn't rush I would be at least twenty minutes late into the office--

I stopped in mid-scramble-out-of-bed. I had the week off!

I flopped back onto my pillow. What a joy! What a wonderful, delightful feeling to know that I had been panicking for absolutely no reason! What a glorious-- 

I stopped for a second time, my stomach flipping in an altogether less delightful fashion as the events of Saturday night -- or rather, the evidence of Sunday morning -- came crashing back into my head. I sat up calling my son's name even before attempting to climb out of the bed. 

"Ben! Did you make it back last night?" I gave no mind to the pointlessness of that question and nor to the thought that he would have had no more than five hours of sleep even if he had come back. "Ben?"

In clear proof of my desperation for answers I stumbled out of bed, into my robe, and into the pit of despair that he called his room. His bed was unmade as ever, but more importantly in just the same way that it had been unmade the day before. Ben, it seemed, had not returned home all night. Not unheard of, even without -- I checked my message-less phone -- any communication in that regard, but... oh boy... just how badly had I embarrassed him with person unknown for him to disappear like that this time.

Of course, my mind -- the evil bitch that it is -- reminded me, the usual expression is 'person or persons unknown'. I tried to suppress a whimper as I staggered along to the bathroom where I found what I was already suspecting was going to be the only relief I would feel that day. Persons plural! Where did that nasty idea come from? And could that possibly be the reason for so much soreness just where the supposedly super-soft toilet tissue was delicately dabbing?

I ouched my way back to the bedroom and hastily threw on as many layers of clothing as I could reasonably get away with before heading to the kitchen for another daily vigil, waiting for the possessor of the information that I so desperately wanted.

It was another long, and another fruitless, wait. At least the endless fidgeting distracted me from the fridge and food in general. But with every fidget I came up with yet another reason why my son had been horrified by my behaviour at the weekend. There again, I didn't care any longer if he had heard me and the stranger -- or strangers -- I just wanted the name. Or names. Or even just a description or two. Surely not three? 

The sun went down but not my heart rate. Eventually my eyelids followed suit and I found myself jerking awake at the kitchen table, my face stick in a dried puddle of saliva that had leaked from me sometime during the night. Pulling myself free of the obnoxious table, I checked my watch and the kitchen clock. It was after three and the house felt as empty as ever, but I still dashed upstairs to confirm that Ben was still playing the role of absent son.

And probably the horrified son, as well.

It was stupid o'clock, but I felt weirdly tired. Dog-tired my own mother would have probably said with astonishing foresight fifteen years ago when I was still at home. Figuring that my son was going to remain absent all night I went to my room, stripped quickly and dived into the bed. I wondered whether I would see him the next day. Or ever again, come to that.

At eight o'clock the next morning I found out.

*****

"Mum! Wake up! Please!"

"Wassmadda?" I was awake fast and far more alert than usual, "Wasstime?" 

Ben breathed an audible sigh of relief and threw the empty pain-killer bottle back into my bedside cabinet, "Thank fu... goodness. Mum, wake up because I really need to talk to you before I run out of nerve."

"You wanna talk?" See? I was always sharp and alert from the first second I was awake.

"Don't want to, but I need to." He breathed deeply again, then plunged on, "Mum, it's real important and if I don't say it now I don't think I ever will."

My mind was de-fogging fast and I finally understood that this was going to be about the weekend -- and to judge from my son's agitated state, I was due some bad news about my behaviour then. As you all know, I was fully expecting that but now the moment was apparently upon me it still sent a shiver of fear and shame-to-come shuddering up my spine. I sat up fast, "Just say it then, angel, but know -- just know -- that I'm so very sorry."

He glanced down at me then fixed on my eyes, "You're sorry?"

"Yes," I told him emphatically. Just like my son, I glanced down at myself, but on seeing that I had sat up fast to the point where the duvet had slipped down to my waist and that I was naked, I gave a squeak and covered up fast. Then wondered how the hell he'd not at least looked just a little longer at one part of me -- or rather, two -- which I never showed off normally. "Sorry again," I told him with feeling.

Ben's dismissive shake of the head felt midway between a grateful relief and the gentlest slap in the face but his next words had me thinking too busily for any lingering thoughts as to his reaction to my accidental exposure, "What do you mean, mum, you're sorry?"




Amnesia



"Didn't we just go through this bit? I know I need to say it and believe me, I mean it. I was--" 

"Mum! No, it's me who needs to say it!"

"Oh don't blame yourself for my silliness!"

Ben shook his head again, "You weren't silly, you were drunk. I was the fuckwit! Sorry, I mean idiot."

"Ben... no. The fuckwittery was all mine," I hoped my use of the word, more or less, would reassure him that for once I wasn't upset by his use of bad language; that the circumstances of my stupidity were more important just now, "I've been a moron I know, I and I just hope that you can forgive me--"

"Actually," he interrupted me without a thought, it seemed, "Actually I wasn't an idiot in one respect but in the other... oh, mum, I really am so sorry!"

"Ben, my angel, don't punish yourself for not stopping me from making a fool of myself. I don't even remember who it was..." I trailed off as Ben's suddenly quizzical look took on a confused and, I have to admit it, plain scared aspect. My mind started to turn in a whole new direction.

"You don't remember, mum?"

"No, Ben." I looked into those familiar eyes, wondering quite suddenly what was going on behind them. Was I really starting to think straight? Warped, but straight? I could almost see my son's thoughts, his frantic reasoning. I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it, but I suddenly felt sure that he was thinking that he needn't have said anything to me and I would have been none the wiser. But he would never have been sure would he? Rightfully so, maybe because my memories might have returned. Just as they were returning a little now. I shook my head but it wouldn't clear as the white noise inside me began to grow and grow. "You offered to help me inside, didn't you?"

Ben shrugged, flapped his hands uselessly, nodded.

I remembered now. Remembered his strong arms around my waist, guiding me up the stairs. Remembered my surprise at how strong those arms were, how well-muscled my son had become. My heart lurched as the next memory hit me. "You helped me in here, didn't you? Into my bedroom?"

I watched as Ben's eyes almost rolled in their sockets, his colour high and rising. Another nod.

My mind really was spinning as the next memory crashed over me. I remembered slumping against him, more closely than I had any need to do, in my drunken state aroused -- maybe playfully aroused -- at the sensation of a strong young man against me. And then another... "Oh god! Oh Ben, I did, didn't I? I asked you to help me undress?" The wall that had held back the memories crashed down and I almost shrieked. I never let Ben speak or rather, if he did then I didn't listen, just spilled the recollections from me in a garbled rush as they made themselves shockingly known to me.

"I did. And you asked me if I was sure, really sure and I said I was. I sometimes get so fucking horny when I'm a bit pissed but you never knew that, did you? But I said I was and you helped me sit right here, right on the bed and you leaned over me and you slid the zipper of my dress down my back and helped me stand so it slid right off me and there I was in knicks and bra and fuck-all else and I could see it, you know? I could see how my body in the lace was turning you on, how your eyes were fixed on my nipples underneath the lace of my bra and I got so fucking hot. Oh my god I was so hot and so pissed and that's no fucking excuse but I wanted you to see them and that's why I asked you to undo the bra." I gulped but didn't slow down, the memory of how stupid I'd been spinning my brain in my skull, "And that bra was off in seconds and there I was standing there with my naked tits right in front of you and all it did was get me hotter yet and it was me, wasn't it? It was me that started to pull the knickers down as well, and you went to help me, didn't you? You were shaking like a leaf but you wanted to see my pussy so badly you leaned down and oh fuck, Ben, I leaned in to you, pushed my tits up against you, didn't I? Wanted to feel your face against them. Holy fuck Ben I was so drunk! I put your hands on them didn't I? Wanted you to feel how hard my nipples were, how turned on I was. And, oh no, oh fuck! I told you I was soaking wet, horny beyond words, grabbed one of your hands and put it... oh fuck, put it against my pussy, told you to feel it, feel my cunt!"

I gasped then as full realisation hit me -- hard. Underneath the duvet, I put one hand against my womanhood, remembering the stains that had decorated it and my thighs. My eyes must have grown as wide as dinner plates when I made that final link. 

I didn't care that I was naked -- he'd fucking seen it all anyway, hadn't he? -- I just pushed the duvet back and leapt to my feet. That time Ben did look down briefly and a flash of something that was nothing to do with a son's natural look at his mother passed over his features. I drew back my right hand and let go with the hardest punch I had ever thrown in my life.

To his credit, Ben was up from where he'd landed on the floor before I could follow the haymaker punch with a kick -- my father had taught me well -- and he was out of the door with my cries of rage ringing in his ears.

*****

After wrapping my throbbing knuckles in a tea-towel full of ice, my invaded body in a protective robe, and my thoughts in whisky, I sat myself at the kitchen table once more. Ben had, fairly naturally, disappeared from the house and it took me three tumblers of the fiery liquid before I could even start to think.

The rage had subsided and a part of my troubled mind kept reminding me that it was my own actions that had precipitated everything -- Ben was only twenty and for sure, he should never have succumbed to my actions, but there again... and there was my problem. Perhaps I'd been too much to refuse? I know I'd been precipitously aroused, pushy even -- that wouldn't be unusual -- and even if the right and proper thing to do would have been to have dumped me in my room and ignored me, well... perhaps I was hitting him at a vulnerable moment?

Perhaps I was full of shit. He should never have taken advantage of me like that, drunk. Any woman drunk, come to that. Or maybe... I downed another whisky.

My hand was throbbing and while one part of me was almost crowing that he had it coming, deserved every bit of pain I had caused, another, darker, part of me tried to interrupt that he had had me coming. Judging by the stains, I'd sure had him coming!

A vague and distant tremor deep inside made me pause for thought even further. All the while I had been raging about my disgusting son's actions in taking advantage of me, but was I being right? Hadn't it been me taking advantage of Ben? How could he have refused me what I wanted? I must certainly have turned him on enough to have a great deal of fun with him -- the soreness told me all I needed to know about that -- and if he'd thought in the crazed minutes when it all started that maybe I was so drunk I wouldn't remember, or that he'd never get another chance... 

But no! No, I was being stupid beyond words and my son, my own flesh and blood, had... he'd taken advantage of me. He'd touched me, he'd... my own son had fucked me! It didn't matter that I might have been -- okay, I was -- asking for it, quite literally, he still should have denied me... 

I was alternating between moronic giggles and remorseful, then angry tears. It should never have happened! It would change everything. How could I have wanted it that badly? How could I have wanted a young, muscular, attractive guy like...

I was on my sixth or maybe seventh whisky and this time I couldn't deny the tiniest thrill that coursed deep inside me. Sure it was wrong of him -- but maybe understandable. It was me that had been definitely wrong so why the fuck had I reacted so nastily when he finally returned?

Oh yes, because I was a woman and he should have shown respect whatever my state of inebriation, that's why!

I almost dropped the glass when I said, out loud to the empty kitchen, "Jush wiss I could member more bout it!" I giggled, gasped, and screwed the top back on the whisky bottle in a sudden panic.

I somehow doubted I would see my son again that night -- maybe that month -- and wasn't unhappy about that just then. If anything I was more confused than when I'd started to think and drink. Or even than when I'd come home drunk at the weekend.

I took myself off to bed.

*****

Two days passed and there was still no sign of Ben, and apparently none of his friends had seen him either -- or were admitting to it. I started out thinking he would just be cooling off and would be back before long, but then I got to wondering if he thought that maybe I had taken my anger to other authorities or that he was maybe just too scared or embarrassed to return while I was around. His phone was still going straight to voicemail, but I left a few voice and text messages. They started with me asking him politely to come home and talk, graduated through pleading, and by the second evening were reduced to the three simplest words I could think of. I love you.

For all my confused thinking -- shifting the blame from me to Ben faster than a tennis ball travels from one side of the net to the other in a men's professional tennis match -- I was starting to think that what had happened was the product of both my bad behaviour and the natural state of easily aroused young men everywhere. An aberration, a freak of circumstance, something to be deplored, and yet something that was in some way understandable. 

Or was I just making excuses for him as usual? 

Or maybe for me?

By the Sunday afternoon I was no wiser and seemingly no closer to having a son back in residence. Dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and an equally ratty skirt, I started on a fresh bottle of whisky at an abnormally -- I promise -- early hour in the afternoon and could do nothing other than sip drinks and watch far more insipid television programmes. The apparently endless whirling of my few remaining brain cells had reduced to the occasional flat-footed lap of my skull and the heat and whisky were sending me ever closer to an early evening slumber when the front door squeaked open with an almost apologetic whine.

My somnolence disappeared in a fraction of a second and I was on my feet and calling Ben's name before he got to the living room door where he stood with his head bowed. I stopped, suddenly terrified of terrifying him.

"Ben? Angel? I've been trying to call you for days -- to say sorry and to say you're more than welcome here -- so very much more than."

My son raised his head, shrugging an acknowledgement to the wince I gave at the sight of the still livid bruise around his left eye, "I kinda got that message from your calls, mum. And really there's no need for you to apologise. That should be me."

"Come here," I opened my arms and he tentatively accepted my embrace, his body rigidly upright in mine, his arms tight against his sides even as I hugged him. "Please tell me you're home for good?"

I felt his nod before he added, "As long..." He took the longest deep breath, "As long as we can just clear the air. Now."

I released him and stood back "Of course. And trust you to be more grown up about things than me, Of course we need to clear--" 

"Mum, please! This is hard enough as it is!"

"Okay, okay, sorry. Go on then, angel." I held my breath.

It took him a few seconds to start, and I could see that he was going over words that he must have already rehearsed a hundred times. 

"Mum, you must know what happened and maybe you know why, but maybe not. Sure I'd seen you a bit p... drunk before but it seemed different last weekend." For some weird reason, it calmed me, a calmness that broadened as he began, no matter how unworldly it all seemed. "When you asked me to help you upstairs that was all it was to me, I swear, but then... then you seemed so different when we were actually going up... it's so hard to explain."

"You're doing great so far," I told him, partially because I had remembered just that sensation, and partially because I wanted him to keep going.

He gulped some air down and managed to actually look at me briefly before continuing, "Well when we got in your room and you were... you asked me to help with the dress... I just can't explain why I did what I did. You always look great when you dress up and go out, but last weekend I'd already seen you on the way to the cab and, well, you really looked so great."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised and trying hard not to feel delighted by my son's words. After all...

"Mum, I haven't ever thought of you that way before!" He took a deep breath, "Sexually, I mean. But... but I have to say this. I need me to say this. But you looked so... sexy and, and there you were asking me to help you out of that dress and, and then you were standing there in that tiny little bra and panties set and, and--"

Ben's voice was getting faster and faster and I could see his admission was taking its toll on him regardless of the amount of rehearsal time he'd spent, "Ben, it's okay!"

"No, mum, no! Let me finish. I know -- really, truly, completely know -- that I should have just left when you said to unhook your bra but I was just so fucking turned on -- sorry, so very turned on -- that I just had to do it. I could see your nips through the bra and although I've peeked down your tops and stuff like most teenage guys do I'd never seen you that close and I just wanted it so much and, and then you tried to get your panties off I lost it! Lost control. I wanted to see it all and, fuck it I wanted to touch and you didn't even seem that pissed any more but maybe that's just wishful thinking and, and I tried to help and you pressed against me and your t... boo... br..."

"Tits," I said without thinking, "Best word for me."

Ben nodded, seemingly thanking me, "Yeah well, when you pressed against me and your tits were in my face and I... your panties slid down and you were naked, that was like the last moment I had to pull away, my last chance. And I know I should have, but... oh mum, I wanted you to take things further so I could make the excuse and say I was just doing what you wanted and then you put my one hand on your tits and the other... the other..."

"My pussy," I whispered.

"The other on your pussy, yes, oh fuck mum you were so hot, so wet. I know it was wrong, totally, but mum I wanted it all then. I wanted to touch your tits, feel your pussy, I wanted to suck you, kiss you. Mum! I just wanted so very, very much, all of you!"

My mind was almost numb, "You wanted all of me. To fuck me, yes?"

"Yes, yes! To fuck you... To put my... hardness in you. Mum, I wanted all of that and -- I don't care whether you believe this or not -- mum, I wanted to make love to you as well!"

My jaw dropped as my arms opened wide.

Ben almost pitched himself into those arms, the word 'sorry' cascading from his lips even as I started to stroke his hair and say the words that every mother gets so used to from when their offspring are tiny: "There, there, angel. It's okay."

My son's shoulders heaved as he sobbed against my neck and I dragged him back to the sofa, sitting him next to me without breaking contact, without stopping my comforting words. My mind was back to its whirling best. I broke off from the 'there, there' refrain for long enough to ask, softly, "Did I ask you to make love to me?"

Through his sobs, Ben shook his head, "You just said that you wanted me... in you."

"That I wanted you to fuck me?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

"And you wanted to do that and wanted to... make love to me as well?"

Another nod, another "Yeah."

"You told me you loved me over and over, didn't you?" The memory was fuzzy, but present, and my heart was flipping, somersaulting, its rate doubling as I received a third nod, "Do you realise I've just remembered something?"

"Wh-what?"

The memory crashed through me with a vivid clarity that almost had me gasping, "I know you did, and I loved hearing that but thought if I said the same back then... it would change things. That maybe we could get away with that one drunken fling as something... just purely physical if I never said anything about love..." My mind was supplying all of the details that had been missing all week and it was both terrifying and exhilarating, "If... if I just made out that it was fucking pure and simple -- hah -- to satisfy my needs then we could get over it, forget about it. If you didn't want to know me like that afterwards then neither of us would lose any sleep--" 

"Mum, no!" Ben shocked me by lifting his head from my shoulder and shaking it furiously from side to side, his hair flapping wildly, "It's not that way at all! I've been thinking all week I fucked things up totally, that it really was just you wanting a cock, any cock... but, if you..."

I held my hand up, then said, slowly, "Ben... I'd blanked this from my mind, but it's true. That's what I felt. I've never really thought about you in any way other than as my boy, my little Ben, but... last weekend a light came on. It was when we were going up those stairs through there," I nodded towards the hallway, "Then it all came through fully formed -- fears as well. And that makes me all the more sorry for hitting you."

Ben's mouth was opened in an incredulous circle. He snapped it shut and shook his head as if to clear it. "It seemed like it was something that had been hidden from me -- by me -- as well. And then there it was."

"Didn't you used to call those the 'magic' stairs?"

Ben risked a half smile, "Yeah. And they seemed pretty magic last Saturday." 

He stared at me to see if he had taken a step too far. If he had, I didn't care right then, "You know something? I'm not disagreeing."

My son's eyes switched from me to the door to the hallway and I could tell that he wanted to say something but didn't have quite that much nerve. My mind did it's by-now-usual whirl and I blanked my logic circuits long enough to say, "Want to call it a night now and show me the way to bed again before this whisky gets me too pissed?"

Ben's switching eyes locked onto mine, "You mean..."

"Ben, angel, I'm not sure what I mean," I gave my son a tremulous smile, "But I think it's something to do with wanting to show you -- and me -- what I was repressing so heavily last weekend. You sure you're okay with that?"

He shot to his feet, trying to drag me with him, "More than you could ever imagine, mum."

I let his hands pull me towards the door and then guide me onto the stairs. His right arm snaked around my back and it was like an electric shock to the memory circuits as I recalled in precise detail the strength that I had felt just the weekend before. My doubts disappeared, to be replaced by a sensation that was ninety per cent desire and ten per cent thrill at the thought of a barrier that was going to be broken. And not broken again because this time I was fully aware of my actions.

We clattered awkwardly up the stairs, awkward because each step was taken faster than the last to the point where we almost ran the last few feet from the top of the stairs to my room. Once inside there was a pause as my son, my gorgeous Ben, stared at my old t-shirt, clearly wondering if I was about to change my mind.

I grabbed the front hem of the garment just below the faded picture of, appropriately enough, Lois Griffin, and pulled it a little away from my stomach, offering it to my boy -- my Family Guy. He took a long shuddering breath and put his hands beside mine. 

Together we pulled the t-shirt up and over my head -- together so that he knew this was on my terms, acceptable to me, desired by me -- and I stood there in that ratty skirt, a decent white cotton bra all that stood between nakedness and my son's even more eager eyes. I watched them closely as they roved over my body, watched a small fire start to grow inside them, the lust and longing taking flame.




Amnesia



I nodded down to my skirt and Ben didn't need a verbal offer before he almost leapt forward and fumbled with the button and zipper, the garment slipping down my legs within a couple of seconds. 

I was still essentially covered but I felt a heart-racing thrill at being so exposed and a feeling close to fear crept through me, mixing headily with the arousal that was growing so fast inside me -- fear that if my heart beat any faster it might explode. But regardless of my fear, desire won the day.

"Well?" I said softly, my mouth dry, "Can you show me just how you managed to take my bra off last week?"

Ben gave a noise somewhere between a whimper and a grunt, "Oh, mum, yes please!" His hands snaked round my back and he fumbled there for a few seconds before I felt the catch snap open.

I gave a gasp, never expecting even after all that had occurred and all that I had remembered, just how thrilling this sensation was. I looked down, the upper slopes of my breasts now clearly visible as the bra slid down oh so slowly, and I realised -- properly realised -- that my boy was about to see my hard, tingling nipples. It felt like such a gulf between the near-tease of cleavage and the exposure of my true sexuality. I shrugged.

I don't know who gave the loudest sigh as the garment fell and I stood before my boy, breasts bared. Ben's eyes were transfixed on my nakedness for seconds that felt like glorious hours before he looked up into my eyes. The desire there took my breath away, sent the most sensational shiver through my very core, and I fumbled for his hands, our eyes locked.

I took them finally and lifted them, pausing them a couple of inches away from my flesh, imploring my son with my eyes to understand how much I wanted this, unable now to form coherent words. I felt him press his hands lightly forward, his own desire now a blaze deep in his eyes. I let his hands free, let him cup my breasts, let him feel the hardness of my nipples against his dry palms.

The contact was electric, shocking but somehow more like a circuit closing, a joining of entirely natural elements, even while my body reacted with a deep and glorious thrill. I gasped Ben's name, clasping my hands over his to emphasise my desire when he took that single word at first to be an admonishment. When he finally understood, finally squeezed my bare breasts firmly but easily, I released him. 

Remembering the last time hazily, I pushed at the waistband of my knickers and my boy nodded finally, understanding. His hands left my breasts and slid down my sides, tangling with mine momentarily before moving on, snagging in the elastic of my final garment, pulling down firmly.

At last I was exposed fully. The fire in me raced to a whole new height and the fire in my son's eyes had become an inferno. 

He looked at me. Examined every naked inch of my body with those eager, blazing eyes. Sent thrills coursing through my veins as I realised the immensity of what was happening. I was out of control now and I knew that much. And didn't care one little tiny bit.

I sat heavily then sprawled back on the bed, brazen, open, wild and loving it. My Ben stood transfixed, those eyes drinking in the sights before him, eating his mother, wanting her -- and I knew it and adored it.

"This," I managed, "is all yours, my angel."

Ben groaned and with amazing speed stripped off his shirt and then jeans. His boxers stood proud from his muscular young body and my own eyes were now transfixed, eager for him to bare what was causing that proudness. He must have read my eyes, seen the zealousness, the wanton desire. His hands trembled as they grabbed the top of the final garment that stood between us, but they were gripping firmly enough to pull away from his body and then down, gloriously down.

The hard, smooth cock that sprang into view had me whimpering. My son's cock was gorgeous in every way -- straight, proud, hard -- but now it was going to be mine in such a new and wonderfully, naughtily, different way. I was suddenly a slut, a sex-object for him. That's what I wanted at that moment as my legs scissored wide, and love or not, Ben let out a grunt of pure animalistic lust, almost leaping onto the bed, kneeling between my legs.

Feeling his eyes on my naked breasts had been electric, wonderful. Seeing them drop to my naked, exposed pussy was nuclear. 

He was going to touch me any moment. He was going to bring that hard, young cock down to touch me, my pussy. I wanted it.

"Ben," I managed, "Sure I love you, sure we can make love -- but later. Right now let's fuck!"

"Oh mum, yes, please yes!"

My boy, my angel, my Ben, almost threw himself on top of me and I felt the heat of that hard cock crushed against my left thigh as he scrambled for position.

Then I felt it move upwards, felt the hardness of the tip of my boy's cock at my pussy lips, the very opening of me.

"This time," I gasped, "I want to feel it all."

I bucked gently and felt my lips parting. My boy's cock was there, it was almost inside me. I froze, loving the wildness of the moment, adoring the blaze of lust in his eyes, delighting in his matching of my move, his freezing to look into me.

Then he pushed a fraction and I lifted my hips to match. My Ben's cock started to slide inside me, millimetre by millimetre. I groaned and let go, bucking just as he read me and thrust. I wailed as I felt him enter me fully, gasped and groaned as my pussy accepted my boy's hardness, cried out his name as he started to move, whimpered and moaned as my bucking began to match his thrusting.

I stared up at his feverish eyes, a smile forming on my lips even as I grunted with every thrust and buck. "You, boy, fuck real good."

"Oh mum, oh yes!"

His pace increased, his thrusts harder, and I could feel the tension grow inside him.

"You want to cum in me, want to cum in mum?"

"I..."

"Ben," I almost whimpered, "I know you must have cum outside last time because I was covered but... oh Ben, cum in me now!"

His pace went wild, his mouth dropped to my breasts and started to suck, lick and suckle. I could feel his cock stiffen even further and knew that it was going to happen. My own climax rose from nowhere, shocking me, ultimately delighting me.

"Oh fuck, Ben!" 

He lifted his head, quizzical but close to climax, wanting to know what had made me cry out but wanting even more to cum any moment. "Wh-what?"

I gave a delighted squeal, "You... you're making me cum. Oh fuck Ben" My voice rose as the sensation did inside me, "Oh fuck I don't believe it... oh Ben... you're making me cum, making mum cum!"

That released him and I felt a spurting deep inside me as he almost yelled in delight above me, "Oh mum yes! Oh mum cum for me too cum now!"

It was the 'mum' and 'cum' that did it, and Ben's juices deep inside me. I couldn't have stopped that tsunami and had no desire to. "Oh fucking hell Ben! Yes, yes, yes!" My whole body seemed to spasm in delight, and that glorious feeling of release coursed through every inch of me, a full-body, full-on climax that had every muscle twitching, every nerve end firing in delight. I grasped my Ben's butt, pulled him as close to me as I could, bucking and twitching underneath him, glorying in the feel of my son's cock impaling me, pushing the lips of my pussy, my cunt, wide, filling me with his cum as I shook and shuddered.

Stars -- super-novae -- exploded behind my eyes and I might have passed out for a few seconds.

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes and seeing Ben staring at me, a soppy, delighted and delightful grin on his youthful features.

"Mum..." he began and a twitch shook deep in my belly making us both laugh in a way that... well... simply heightened the sensations we both felt.

"Mum," he started again, waiting this time for the little twitch which duly came, "You do realise you're so good looking, don't you?"

I was flattered, delighted really, but quizzical, "That's very nice, Ben, but what's your point?"

"I mean, I would -- any straight guy would -- love to, well, fuck a beautiful woman like you, and that was total wild desire, right?"

"Charmer, but yes."

Ben paused and bit his lip for a moment before continuing, "So that was gorgeous, but a fuck?"

"Well, yes on both counts--" I felt Ben's cock twitch inside me where it still rested, and both remembered and suddenly desired what I thought his next words might be, his next actions. I gave the tiniest buck of my hips, "But now?"

He grinned openly, "Mum," he ignored my little whimper, "I love you in all sorts of ways. And now I want to do it all again, this time making love... if you want that it?"

I lay back, staring into his loving eyes and stroked his hair. "Ben," I said, honestly, "I don't think I could want anything more." I stroked my finger around his lips, licking my own. This hadn't been on my agenda -- the fucking, yes, maybe even love-making but... I leaned my head up slightly and gave his lips a tiny kiss.

Deep inside me, Ben stiffened more. He leaned down, chasing my head as I lay back, he paused, his lips a fraction from mine. Then returned the little kiss. My lips repaid the pressure and he hardened more. Another kiss followed, both of us moving together and the stiffness returned fully.

He whispered something against my mouth, now slightly open. Oh how I wanted him now. My mouth opened wider and I dared another kiss. Ben, my glorious Ben, hesitated then allowed the pressure between our lips to increase, locking our mouths. Then it was his tongue that tentatively passed across my lips and I allowed the tip of my own tongue to seek his. 

If I'd thought that his cock being inside me was electrically thrilling, when our mouths locked properly, kissing fully and deeply, the sensation rose to new heights and my whole body felt the charge. 

The kiss became the prime focus of my entire existence, no matter that my son was locked sexually deep inside my womanhood. We writhed, searching each other's mouths with eager tongues, our bodies locked in that shared desire. 

It was Ben who finally broke that kiss and its wild passion. He rose up on straight arms so that he could look down on my face, my breasts. His smile was such a joy to behold and the light, gentle laugh that followed made my heart surge up in my chest. "Mum?" he asked softly.

"What is it?" I was smiling, delighted with what life was giving me right then, overjoyed at what my son was sharing with me.

"Can I share the bed with you tonight?"

"This bed?" 

"Yes, mum, this one."

I frowned, "Ben, that's very inappropriate for a son, you know?"

It took him a moment or two before he realised I was gently joking with him. "Oh, funny!"

I shrugged and pecked his lips with mine, "I can't abide situations which get too serious you know?"

"Then," Ben thrust deep within me, bringing forth a gasp form me followed by a soft laugh, "you had better tell me whether a laugh means love or lust."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes, mum. Because if you laugh during what we do next I need you to tell me whether it counts as love-making or fucking, okay?"

I thrust my hips up at him and chuckled, "I think you and I might just be exceptional that way. Now make fucking love to your mum, right?"

Ben looked down, smiling. He brought one hand across and caressed my bare breasts, his hips pressing his cock deeper inside me, "Fucking love is just about right, mum. And I think I'm going to love fucking you."

"You'd better."

"Oh yes," his face registered joy and delight, his eyes almost closing, "Over and over and over again."

And so it began...



Amnesia



Colin was in a vile mood when he dropped in to see Trevor. He'd run into Sophie down at the mall and, while she hadn't actually been rude, she'd definitely brushed him off. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? He was a football hero while she was just a nobody. OK, a very pretty and intelligent nobody, but still. She should be flattered that he was trying to chat her up.

"Colin," said Trevor in greeting as Colin wandered into his workshop. "How's it going?"

"Bloody marvellous, if you must know," snapped Colin.

"Wow," said Trevor with a laugh. "Who's been yanking on your chain?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," returned Colin. "What are you up to?"

"Well someone had put your nose out of joint," observed Trevor. "You look like a thundercloud looking for someone to rain on."

"Fucking Sophie. Who does she think she is? All I wanted to do was talk to her and she just brushes me of as though I was a nobody. What's she got against me anyway?"

"You don't suppose it's your arrogant attitude, the fact the you consider yourself god's gift to the female race and your vow to fuck every girl you go out with that might just be overwhelming her a trifle?"

"Ah. You think she might be a bit shy around me?"

Colin considered that. He hadn't really thought about it but possibly he was a bit too hot for Sophie. Still, she'd have to get used to it. He'd already decided he wanted her.

"Gotta be that," agreed Trevor. "It's either that or she thinks you're an incredible moron and is worried that it might rub off. You might let her know that profound moronicness isn't contagious. Speaking of which, I heard you managed to scrape a pass in the maths test."

"It was easy. The coach slipped me the exam the day before so I could go over the questions. I finished up getting my pass. Anyway, back to my question. What are you up to?"

Trevor indicated a bottle of pills on the bench. 

"I'm analysing these. Good practice for my chemistry. You know my cousin works for a drug company? He let me have this sample of a new drug they're working on. It's supposed to be an amnesiac drug. They thought they could use it in place of anaesthesia when they want a patient awake during surgery."

"What's an amnesiac drug and why the hell would you want to be awake during surgery?"

"In some surgery, apparently, they feel they could do a better job if the patient was awake and able to talk to them, giving them intelligent feedback. 

An amnesiac drug is one that makes you forget. Apparently this one works by blocking the receptors in your short term memory. Take one of these little suckers and you'll forget everything you do for the next hour."

"What, you pass out or something?"

"No. That's the beauty of these. You're still awake and aware of what's going on, but as soon as you stop doing something you forget about it. Like, you might decide to go and have a shower. You'll go and have it but as soon as you're dried and dressed you'll forget you had the shower. 

I'm not kidding. Apparently during the human trials they gave a bloke one and left a note on his bed telling not to forget to shower. He saw the note and went and showered. When he came back to his bedroom he saw the note and went and showered again because he didn't remember doing it. My cousin said the poor guy took four showers before the effects started to wear off."

"Geez, you have to let me have some to give to my examiners. I can slip them one, have the exam, they forget about it and I tell them I took it and passed. They won't know otherwise."

"Unless they see your exam paper," muttered Trevor.

The two men talked for a while, discussing the coming football match. It was when Trevor took a bathroom break that Colin got his bright idea. If he acquired one of those pills and slipped it to a certain someone, she wouldn't remember anything that happened during the next hour. That raised some intriguing possibilities. He opened the bottle and slipped a pill into his wallet.

Colin spent the next couple of weeks keeping an unobtrusive eye on Sophie. He was quite shocked when she stopped one day and told him that if he kept following her around she'd get a restraining order and would he kindly piss off.

Fuming, he watched from a distance, finally deciding on a plan. Sophie liked to jog in the evening. After she'd finish jogging she'd drink a bottle of water and then take a walk around the jogging track to relax herself before heading home. 

It proved a simple matter to wait until Sophie had jogged away and then to cross to her car, pick the lock and drop the pill into the water bottle. With the car relocked, Colin moved to an advantageous point and watched and waited.

Sophie returned from her jog, grabbed her water bottle and drank thirstily. Then she set off for her brisk walk around the park. She hadn't gone far when she saw that idiot Colin, leaning against a tree looking at her. She glared at him but didn't speak, just kept walking briskly.

A quarter of the way around the park Sophie saw that idiot Colin, leaning against a tree and looking at her with a funny smirk on his face. She glared at him but didn't speak, just kept walking while trying to ignore a faint memory that seemed to say something is wrong.

Halfway through her walk Sophie was approaching some trees when she saw Colin leaning on one. She ignored both Colin and the little voice that tried to shout, something is wrong.

As Sophie passed under the trees she found Colin falling into step beside her.

"Listen, Sophie," Colin said. "I know you're a little overawed by me but you needn't be. Really. Just give me a chance and you'll see what a nice guy I am."

"Overawed by you?" asked Sophie, feeling stunned.

"Yeah. Trevor explained to me that's what it must be because I'm such a fine man."

"Colin," said Sophie, "Go away."

"Well," grumbled Colin. "I at least tried to do it nice."

Next moment Sophie found a hand clapped over her mouth and she was being hustled behind the bushes by the side of the path. She was appalled at Colin's strength. She'd known that he was a good footballer but had never really thought about his overall fitness and strength. He handled her struggles effortlessly.

Even with one hand on her mouth, Colin had her pinned to the ground and her lower clothes stripped down in very short order.

"Now listen, Sophie," he snapped. "If you try to scream I'll be forced to hit you to shut you up. Neither of us want that, now do we?"

Receiving a shake of the head, Colin released Sophie's mouth. And her voice.

"What the hell do you think you're doing you incredible moron," Sophie snarled. "My brothers will beat you to a pulp for this and my father will put a bullet in your mangled body. And if you accidentally survive the cops will arrest you. There's no way you can get away with this. Let me go at once."

Colin smirked.

"I'm betting that you won't tell anyone," he sniggered. "So we'll just have out little bit of fun and then you can finish your walk."

"You're insane," said Sophie, watching with horror as Colin pushed down his trousers.

She was no virgin. She knew precisely what Colin intended to do and her whole spirit fiercely rejected the idea. 

Unfortunately, a resentful spirit wasn't sufficient to stop Colin. Struggle though she did, Sophie found her legs forced apart, and then Colin was pressing his erection against her soft flesh. She writhed and twisted trying to avoid him, but found his cock implacably forcing its way first past her lips and then deep inside her.

With a groan, Sophie stopped fighting, knowing it was futile now that Colin was fully inside her. All she could do now was wait until he finished, then she was going to bring all hell down upon his raping arse.

Pleased with himself, Colin started moving slowly. He pulled back and advanced, taking his time, letting Sophie get used to him. Her own instincts would work against her and she would be his. He pulled slowly back, preparing for another long slow thrust.

Sophie wanted to scream with frustration. Instead of the quick rape she'd expected, Colin was taking his time, totally familiarising himself with her body. His hands stroked her breasts, causing her nipples to tighten and thrill. His cock plunged into her, little ripples of pleasure flowing from it as it passed, slowly but surely arousing her.

She cursed Colin when she found she was starting to move in rhythm with him. Colin was watching her, seeming amused by the combination of rage and pleasure on her face. He started moving faster and, reluctantly, Sophie moved with him. It appeared that he was going to well and truly fuck her and her treacherous body was helping him.

Even though he was moving faster, Colin was still taking his time. Sophie found herself writhing helplessly under his steady assault, her body almost shrieking its delight in Colin's actions, her hips eagerly thrusting her up to meet him when he descended.

The sweet torment went on and on, with Sophie's rage growing alongside her pleasure. How could Colin do such a thing? He had to have taken leave of his senses. What few senses he had, she thought viciously.

An age seemed to pass before Colin started moving faster. Sophie was panting, for the time being lust was ascendant. She frantically humped herself up against Colin, seeking her climax, wanting things to finish.

Colin crushed his mouth against Sophie's as she climaxed, muffling her scream. It would not do to have someone come on the scene while he was busy. At the same time he was driving into her with everything he had, spilling his seed into her convulsing body.

Disengaging, Colin straightened up his clothes. Then he set to work to tidy up Sophie's clothes. When she came out of her orgasmic daze he wanted her dressed and ready to start walking. Once she was walking again the incident would be over and her short term memory would have no knowledge of it. He chuckled to himself. She'd never even know she'd been had.

Sophie found herself being hustled to her feet and told to start walking. Still slightly dazed, she did so, heading for her car. Colin watched as she reached her car, shook her head as though puzzled, and then drove away.

What he wanted, Colin decided, was another little pill. They could come in useful. He decided to go and see Trevor. 

After some small talk, Colin brought the subject around to the amnesiac pills.

"You know those little forget me pills you had, is there any chance that you could let me have a couple?"

"The amnesiac tablets? Why do you want any of them?"

"Oh, I just thought I might play a joke on the coach. Give him one before a training session and he'll forget all our mistakes and things. We can clown around for an hour and he won't remember it. It'll be a hoot."

"Better let it go. There still under development after all. And the way you clowns muck about you're likely to pull some sort of traumatic stunt that'll bypass short term and go straight to long term memory."

"Long term memory? What do you mean?"

"Well, when you're told something it goes to short term memory and sits there for a while. Eventually it fades away. In a way, these pills hurry up that process. If you keep repeating the action it tends to become etched in your memory a bit firmer, and eventually gets passed along to long term memory. The way you remember phone numbers, for instance. Hear one once and you forget it. Use it all the time and it's automatically called up from long term memory.

Where a traumatic stunt is concerned, the whole thing bypasses short term memory and goes straight to long term. So if you did something real stupid the coach would remember anyway.

What's wrong, Colin? You're looking sick all of a sudden."