0 comments/ 55599 views/ 9 favorites Along Came A Spider By: Awlni "Hey, Sal," the man said with a tone characteristic of someone who has had more than a few too many. "Another one." Sal set the glass he was drying on the shelf and wandered down to the man with a wry smile on his face. He had laid his head on his arms. For a moment Sal thought that he had passed out, but he noticed the bloodshot eyes focusing on a pair of women sitting together at a corner table. "Hey, Jason, don't you think that you've had about enough?" he asked. "Look at those two will 'ya. Fucking dykes. Both of 'em." He looked up at Sal. "Enough? Nope. Never have enough. Not even close yet. Another round, if you please, sir." "Oh, c'mon, Jason. You know I can't do that. Liability laws and all that bullshit. If my boss knew you'd had as much as you have he'd fire me." Jason MacDonald reached for his left pants pocket, locating it on the second attempt. His tongue wandered to the corner of his mouth as he found what he wanted: his keys and his last $100 bill. He put them on the bar and slid them over to Sal. "When I fall off the stool," he said, "call me a cab. Lock the keys in your register and I'll come back to get my car tomorrow night." Jason raised his arms high, barely catching his balance before he oozed off onto the floor. He wobbled intensely. "Look, Ma. No keys." He put his arms down and knocked his empty glass on its side. "Your boss will regret losing that C-note more than you think." He looked over at the women again and scowled. "Goddamned gash lickers..." he mumbled. "You promise you won't try to get them later?" Jason made an "X" over his heart and smiled. "OK. But you need to leave BEFORE you pass out. OK, Jason?" Jason winked at him. "No problemo, amigo. And turn that damn jukebox down, huh? That country shit always gives me a headache." Sal laughed. "It ain't the music that gives you the headaches. It's these," he said as he put the fresh beer on the bar. As Jason lifted the beer to his face he felt a small ripple of fresh air cut through the stagnant smoke around him. He drank deeply, sighed, and turned toward the front door, laughing softly as half the remains of his beer sloshed onto the bar. The woman in the door looked, well, somehow out of place in this neighborhood. She was too well dressed, somehow cleaner than the other patrons scattered occasionally throughout the room. And she carried herself like Audrey Hepburn did in those aristocratic love stories his ex-wife used to make him watch. As she stepped into the bar and allowed the door to close behind her, Jason whistled softly under his breath and turned back to Sal. "Fresh meat." "Yeah," Sal replied. "But you done struck out twice tonight already. That one's Nolan Ryan, Jason, and her fastball's gonna blow you away." "Oh, yeah, she'll blow me alright, but hardly away. The other whores in this joint ain't worth shit compared to her. You know her?" "Yeah. She comes in 'bout once a week or so. She's some kind of a doctor. Ph.D., not a sawbones. I think. She teaches science or something over at Cal State. And an A-Number-One bitch to boot. No emotions. Kind of like Mr. Spock with tits," he chuckled. Jason was startled as she sat at the bar next to him, almost sliding off the stool onto the floor. He tried to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye since turning was a little more than he could muster at the moment. His eyes, alcohol numbed and seeing mainly a red fog, couldn't quite focus clearly enough. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he turned towards her with an exaggerated motion, moving more of his back than his neck. Only a firm grasp on the edge of the bar kept the tidal waves of gravity from pulling him down to shake hands with the floor. He looked her over. She was looking straight ahead as Jason noticed the exposed thighs and the slightest suggestion of panty lines under the skirt. As his eyes continued their slow caresses up her body they paused at the level of her breasts. Her shirt was unbuttoned just slightly below their level, and from the side Jason could see the full contours as well as just a hint of darkness at the center. He looked up at her face. She was of mixed heritage, having some of the classic features of an Oriental face and the long black hair to match, but with an overall Western cast, which, to Jason’s pickled brain, made her the most attractive prospect he had at the moment. She said something to the bartender that Jason couldn't quite understand and he reached under the counter to mix a drink. He placed it on the bar in front of her and she lifted it to her mouth, taking a series of short sips. As she set it back on the bar she turned to look directly at Jason. Unfortunately for him, his attention had once again turned to that hint of darkness obscured by the almost closed shirt. "If you want to say something, then say it. If not, I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at my breasts," she said. Jason blinked quickly, unaccustomed to frankness. "He closed his mouth and swallowed hard, having been caught in the politically incorrect mechanism of ogling a luscious woman," he said, straightening up as best he was able. He extended his right hand in what he hoped was a stable position, and said "I'm Jason MacDonald, writer." She showed no emotion in her face as she looked at his hand and then at his face. "Why were you staring at me?" "I'm, uh, not really used to seeing someone like you come in here. Why don't you let me buy you a drink and we can start all over again?" "I don't think so. I'm not terribly impressed with men who consider me a piece of meat to toss to their pack dog friends. I am not a decoration." "I, uh, did not mean to apply--uh, IMply--that you were," he stammered. "But the bar isn't exactly full, and when a woman such as yourself sits next to a man he's going to look." "So then it's my fault that you were drooling over me? What an interesting perspective. And do you normally blame the pedestrian when she steps into the crosswalk and a speeding truck piles into her?" "No, no, no. That isn't what I was trying to say. Not at all. It's just that you could have chosen a great variety of other accommodating barstools for the evening, and of course I had to look at the person who sat next to mine." "And you were too drunk to stop yourself, right? I've heard that one before,” she said as she turned back to her drink. Jason couldn't help but to notice that the shirt had shifted to give him even a clearer view of her breast. It was lovely, almost sculpted. "Look, I really didn't mean to offend. I've had a bad go of it this week--hell, this year--and I was just looking." He chuckled. "If I were a little more sober I'd stand up and offer my apologies. But I'm not." He belched softly. "So I won't. But look, if you come into a bar dressed like that, you'd better expect men to look." She turned slowly back to him. "Did you ever hear of the concept of privacy, MacDonald? I'm not an ornament. I was minding my own business and I would appreciate it if you would do the same," she said as she picked up her glass and moved several stools down the bar. "What the fuck is her problem?" he asked to no one in particular. The bartender parodied a baseball player swinging at the plate. "Steeeee-rike three. You're outta there." "Whore. That's all she is. Another goddamn femiNazi whore. Did you hear that load of crap? A pretty girl goes off to college and some damn feminist bitch fills her head with all that shit. 'Did you ever hear of the concept of privacy, MacDonald?'," he said, imitating her voice and moving his head back and forth. "Shit." he said, draining his glass. "Well it's whores like her who need a good man. Someone who'll show her what's what. A real man with a big dick." "Uh-huh. And that's gonna be you, huh Jason?" "Yeah. It is. Send the bitch another of whatever sissy drink she's having." He raised his voice an octave. "Cocktail." he said, savoring the taste of the word. "Great name, huh? Concise and to the point. Tell her I wanna say I'm sorry." "Hey, save your money, Jason. She ain't interested. Face it, guy. That beer mug you're holding has a better chance at getting a piece of her ass tonight than you do. You're sloshed. And your breath would kill a cat at a hundred yards." "You ain't my fucking ex-wife, Sal. It's my money, ain't it? She's like all the other femiNazi sluts out there. All she wants is money. Some guy she can leech from and who'll put up with her shit. So some poor fuck who only thinks with his balls gets hung out to dry." He laughed. "Well, tonight I'm gonna have a little fun with her. 'Cause tonight I'm gonna win." "OK. Whatever you say. But watch it. She usually leaves with someone. She's probably had a lot of men. Probably got every cockrotter disease in the book,” he said as he mixed her drink and went down the bar. The woman looked over at Jason when Sal set the drink down in front of her. Jason smiled and mouthed "I'm sorry" before she looked back at the glass. He slid off the barstool with what little grace he could muster and walked down to her, stepping gingerly and holding on to the edge of the bar for support. "I really do want to apologize," he said, pronouncing his words very carefully as he approached her. "And, believe it or not, I don't usually stare at women. I write about them, but I don't stare at them." He held out his hand again. "I'm Jason MacDonald, writer." She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Then why did you stare this time?" "Who knows? Who cares? I'm drunk. I'm lonely. I appreciate beauty when I see it. What does it matter? I promise to try my best to never do it again." She stared at him openly for about thirty seconds before she replied. Jason looked into her eyes and tried diligently to stand straight despite the alcohol in his knees and the outline of her breasts against the fabric. "I'm Rachel Li," she finally said. "L-I, not L-E-E. And while I'm not exactly pleased to make your acquaintance, there may be some hope for you." Jason dropped his hand. "May I sit down?" "If you like," she said as she lifted her drink. Jason made a great effort to climb onto the stool and not look down. He succeeded, mostly. Only a quick glimpse of tasty thighs. "What do you do for a living, Ms. Li with an 'i'?" "I'm an astronomer. I teach at Cal." "Doesn't that take a Ph.D. or something?" "Yes." "That's rare. For a woman to hold a doctorate, I mean. How did you do it?" "Work, MacDonald. Hard work." "Call me Mac, please. Do you mind if I smoke?" "I guess not," she said as she shifted on the barstool. As Jason reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, he noticed that the short skirt was a little shorter, exposing just a hint of white panty covering her crotch. It shimmered in the faint light. Silk? he thought. "So what do you write, Mac?" "Fiction," Jason said as he exhaled a stream of bluish smoke. "Mainstream fiction novels. You know, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back. That kind of stuff. It may not be the classic of American Literature, but it pays the child support," he said with a smile. "That's why I didn't recognize the name. I don't really like those much. When I read, I like to read horror. Ann Rice. Stephen King." "I met her once. Interesting lady." "Why do you write those? I mean, that's not reality. No one waits around for someone to walk up and sweep them away for a quick tumble that ends all their concerns. People think. And some of us go after what we want." "Oh, really," Jason said with a snort. "My stuff isn't reality? And I assume that Stephen King's bogeymen and Anne Rice's vampires are?" He took a long drag from his cigarette, waiting for a reply. "So, enlighted--uh, enlighten me. Maybe I can write a best seller. What do women want?" he asked, taking another drag. "Women want a lot of things, MacDonald. Dinner. A bigger paycheck. A new car. Freedom. Things you probably couldn't handle." "And do they get what they want?" "Usually." "So what do you want right now?" She looked at him a long time before she answered. "A man. One who won't get in my way. Who isn't threatened by a confidant woman who isn't afraid to go after whatever she wants." "Surely a man can't be too hard to find." She looked away. "I thought that once. I've known a lot of men, and the vast majority of them were..." she hesitated, "...inadequate. They all just wanted to get in my pants and control me." She looked back at Jason. "How about you, Mac? Do you want to get in my pants and control me, too?" "Yes and no. Yes, I would like to do that. Or something. But no, no one should control someone else." "This is coming from the man who not more than two minutes ago was making love to me in his mind. Get real." "I am real. And yes, I did that. But that's not control, that's human nature." Rachel shook her head slowly. "Male nature maybe, but not human nature." She looked at him intensely. The eyes were cold. Suddenly Jason had the feeling that she knew everything about him; almost as if every motion he made or every thought in his head set off some type of alarm in her. It was a new feeling for him, am almost erotic feeling of dread, kind of like the fly must feel as it realizes it's caught in a web with no hope of escape. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Mac? Do you want to control me?" She reached over and put her left hand on his groin and squeezed slightly, causing an instant reaction. "Maybe you want to tie me up, Mac? Is that it? Tie me up in silk scarves and do whatever it is that you want to me? Maybe rip off my panties and slam your 'throbbing love muscle' into me? Is that it?" Jason swallowed hard in reaction and pushed her hand violently away from him. He wasn't used to women who could surprise him so thoroughly in only five minutes of conversation. Or women who could read minds. "I'm not really into bondage games," he finally said. "They can be fun as spice. Not salt and pepper, but garlic. Used occasionally and in controlled amounts." "I knew it. You are into control. Anything that shows power over other people. Tell me, how would you feel if I tied you up and did whatever I wanted to with you?" she said, squeezing softly. "Hey baby, whatever floats your boat. What two consenting adults do in their own bedroom is no concern of mine." He laughed. "Unless I'm one of the consentees, that is." "So you wouldn't mind being tied up?" Jason's eyes fell immediately to those dark circles hidden by the shirt. "Yes, I would mind," he said with a smile. "But I might get over it if you let me tie you up later." She moved her hand from Jason's groin and reached into her small purse and tossed a $10 bill on the counter. "Come on," she said as she got up. Jason noticed that the panties were cut high on the sides and in the glow of the neon signs in the window they really did look like silk. And he noticed that her nipples were hard. "Where are we going?" he asked. "To tie you up." * * * * * Rachel got into the car first and leaned over to unlock the passenger door, giving Jason a clear view of the valley between her breasts through the window. It was a meticulously clean black import with a red interior. Jason cursed as he bumped his head on the low roof. He scrunched into the seat, blinking heavily. At first he thought that his eyes were worse than he had imagined, but he finally realized that there was a small latticework crack in the windshield in front of the passenger's seat. The only flaw in the car. As she pulled quickly out of the parking lot, Jason pointed to the crack. "How come you don't get that fixed? Insurance covers that. And they usually don't even charge the deductible," he said. "I like it. Now be quiet. I don't like noise when I drive." The rest of the drive lasted forever as every X-rated video Jason had ever rented played back in the fast forward mode in his mind, pausing at all the good parts. Not only was he battling the increasing apathy of the alcohol but also the hardest erection he'd had since Tina Marie Stuart in the tenth grade. The first condition was self-correcting, he told himself. By the time we get wherever it is we're going I'll be in great shape. The second condition was caused by her driving. He no longer made any pretenses, staring openly at her, focusing mainly on the hem of her skirt. The skirt became shorter every time she used the clutch, finally revealing the dessert-like consistency of her panties. Whore, he thought. The bitch knows it and she's teasing me. I think they really are silk. His imagination painted short wispy curls of dark--black? brown?--hair peeking out around the edges. The seat belt was tight between her breasts, eliminating the possibly of a view. But the nipples were still hard. The first thing Jason noticed as he walked through the front door of the old Victorian was the temperature. It was hot. Stifling. And there was an odor, a dampness. A single trail of sweat traced a curve down Jason's spine and dissolved into the waistband of his pants. She really is some sort of a whore, he thought to himself. Whole goddamned house reeks of it. Musk. Like old milk that just turned. As Rachel shut the door behind them, Jason stumbled over the imaginary doorstep. "Why is it so hot?" he asked. "Because I like it that way. Upstairs," she said, leading the way. They gotta be silk, Jason thought, following her up, catching delicious glimpses under her skirt as her hips moved on each step. The bedroom was impossibly large, dominated by a huge antique four-poster bed in the exact center. It was calling him, drawing him by the balls like an old lover. He felt a new stirring between his legs and had to fight the urge to rub himself. FemiNazi whore, he thought. What a fucking slut. Wonder how many men she's had here. I hope she has rubbers. Jason's mouth opened slightly as he watched her walk slowly--a sensuous, frictionless glide--over to the dresser along the far wall, hips swaying. She set her purse on top softly, pulled her shirt out of the skirt and stepped out of her shoes. She bent from the waist to pick them up and put them in a small cloth bag. She turned to face him. "Take your clothes off." Jason complied, staggering as his balance shifted, cursing as his zipper refused to cooperate. He finally shoved his pants down roughly. He stood there in the faint light, erection pointing towards her. She walked over to a small box in the corner of the room, bent over again and pulled out a small dark pouch. Goddamnit, how I love silk, he thought as she tossed the pouch to him. "Put it on." "What is it?" he asked as he opened it. "It's called a cock ring. The single ring goes on your penis. The loops go under your testicles." "Why?" "I like it. What other reason do you need?" "And what if I don't put it on?" "Then you leave. But," she added with a twist of her head, "if you put it on we'll tie you to the bed. And we'll do things even your perverted brain couldn't imagine. And if you make it through the night you can tie me up tomorrow morning." The apparatus was new to Jason and he had to get her assistance to put it on. The feeling of her hands moving and manipulating him was electric, sending waves bouncing through him and rebounding with emphasis. He shivered. "Now lay down." "Aren't you going to take your clothes off?" he asked. "After you're tied up. No more talking. Lay down." He climbed onto the bed and lay on his back. She walked over to her box again and selected four blood red silk scarves. Definitely silk he thought as she bent over. Gotta be. She bound Jason's arms and legs to the posts. "Try to pull free." Jason pulled hard on all four corners without success. He felt the alcohol in his body and the waves of apathetic darkness once again moved closer to him. He came back as Rachel began unbuttoning her shirt, her breasts erupting from the sides. They were indeed perfect, everything his addled brain had imagined. Firm. With small dark circles around lighter and still very hard nipples. The skirt dropped down around her ankles. Time slowed as she slid her panties down and arranged them carefully on the foot of the bed. Jason's attention moved to her crotch. Black hair trimmed into a perfect triangle. He'd never been with a woman who trimmed there and once more tremors ran free through his groin. She climbed slowly onto the bed, her hips and breasts moving in an exaggerated slow motion. She climbed onto her knees and straddled his face. Jason tried to focus his eyes with intermittent success. Her knees pressed almost painfully into his upper arms. She looked up at the ceiling and lowered herself onto his face. Along Came a Spider When I heard my mother's high-pitched shriek I nearly shot straight up from the living room couch. It was a Saturday afternoon and Mom (whose name is Tara) had spent the afternoon in her flower garden. After coming in and gulping down a glass of water she said that she was going to have a long, hot bath. She lamented that she was grimy and her back ached and her legs were sore. That had been almost an hour ago. When I heard the shriek coming from her bedroom I ran up the stairs. Mom's bedroom door was ajar a few inches. "Mom, what's wrong?" I called out, standing outside her bedroom. "Come in... there's a spider in here, Luke," she said in a shaky voice. I pushed my mother's bedroom door open and stepped inside. Mom was standing beside the bed. She had a mauve terry cloth bath sheet wrapped around her and was clutching the top part of it to her chest with her right hand. The soft towel hugged Mom's slender frame and hung down to her mid-thigh. Her damp black hair shimmered as it brushed over her bare shoulders. Her trembling left hand was extended and she was pointing to the floor, about a yard in front of me. "I saw it run out from under the bed and go over there," she said, pointing. Mom has arachnophobia. If there were a stronger word for it than just a phobia, that would have applied to her too. Occasionally she would encounter a spider in the garage or basement or while gardening. Her resulting scream of terror could practically be heard throughout the neighbourhood. That was a cue to come to her rescue and kill the creepy crawly. Lying on the floor about a foot from my feet were a pair of green shorts and a t-shirt that Mom had worn gardening. I kicked them aside, searching for the spider. Beneath her t-shirt I discovered a pair of panties and bra. I tried to seem indifferent as I surveyed my mother's red panties and pink bra, taking note of the size of the cups which had held her firm breasts barely an hour earlier. From the corner of my eye I saw the spider scurry across the floor, running out from under a small wicker table beside the closet. It was black, perhaps two inches in size. I stepped on it and heard a faint crunch from under my sneaker. I lifted my foot and saw a small gooey wet spot on the hardwood floor. "I got him," I said, turning towards my mother. Mom gave a relieved sigh, still holding a fistful of the towel and pressing it to her damp chest. I looked at her bare skin, just above her unsteady hand. Beads of water were running down her shoulders and upper chest. Below that, I noticed the swell of her breasts pushing out at her tight towel and a few inches of deep, tanned cleavage above the towel. Mom's not built like some of the women I often see on websites, but she's got a nice figure. Her breasts are plenty big for my tastes -- definitely more than my hands could hold. Although that was just my assumption and unfortunately not something I knew from experience, or firsthand, so-to-speak. What really makes Mom stand out from other women are her sparkling green eyes and alluring smile. She has a natural beauty that she doesn't have to work at. She's slender, slightly over a hundred pounds, and a few inches above five feet. There's a lot of sex appeal packed into her petite body. "Oh, thank god you killed the thing..." Mom sighed, then smiled. "Thanks, Honey." Mom stepped over to me and draped her left arm around my shoulders. I felt her fist press against my chest as she hugged me, still clutching her towel with her right hand. I put my right arm around her bare shoulders and embraced her. Her damp skin was soft and I glided my hand down over her arm. Touching her made my cock even harder than it already was. I lowered my eyes to her chest, looking at her cleavage again and how her breasts were now pushed up slightly as she leaned on my chest. I could see almost half of them rising from the top edge of her towel. They were smooth, tanned and looked very firm. Girls half her age would have wished that theirs looked as nice as hers did. My eyes locked on them as I felt her left hip rub across my erection briefly -- probably just long enough for her to realize I was hard, I feared. "I could have never slept tonight if you hadn't have killed that damn spider. I would have worried that he'd crawled into my bed." Mom let out a soft titter, seeming embarrassed by her anxiety. As Mom laughed I felt her rub against my erection again. She froze for a moment, then slid her arm from around me and turned. She sat down on her bed and crossed her left leg over her right. I watched as her towel parted and slid off of her left knee, exposing most of her silky thigh. She looked up at me and for an moment I was sure I noticed a change in her expression as her eyes locked on the bulge in my jeans. I pushed my hands deep in the pockets, hoping to conceal my erection. "Yeah, but you know, now his family and friends will come looking for him," I said. "When they find out that he's dead, they're going to be pissed at you. I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you." I let out a devilish chuckle as I waited for my mother's reaction. Mom had taken a bottle of moisturizer from her night stand and was rubbing some over her bare leg. She looked up, giving me a worried look, then laughed. "Don't put things like that in my head, Luke. You know how terrified I am of spiders." I smiled, watching Mom's hand glide up and down her smooth leg, spreading the milky lotion over her soft, smooth skin. It reminded me of semen and filled my mind with a myriad of lewd thoughts, all concerning her. "Okay, now let me get dressed so I can go down and get something to eat," Mom said, looking up at me. She was smiling, but her expression changed slightly when she noticed me giving her leg a blatant stare. I went back down to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich and some fries. I was eating when Mom joined me a while later. She had put on another pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I pretended not to notice her as she made herself a salad and a sandwich. The sight and sensations of her with only that towel around her sexy body as she hugged me earlier were still vivid in my mind though. I spent part of the evening surfing the Internet in my room, then joined Mom in the living room to watch television for a while. She was sitting on a chair in the corner, legs crossed, flipping through a gardening magazine. "What's on?" I asked as I sat down on the couch. Mom looked up from the magazine on her lap and shrugged. "I haven't really been watching it. I've been looking at this." She held the magazine up for me to see the cover. I sat on the couch and began flipping through channels until I found something interesting. Mom was engrossed in reading and looking at pictures of flowers as she sat silently across from me. It was pleasing to see her so contented. It had been a rough year for her. My father had run off with a younger woman he had met on the Internet close to ten months previous. Neither Mom nor I had any idea about his online activity until he announced his affair to Mom, then asked for a divorce. Mom was devastated. So was I. She blamed herself at first, rather than just accepting the fact that my father was a no-good, deceitful asshole. Eventually Mom came to realize that as much as it hurt, she was better off without a man whom she could not trust. My father moved to Michigan soon after that to be with his mistress and I seldom hear from him -- which is how I prefer it. My father's absence was something that took a while to get used to. I had mixed feelings; I think that Mom did too. I love my father, but I hated him for betraying Mom. I felt torn in two. I'm sure it must have taken Mom a while to deal with her emotions too. For weeks she was despondent, then a promotion at the marketing firm she works for did a lot to boost her self-confidence and overall emotional well-being. She was busy settling-in to her new job and had little time to dwell on her divorce proceedings. Once spring came she could begin gardening (her favourite pass-time). It was as though she had emerged from a cocoon as a new person. I welcomed the metamorphosis. Without my father around it meant that Mom and I spent a lot more time together and relied on one another more than ever for emotional support. As a result we became even closer than before. I began to consider it a blessing that my father had abandoned us. There were nights where Mom and I commiserated about what a prick my father was and others where she sobbed against my chest while I held her as we sat on the couch. Mom also began to rely on me in ways that she had not previously. Whether it was mundane tasks like changing light bulbs and taking the trash out, or asking my advice on household matters and car repairs, Mom began to depend on me more. This made me happy. I would be nineteen soon and gladly accepted any responsibility she saw fit to entrust me with. Now that there was just me and Mom we became as much like friends as mother and son. This sea change resulted in me ultimately beginning to feel for her differently and notice her in ways I had not previously. After much inner turmoil and reflection I admitted to myself that my feelings for Mom had become sexual. I tried to assuage my guilt by convincing myself that anyone else in my shoes would feel exactly the same. Mom is a very lovely women and it's perfectly normal for any straight male to be sexually attracted to beautiful women like her. The twist of fate that made me her son did not exclude her from whatever part of my brain that decides who turns me on. I continued to ogle and fantasize about my mother without any guilt, telling myself that thoughts aren't illegal yet. For the rest of that evening I watched television while Mom read her magazine. My eyes wandered over towards her occasionally, running up her shapely legs to her slightly conical breasts pushing out at her t-shirt. At one point she glanced up as I was looking at her. She smiled, then gave me a puzzled look. "What?" she asked, probably wondering why I was looking her over. "I was just thinking how good it is to see you happy for a change," I said. "I lose all track of time when I'm gardening, or even reading about it," she said. "I want to get back out there tomorrow to plant some tulip bulbs and a few other things." "Just watch out for spiders," I said, enjoying tormenting her. "They hide under warm rocks in the soil, you know." Mom shuddered and gave me a worried look. "Oh, don't tell me that, Luke. My garden is the only place I don't worry about spiders." I was still grinning, but I felt a pang of guilt for taunting Mom. I returned my attention to the television, although my thoughts remained on my mother. A few hours later she stretched and stood up. "Time for bed," she announced. "I want to get up early tomorrow, before it's too hot out." Mom tossed her magazine on the coffee table and walked towards me. "Have a good night," I said, looking up at her. "You too, Honey," she replied. Mom leaned down and placed her hand on my shoulder. Her silky hair grazed my neck and ear as she kissed my cheek. I smiled, enjoying the feeling of her soft lips pressed to me. I slid my left arm around her narrow waist, just above her shorts, and held her tight. She straightened her back, resting her hand on my shoulder, and smiled. Her eyes lingered on me and I kept my arm around her. After a few seconds I began to wonder what she was thinking as she looked into my eyes. "What?" I asked. "Oh, I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you around," she said. "I'm sure you could find someone else to kill spiders for you if I wasn't," I joked. Mom laughed, running her hand down between my shoulder blades. "No, I'm serious, Luke. I don't know how I would have gotten through this past year without you for support." I shrugged. "It was mutual, Mom. We got through it together," I said. Mom thought for a moment, then nodded. She sat down on the arm of the sofa and leaned on my shoulder, still resting her hand on my back. "I know I won't have you around forever -- you'll be starting college in the fall -- but when the time comes for you to move out, I'll be lost without you," she said. "Well, I'll still be living here while I go to college since it's only a twenty minute drive, but by the time I move out you'll have met someone anyway." "What? What do you mean?" Mom's eyes widened and she leaned back slightly. "Well, I'm surprised that you haven't been dating already. But I know you'll meet a guy eventually," I explained. "He can kill spiders for you." Mom giggled, then gave me a serious look. She shook her head. "No. I'm not interested in dating anyone. I think I like being single. Besides, my chances of meeting someone who'd be interested aren't as good as they were years ago," she remarked. "Don't be silly, Mom. Lots of guys would love to go out with you." "Oh, and what makes you think that?" Mom's expression was a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Well... come on... you're really pretty," I said, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. "Thanks, Honey, but I think you're biased because I'm your mom. Most men probably wouldn't see me the same as you do," she asserted. My arm was still around Mom's waist as I held her. I could feel her heat radiate on me and smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. Her right breast was at eye-level to me and only inches away. I stared at it, trying to imagine my mother topless. The feeling of her soft body against my shoulder and the curve of her hip pressed to me was exciting. My hand slid down a ways, so my fingers were touching the upper curve of her ass through her shorts. I pressed a little harder against her firm rump, feeling my cock throb. "If they don't, they'd change their minds if they had have seen you with just that towel on this afternoon." I gave Mom a brazen smile. I knew that my comment was probably inappropriate, but at the moment I was too turned-on to care. Mom let out a soft gasp of surprise. Her eyes widened as she jerked her head back a bit. "Luke...!" she exclaimed. "What?" I asked, feigning confusion at her reaction. "Honey, you shouldn't... I mean, I'm your mother," she blurted out, then relaxed. "Besides, the towel covered everything -- except my legs, and that's no worse than me wearing shorts or a skirt." "It showed some cleavage too," I added with a grin. I knew I had crossed a line with Mom that I had been careful to avoid for many months, but my horniness had made me speak before thinking. "Well, there couldn't have been much showing. I don't have a lot to begin with," Mom shot back. Her eyes met mine and she frowned a little. I gave Mom a faint smile, but kept silent. I thought that disagreeing or trying to assuage her apparent insecurity was probably going too far with my risqué comments. "What -- no smart-ass comment?" Mom said, giving me a teasing grin. Mom's goading surprised me. I had thought that she was uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject. But since she posed her rhetorical question I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to compliment her, even if I shouldn't. "No, it's not that. I just thought that I shouldn't comment, but since you asked for it -- " Mom interrupted me with a short burst of laughter, then cocked an eyebrow. She looked down at me, waiting. "I was going to say you've got enough there." I nodded towards her chest, then raised my eyes to hers, feeling nervous. "Well, I guess it wasn't enough for your father. Before he moved out, I found photos on his computer of the slut he met on the Internet. I guess he wanted someone with bigger ones." Mom sounded bitter and insecure. Her mouth was twisted into a sneer. "Don't feel bad because he's an asshole, Mom," I said. "He's just being greedy." "What do you mean?" Mom asked. She tilted her head to one side, looking curious as she knit her brow. I sighed and tightened my mouth as I looked up at my mother's pretty face, then down to her bust. "I've probably already said too much -- sorry," I mumbled. "Well, don't stop now," Mom simpered. "Tell me what you meant about him being greedy," she coaxed. "I meant that, well, I wouldn't exactly call yours small, so going after a girl with bigger ones is just greedy." Mom laughed hard and squeezed my shoulder tighter. I noticed her breasts shake a bit as her body quivered. My eyes automatically gravitated to her chest. She leaned into me more, resting on her hip. When she moved my hand slid down further over her firm ass. I thought about moving it back up, but left it pressed against her pliant cheek. She either didn't notice, didn't care, or enjoyed me touching her there because she never reacted. It was only when she noticed how my eyes were riveted to her chest that she said something. "Now you're the one who looks greedy," she teased, perhaps trying to cut the tension with humor. I looked up at my mother and smiled. "No. You're everything I could ever want, Mom." A faint cry of surprise escaped Mom's mouth as her jaw went slack. I don't know if it was because of my blunt comment or how I said it. Whatever the reason, she was visibly shocked. She took a deep breath and composed herself. "I... I don't know what to say to that," she said. "How about 'thanks'?" I suggested, then gave her another grin. "Thanks. Hopefully some day you'll meet a girl like me then." Mom straightened her back and forced a smile. I shrugged, then lowered my head. Mom stood up and ran a hand through her hair. Her cheeks were a little flushed. "I have to get to bed for real this time. The sun's not going to wait for me tomorrow," she said. "Have a good night, Mom. I love you," I said, as much to hear her reply as it was the truth. "I love you too, Honey," she said. This time her smile was genuine and loving. I slumped down on the couch, listening to Mom climb the stairs. Even after I had heard her bedroom door close behind her I remained motionless. My mind was in turmoil. I gave a blank stare at the wall as I replayed the day's events in my mind, trying to figure out how the status quo between us had changed. It had changed; I was certain of that -- even if we had not acknowledged it. Things rarely, if ever, change in an instant; at least for the better. There is always a series of events that bring us to a specific point in our lives, although it's usually only in retrospect that we realize it. Since my father's departure Mom and I had slowly, yet steadily grown closer. Our emotional bond had strengthened now that we were all each-other had to rely on. For me, that grew into a desire for her. What I did not know was whether she felt the same, even to a lesser extent. All I knew for sure was that I loved Mom and wanted her. I got up from the couch and trudged up the stairs. My emotions had made me physically tired. Hopefully a good night's sleep would help me think more clearly the next day. ### On my way to the bathroom that Sunday morning I noticed that Mom's bedroom door was open. Usually that only happens throughout the day once she's dressed and gone to work. I poked my head in her room. It was empty. After using the bathroom I went back to my bedroom and looked out my window to the back yard. Along one wall of the garage was a strip of ground where Mom had started a flower garden last summer. She was crouched over the flowers, digging at the soil with a small trowel, transplanting more flowers she had bought a few days previous. Beside her was a wheelbarrow half-full of peat moss. Mom was wearing the same green shorts and had worn the day before and a pale pink tank top. I stared at her ass, pointed in my direction, and her bare thighs. My cock began to stiffen and tent my boxers. I cupped my heavy balls and gave my shaft a squeeze through my boxers. I watched my mother for a few minutes, imagining kneeling behind her and tugging her shorts and panties down so I could slide my shaft in her tight, wet pussy. I decided I had better move from the window before she noticed me, as much as I would have loved to have stood there until my cum splashed over the window pane. I quickly got dressed so I could join her outside. Along Came a Spider Mom seemed happy to see me as I approached. She took a quick look at her watch and smiled. "You're up early," she said. "Yeah -- when I saw what a nice day it was I decided to get up so I could enjoy it," I said, standing beside her. Mom wiped her wrist across her forehead and straightened her back, still kneeling less than a yard from me. Lewd thoughts filled my mind as I looked down at her. The left strap of her tank top had slipped aside to uncover her bra strap, stretched tight over her shoulder. It was light blue and thin. I wondered how the rest of her bra looked. Mom's emerald eyes glistened as she looked up at me. The sun shining on her ebony hair made it shimmer. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and I could not help but smile as I looked at her. A devious smile crept over my face as I pointed to her right. "Hey, is that a spider?" I asked, sounding calm. "What? Where?" she blurted out. Mom dropped her trowel to the ground as she bolted upright. She lunged towards me, letting out a sharp cry of fright that I'm sure the neighbours heard. A second later Mom was pressed to my chest and clutching my arms. I had not expected such an intense reaction from her and was unprepared when she practically threw herself against me, still looking behind, as if the non-existent spider was approaching her to attack. Seconds later my hand was planted on Mom's left hip, almost grabbing her firm ass. As Mom wiggled closer to me my right hand slid up her slide so it was pressed to her left breast, pushing it up slightly. My fingers involuntarily curled around her mound and squeezed. It was firm, but too large to fit my palm. A moment later I felt her stiff nipple push into my palm. Those few seconds of accidentally groping my mother were the most glorious moments of my life up until that moment. When she leaned away and looked down to her chest I snatched my hand from her breast and moved it to just above her hip. "You shouldn't be touching me there, Luke." Mom spoke in a monotone, as though she was too shocked or bewildered to raise any emotion. "It was an accident, Mom," I spat out. "I never expected you to freak out like that when you thought there was a spider there." "You know how terrified I am of spiders," she said, then paused. "I never expected you to grab my boob -- that's what I never expected." Mom gave me a dim smile. "Sorry," I said once more. "It's okay," she said, then sighed. "Just my luck -- the first man to feel me up in ages and it's my own son, so I'm not even allowed to enjoy it." My mother's remark, however flippant it may have been, stunned me. She was smiling, but I knew there was a strong undercurrent of truth to her statement. I was still holding onto her waist, while her hands were just below my chest. "You can enjoy it if you want, Mom. I'll never tell anyone," I said, trying to sound calm. Mom's eyes widened when she heard my comment. She opened her mouth to say something, then slowly closed it and lowered her eyes. "What were you going to say?" I asked. "Nothing." Mom's voice was barely audible. It was as though she was scared of saying what she was thinking. "Come on, Mom..." I encouraged her, trying to sound comforting to soothe her fears. I gently pulled her tighter against me so she could feel my hard-on against her soft stomach. "I... I was going to say it happened too fast to really enjoy anyway," she muttered, avoiding my eyes, then smiled. "Should I do it for longer then?" I was trying to sound facetious, but she must have known that I really meant it. Mom was about to say something, but stopped herself for a moment when I pressed my erection harder into the curve of her lower stomach. I noticed her eyes widen as she looked down at the bulge in my jeans. Her mouth opened and she raised her head to look at me in astonishment. "You're hard..." she said, almost sounding as though she was asking, rather than commenting on it. I nodded, giving her a feeble smile. "Because of me?" she asked in disbelief. I nodded again, this time giving her a brazen grin. I looked down towards her left nipple. It was hard and poking out from her tank top. Even her areola seemed swollen. "Yesterday, in my room... I thought I noticed it then too," she said with a questioning look. "Yeah... I told you that you looked good with just that towel wrapped around you and your hair all wet." I gave Mom a nervous look, knowing I was being far too honest. I waited for Mom to reply. She wasn't even looking at me. Her head was tilted down. After a little while I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Are you mad?" I asked. "No. It just confuses me... if I'm mad at anyone, it's myself," she said, sounding bashful. "Because you like it?" I asked, hoping I was right in my assumption. Mom never answered. All she did was give me a slow nod, then lowered her eyes. I slid my right hand up her side until it was pressed to her breast again. I gave it a gentle squeeze and rubbed my thumb over her hard nipple. I heard Mom let out a faint cry, but I couldn't tell if it was from surprise or pleasure, or both. I gave her reddish cheek a soft kiss as I continued to fondle her breast. "I love you, Mom," I breathed into her ear. "I love you too," she replied as she let herself relax and slid her hands around to my back. When I slipped my hand under her tank top and began moving it upwards I felt her body stiffen. She looked up at me, almost seeming frightened. "Luke... no. Not here in the yard." Mom's pleading voice was almost a whisper. "Where then?" I asked. "Nowhere," Mom asserted, finally able to meet my gaze. My hand was still beneath her tank top, on her waist. I could feel her stomach quiver. I ran my hand over it, caressing her velvety skin. Her breathing had quickened and her eyes were narrower than before. The look of arousal on her face made my desire for her even stronger. "Tell me you don't feel it too, Mom." "We can't give in to every emotion we have, Honey," she replied in a husky voice. Her warm breath teased my neck as she spoke. "Does that mean you have the same feelings as I do?" I asked. "I never meant for it to happen. I swear. After your father left I was so lost and lonely. You were the only one who cared and understood me," she gushed. "I'm so scared of losing you too, Luke. You don't know how much I need you." "You'll never lose me, Mom," I promised. I wrapped my arms around my mother. My right hand was still beneath her tank top. As I slid my hand around to her back, then up her spine, I saw her tank top rise up to expose her stomach. I looked down at her soft skin and wanted to see more. I pinched the hem of her top between my fingers and slowly raised it up, waiting for her to stop me. She didn't. When her lacy blue bra came into view I felt my cock throb harder. "I like your bra. It's sexy," I said. "I bought a few sexy ones hoping your father would like them. I guess he cared more about how much was inside them than how they looked," she said, then chuckled. "What's inside it look perfect." I stared at Mom's dusky nipples and small areolas showing through the lace. When I ran my fingertips over her left one she moaned. "Tell me honestly, Mom. What do you want?" "You," she said in a soft, yet confident voice. "How though?" I asked, wanting to be perfectly sure I fully understood her intent. Mom nibbled on the corner of her mouth for a moment, looking shy. "On top..." she said with a smirk. I bent down and kissed her moist lips. It surprised her and she gasped, then responded by opening her mouth wider. I pinched her bottom lip between mine and tugged at it before releasing it. "Wow..." she gasped. I smiled and ran my fingers down her flushed cheek, then kissed her again. My hard cock was pressed to her stomach. As she moved her hips she rubbed over it, making me even harder. Mom moaned. I began caressing her breast again and pushing the bulge in my jeans harder against her. "You feel so hard," she said, sounding surprised. "Yeah... I am," I groaned. "Yesterday... in my room, when I hugged you I was shocked when I felt it against me." "What did you think?" I asked. Mom giggled. "That you were a lot bigger than your father." I took Mom's hand and pressed it to the bulge in my jeans, then began moving it over my hard-on. "Am I?" I asked. Mom inhaled sharply as I moved her hand over the outline of my shaft and balls through my jeans. "Luke... wow," she hissed, then let out a girlish laugh. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. A few seconds later she removed her hand from my crotch. "I better stop before someone sees us," she said. "Come here," I said. I took hold of Mom's hand and began pulling her towards the house. "Where are we going?" she asked, tugging at me to stop. "Inside." I gave her a sly smile. Mom had stopped, as though her feet were anchored to the ground. "No... Luke, Honey..." she implored. I stepped closer to her, until our bodies were almost touching, still holding her soft hand. "What?" I asked. "You know what," Mom shot back. "No," I said. "Luke, I am your mother," she said. "This... us... it's crazy. "Are we in love or insane then?" I asked. "You know I love you with all my heart," she told me. "And I love you too, Mom. Nothing can ever diminish that; only make it stronger," I assured her. I could tell by the tortured look on Mom's face that she was having a crisis of conscience. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her cheek, then kissed down to her neck. She tilted her head to one side and moaned, holding onto me. "You make it hard for a girl to say 'no'," she sighed. I pulled my mouth from her tender neck and looked into her eyes. "You can if you want, you know," I said. "I know. But I don't want to," Mom said, then sighed once more. She clutched me tighter and buried her face in my neck. "Let's go inside," she murmured. As soon as Mom and I were in the kitchen I backed her against the counter. I ran my hands up her smooth thighs, sliding my fingers as far under her shorts as I could to feel her firm ass. She was holding on to my shoulders, her hips swaying gently while I stroked her legs and ass. "Lock the door in case someone comes over," she said, darting her eyes towards the door. I locked the door as quickly as I could, then took Mom by the hand. Neither of us said a word as we walked up the stairs. I was excited, but also nervous. I wondered if she felt the same. Once we were standing beside her bed I kicked my sneakers off and pulled my t-shirt over my head. I dropped it to the floor. Mom smiled and ran her hand up my chest, then down the trail of hair in the centre leading to my jeans. "Your turn," I said. I tugged at Mom's tank top, pulling it up towards her chin. After she raised her arms I pulled it off completely and tossed it aside. I slid my hands over her soft skin and around back. I unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms. Her breasts were even nicer looking than I had imagined. Her dark nipples were thick and hard, rising from her firm breasts, swaying slightly as she moved. "You're beautiful, Mom," I said in a thick voice. Mom blushed, giving me a modest smile. I pulled her to me and wrapped my lips around her left nipple. I sucked on it and ran my tongue around her areola as I squeezed her breasts in my hands. She moaned and glided her hand up the back of my neck to hold my head tight against her bosom, moaning into my ear. When I began unbuttoning her shorts and tugged at the zipper Mom watched, seeming nervous. I slid them and her white panties down over her hips. I smiled as I saw her thin bush come into view. Mom's shorts and panties fell around her feet. She stepped out of them and kicked them aside. "Your body's perfect," I said, not taking my eyes off of her moist lips, peeking through her dark hair. I ran my hands up her thighs and over her ass, giving it a hard squeeze. Whole I was exploring Mom's exquisite body with my hands she began unfastening my jeans. Once the fly was down she tugged at them, easing the waistband of my underwear over my rigid shaft. It swelled and rose once my underwear was around my knees. I tugged my jeans the rest of the way off and pushed them aside. Mom cupped my heavy balls in her palm and fondled them with her fingers. She ran her hand along the underside of my stiff cock, then squeezed it, feeling it throb. The tip of her tongue was running over her bottom lip as she stared at my shaft in her hand and gave it several slow strokes. "Your cock is so nice," she said, sounding mesmerized. "Yesterday when I felt it poking into me I wished I could play with it." Mom sat down in the edge of the bed and pulled at my hips, bringing me closer. When she gripped the base of my cock and ran her tongue over the reddish head I moaned. I held onto Mom's shoulders and gripped them tighter when she wrapped her warm, wet lips around my cock and began sucking. She slid her mouth down, engulfing my rod and sucking harder as she moaned. After a little while Mom removed her mouth from my cock, seeming reluctant. She smiled up at me. "I could do that all day, but I bet there's somewhere else you want to put it," she said. Mom slid back towards the middle of the bed. She bent her legs and parted them, running her hands up the insides of her soft thighs as she looked up at me. The soft folds of her wet pussy parted. They were shiny wet with her musky juice. Mom ran her fingers over them and pressed down on her swollen clit. She moaned and dipped a finger inside. "Come here, Honey," Mom said, reaching her hands out towards me. I crawled between my mother's open thighs, running my hands up them as she tugged me by my hips. Her skin was soft against mine as she wrapped her legs around mine, urging me closer. She stroked my cock and rubbed the head of it over her clit. I pushed, pressing it harder against her swollen button and she moaned. I could feel her juice on my cock now, making it slide over her wet pussy. "How long have you wanted me?" she asked. "Almost since right after Dad left," I confessed. "Want to take his place, do you?" Mom asked with a smirk. "Yeah..." I said with a sigh. "Then claim me, Honey. I'm all yours from now on," she said. My throaty moan drowned out Mom's as I pushed my cock in her. She was tight and it took a few seconds for her to adjust to me inside her. She gave my cock a squeeze as I sank it deeper inside her. Her pussy was hot and very wet. I gripped her shoulder and started pumping my hips. Mom began to moan louder and breath faster. She writhed beneath me and pushed back with her hips. Her breasts began to shake as I pushed harder and faster, feeling my balls slap against her. "Oh god... Luke, your cock feels wonderful... fill me up, Honey... fuck my pussy... I've needed this for so long," Mom said in a series of gasps. The look of pleasure on my mother's face made her more beautiful than she ever had before. I kissed her as I kept thrusting deep in her. "You're beautiful, Mom. I love you so much," I said. Mom wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my lower back, letting me get in her deeper. Her pussy was dripping wet now. I could hear the sounds of my shaft pumping in and out of her tight walls. I could feel myself getting closer, but I did not want our love making to stop. When Mom cried out and squeezed my cock I knew she had come. All it seemed to do was make her even more horny. "Keep going, Honey... shove that thick cock in me... make me cum again... god, you make me so horny," she cried out. Mom reached down and began rubbing her clit. I was too excited to speak. I could have never imagined that having sex with her could feel so wonderful. When she came for the second time, harder than the first, I pulled out from her. I stroked my slick cock, watching her play with her dripping pussy. "Cum on me, Honey." Mom ran her hand over my thigh, watching me jerk off as she rubbed her clit. "Oh god, Mom... I love you," I cried out as I shot a stream of cum over her quivering stomach. Mom began spreading my thick cum over her soft skin. While she did that I sprayed more over her. It landed on her stomach and hand. She licked it from her fingers, moaning as she sucked them into her mouth to clean my cum from them. Mom was still playing with my sticky cum when I laid down beside her. I rolled over on my left side and pressed the length of my body against hers. She was soft and warm. I draped my thigh over hers and kissed her watery lips. She smiled. "You were marvelous," she said, running her hand down my flushed cheek. "So were you," I said. I kissed her cheek, then her breast. "I could have never imagined it being this good." "Have you tried imagining it?" she asked with a grin. "Hundreds of times." I gave Mom a shy smile and chuckled. "What else have you imagined doing with me?" she asked. "Give me a little while to rest and I'll show you," I said. Mom rolled over to face me. She kissed my mouth and smiled. "Take your time," she said. "We've got the rest of our lives." Along Came a Spider My wife surprised me and my friend a couple of weeks ago. My regular Wednesday night routine is to meet up with my mates in my local pub, watch the live football (soccer) on the big screen and drink a ridiculous amount of beer until we are asked to leave. I normally walk home with my friend, Dave, who lives next door and we will either call into his house or mine for some more drinks before calling it a night. Now Alison, my wife, has been giving me a hard time about how much I drink on a Wednesday for the last couple of years. She complains that by the time I come to bed I am so drunk that I am good for nothing. I keep promising to cut back a little but when we get in the swing of drinking and having a good time I just can't make myself stop. Dave has no such problem as he has been divorced for as long as I have know him and he has been single for at least the last three years. On the night in question Dave and I returned to my house, made ourselves comfortable in the TV room, cracked open a couple of cans of 'Stella Artois', turned down the lights and started watching the highlights of the match again on satellite TV. I had to use the lavatory. I made my excuses and went upstairs to the bathroom to relieve myself. As I came out I saw Alison standing there, by our bedroom door, with that naughty look in her eyes -- the one that says she is in the mood for sex. I noticed that she was wearing the short robe that I bought her for her birthday. She only wears it when she wants to turn me on. It is so short that it really shows off her legs well, probably only just being long enough to conceal her panties. She told me to come straight to bed as she has a treat for me. I explained that Dave was downstairs and we had just starting to watch the highlights of the match. She looked angry and frustrated and asked me to get rid of him and come upstairs. I explained that we would not be long and asked her to wait patiently until the highlights had finished. As I made my way back downstairs I glanced back at her. She stood there, looking at me in a strange way and said 'Maybe I will just embarrass you into coming to bed earlier!' She undid the tie string around her robe and quickly flashed it open revealing her totally naked body to me. I continued downstairs thinking that I would enjoy giving her a good fucking when the match finished, a little confused about her comment about embarrassing me. I sat down again in front of the TV and got stuck back into the Stella. I explained to Dave that Alison was a bit pissed off at me for getting drunk again and that we would have to break things up as soon as the match ended. After about five minutes I heard Alison coming down the stairs. I was suddenly haunted by her threat of embarrassing me -- what was she going to do or say now? She came into the room still wearing the short robe and stood in front of the TV screen. With the light of the TV behind her we were able to see the outline of her sexy body through the semi-transparent material of the robe. I looked over at Dave and saw his eyes nearly popping out as he tried to take in every detail of the sight before him. I looked back at Alison and saw the look she shot back at me. It was a look of defiance that said she was not prepared to give in easily. She asked me, in front of Dave, if I was coming to bed soon. I again replied that I would not be coming up until after the football was finished. This was turning into a battle of wits and I wasn't going to give in. She then said that if I was not coming to bed yet that she would watch a movie in the bedroom instead. She turned around to face the TV screen -- we keep all our DVD movies stacked neatly on the bottom shelf of the TV cabinet, below the TV itself. What she did next took me and Dave totally by surprise. She looked at the DVD titles for a second or two then bent right over to pick out the one she had selected. Her bare ass was revealed to us both! As she started to straighten up the DVD fell from her grasp and she bent down once again to retrieve it, this time taking longer as she fumbled to grasp it. I watched Dave look at Alison's ass with delight and as I glanced back at her I noticed that her pussy lips were also partly visible. This knocked the stuffing out of me! I didn't think she would go this far to make me change my ways. When she got back up she turned around, with the DVD in her hand, and faced us. I was horrified. In the effort of bending over twice in the flimsy robe, the belt had loosened and her pubic hair was exposed to us. She acted like she didn't know! She left the room and returned upstairs. I told Dave to leave and turned off the TV. As I walked Dave to the front door we heard a scream coming from our bedroom. I shouted to Alison 'What is it?' She replied 'Come quickly there is a spider in here!' 'Oh shit' I thought. I am terrified of spiders. Alison, however, is not afraid of spiders. What was she playing at? She shouted again 'Send Dave up if you are too scared to help me.' No second invitation was needed. Dave was sprinting up the stairs like Ben Johnson on medication! I followed him and when I got there found Alison standing facing us, shaking violently with a look of panic on her face. I looked around for the spider but saw nothing. 'Where is it?' shouted Dave. Alison replied that the spider had fallen off the ceiling and had landed on her shoulder. She thought that it had scurried away under her robe. 'I can feel it crawling on me!' she exclaimed. 'Somebody get it off.' I stood back, wanting to help her, but frozen at the thought of the spider. Dave stepped forward. 'Where is it?' he asked. 'Try and find it.' She ordered. With that Dave just thrust his hand into the opening of her robe. I saw the outline of his hands as they searched over her tits. 'I can't find it.' He said. With that she seemed to get into more of a panic and said 'Oh for fuck's sake, Dave, just open the robe up and find it.' Dave quickly undid the belt and the robe fell fully open. I felt winded as I saw my wife stand naked before by neighbour. He had a really good look at her for a second, her tits, her nipples, her pussy, everything, then, looking down at the floor, he saw the spider. He reached down and picked it up as Alison re-tied her robe. He held up the spider -- it must have been the smallest fucking spider in the world! Alison thanked him for 'saving' her and bade him goodnight. I walked him to the front door, again, and told him not mention a word of this at the pub! As I returned to the bedroom Alison stood there with a look of triumph on her face. 'There, I told you I would embarrass you into coming to bed early.' She proclaimed. I laughed back at her 'Don't think you've won, you sexy bitch. I loved every minute of it! And, if I thought you would do it again I would bring more of my friends back. Now get that robe off and let me fuck you!' She did, I fucked her and it was fantastic. After the excitement wore off, I thought about what happened and I have stopped going out on Wednesday nights! Wimp or what? Along Came A Spider He began to lick, moving his tongue first around the outside, then impatiently darting to the small knob he found near the top of his reach. He noticed that the triangle above her opening was not perfectly black. His eyes were drawn to a small red tuft slightly below the center. The shape was eerie; almost like some type of an X. Jason felt a vague uneasiness, an unidentifiable sinking feeling which began to coalesce in the pit of his stomach and and in his balls. Something was just a little bit wrong. His confusion began to take flight just as she reached back and began to stroke his erection with her hand. The feeling disappeared as Jason began to focus on this new pleasure. As Rachel began to shake he began to move his tongue rapidly in and out of the opening, becoming lost in her universe. She came silently, her body quivering, slowing down only after eternity passed. She climbed away from Jason's face and off the bed. "Hey, what about me?" he asked loudly. She hissed at him. "No sound." She walked back to the dresser, opened a drawer, and placed a large candle on top. She then walked--skated--over to Jason's discarded clothing, pulled his cigarette lighter from his shirt pocket, and went back, lighting the candle. Climbing back onto the bed, she placed her fingers inside herself and turned toward Jason's erection. As she touched him, Jason exploded. He watched, fascinated, as heavy whiteness traced an arc onto those perfect breasts. Rachel looked over at him. "Too soon, Mac. You're going to have to do better than this." She reached over and pulled a tissue from a box on the nightstand, wiping first herself then him. Great ass, he thought. As his erection began to wither, she placed it in her mouth. He started to harden as he noticed that she was masturbating, moving her fingers in and out of herself with increasing urgency. As he again became fully erect he closed his eyes and felt her reposition herself over his waist. His mouth moaned and opened slightly as she took him inside. Suddenly, he felt cloth stuffed into his mouth. His eyes flew open--full moon wide--and he began to panic. Rachel began to make slow circular movements with her hips as he tried to scream through the cloth. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Remember, Mac. When rape is inevitable you may as well lay back and enjoy it. And you should never have gone up to her apartment alone." Jason began to thrash in his prison. Her silken web. Blood red and white. She closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. A loud moan escaped, but Jason was not completely sure which one of them did it. Her hips became frantic; staccato bursts of energy rebounded through him. He tried to remove the wad in his mouth with his tongue. It vaguely had the aroma so fresh in his mind and he wondered silently if she had used the white panties, which had so effectively snared him. Briefly he wondered what silk was supposed to taste like as he felt himself tighten and the velvet tingling of orgasm, and reality left him as he shot deep inside of her. When he returned Rachel broke out into a deep laugh and sneered at him. It was the first time he had seen any emotion in her face, and the picture frightened him. "Look at me, Jason Andrew MacDonald. I want you to see what you just fucked. Surprised? Yes, I know your real name. And I know all about the femiNazi whore bullshit you were slinging with that scum bartender. But he may be next, you never know." She paused. "I'm many things Jason. A lover. A woman. A predator. But never a whore." She laughed again. "And I'll be the most dutiful wife you can imagine." Jason's eyes opened wide as her pubic hair began to grow. It inched upward toward those--breasts?--and climbed over the tops of her thighs. It's definitely red in the middle, he thought. He noticed small nubs growing from her ribs. And those--breasts?--had flattened out and become a dark shell. Her head began to shrink and change, settling into a small triangle, some perverse pubis, with multiple eyes on top. Jason began to thrash on the bed and tried to scream through the gag. "Scream all you want," the mouth said in a--whispering? spidery?--voice. She had fangs. "There's no one else around here to listen. All that's left is dust and a few dried up husks." Jason's panic became a terror as he again focused on her crotch. A whimper escaped from him and fled on gossamer wings. That small tuft of red hair had become an hourglass low on the creature's abdomen. The terror became absolute as he realized just what that hourglass meant and the new appendages on the sides began to stroke him back into hardness. "It's nothing personal, Mac. It's a law. A law of nature. All creatures must reproduce. And all creatures must feed." She continued to stroke him, coaxing. New--pleasure? fear?--convulsions ran through him. "And I do want to thank you for my wedding present. Your seed will allow me to give birth. There will be dozens of us in a few weeks. I'm a black widow, Mac. You know why we're black? It's the color of mourning. Now I'm married and I'm mourning my loss of freedom. But you see the red hourglass above my sex? It's for you, Mac. Because your time is almost up, my husband. See, a black widow always eats her mate. The ultimate mind fuck, huh lover?" Jason's mind exploded as her--head?--lowered towards his groin; he didn't understand how he could be getting hard at a time like this. Never three times in one night before. Not now! he screamed in his mind. Whore! Slut! Traitorous dick. He began to thrash violently but her weight and the silk scarves held him tightly. In the center of her web, he thought. Images of flies went through his mind. Flying, then trapped, then husks blowing free in the wind of the thunderstorm. Her mouth surrounded him and he became fully erect. He felt himself readying for one more orgasm; the last one. He felt the teeth penetrate his flesh. His hips thrust upward, outside of his control. His balls collapsed, pumping emptiness. He felt his seed, his blood, and his soul began to seep. He laughed, dying. Of course they'd be silk.