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Cause And Effect

By: MondaysChild



For Beth who, but for the grace of God, missed her train that day.

And for those who didn't.





Cause And Effect

As the plane set down on Terra Firma I let out the breath I felt I had been holding since we had begun our descent and sent a silent prayer of thanks up to the Gods of Aerodynamics for allowing me to survive the flight home.

I'm not normally a nervous flyer, and have in fact been aboard an aeroplane more times than I can count offhand, but after the holiday I had had it wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest if bird strike had caused an engine to catch fire or a wheel fell off during landing.

At thirty three and after four years of evening study and two failed attempts to quit, I had finally passed my degree in English Literature and to celebrate I had taken out a loan and bought a return ticket to New York. I'd always wanted to go there. Everyone I knew who'd been had said how amazing it was – the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, The Empire State Building... Even Ground Zero took my breath away. Strange that what is in essence a building site, could serve as a reminder of garnering strength from such tragedy and the overwhelming power of good over evil. 

It was the fourth day of my week long holiday and I had stood at the window on the first floor of the shopping centre for a while, staring out at the work going on below me. The builders were shifting rubble and dirt from one pile to another, so sure in their task, despite the fact that it looked as if they were getting nowhere fast. Eight years had passed since America had been attacked, and four years since London, but I remembered both so well and standing there that day, watching as the suited businessmen and women rushed past on their way to lunch or another meeting and other tourists took photographs and paid their respects in muted voices I found myself leaning all of my weight against the glass in front of me and fighting back tears.

I don't know how long I had stood like that for, but it must have been some time because when the security guard placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and told me they were closing the centre for the day I shook myself out of my reverie and saw that day had become twilight and the builders were packing up to go home.

The evening had come on so fast that I could see my reflection in the glass of the window. My blue eyes looked misty with unshed tears and my footballers frame hunched over as I stared sightlessly out into the New York evening. I was apparently a good looking guy, with the quintessential English blonde hair, blue eyed appearance, but right now I felt as shaky on the outside as I was on the inside.

The guard smiled at me again and asked if everything was okay. I answered with a nod and used my sleeve to wipe a renegade tear from my eye.

"Does everyone react like this?" I asked jokingly as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other in embarrassment.

"Not everyone," he replied, his accent strong with local flavour. "But it affects people on different ways. Don't usually see grown men crying these days though." He said with a smile to ease the barb.

I looked at him for a moment, absently appreciating what I saw and at the same time feeling ridiculous for becoming emotional in public. I cleared my throat. "Something in my eye," I replied, all British stiff upper lip.

"Sure," he smiled again and it was infectious enough to have me grinning in response. "Listen, I really do need to lock up now but if you want to take a couple more minutes..."

I shook my head. "It's fine. I should be heading back to my hotel. I was going to try and beat the queue for cheap tickets to a show tonight," I looked at my watch, not surprised to find it was almost seven, "I guess I can try again tomorrow."

"Are you here on your own?"

I hesitated, briefly remembering all the warnings my family and friends had given me about holidaying alone, then I pushed them aside. He didn't look dangerous. In fact, he looked...sweet. I nodded.

The guard studied me for a minute, his eyes betraying the fact that he seemed to be having an inner struggle, and then he spoke again. "Well if you don't have any plans for tonight, why don't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could use one."

A voice came from the bottom of the staircase and we both turned to look at the intruder. It was another guard, this one around fifty or so and from his girth it looked like he enjoyed his morning pancakes a little too much. "Carl, let's go," he called out, barely even looking in my direction. "I gotta get home." then he stalked off into another area of the mall. Carl turned to look back at me and I quickly nodded.

"Great, then let me finish up here and I'll meet you outside in twenty minutes." He said, and with that he moved off down the staircase and disappeared into the back of the shopping centre.

It took me a minute or so to get moving myself, the residual tide of emotions that had grabbed me just from being outside Ground Zero mixed with the surprise of meeting someone who wanted to take me out for a drink was a little overwhelming and at first it was all too much to take in, but eventually my feet started to move of their own accord and I found myself walking down the stairs and leaving the mall to wait outside for Carl.

I was leaning u against the fence surrounding the building site when he came outside fifteen minutes later and for the second time that day I felt a little breathless. As he stood for a moment under a streetlight and looked about trying to find me, my eyes worked fast to take in his six foot frame, messy black hair and olive skin. I placed him at about thirty or so. The security guard uniform had done nothing for this man but out of uniform he was truly a sight to behold; all natural muscle and sex appeal. 

As he caught my eye and walked towards me I had to remind myself in a very stern voice that until his orientation could be determined it was strictly hands-off and even if he was gay, he may just be being friendly to a tourist. But the way he unconsciously licked his lips has he drew closer had me practically panting and suddenly all maudlin thoughts that had earlier occupied my mind were gone and my mind became focused entirely on the carnal.

He smiled as he reached my side and my cock twitched uncomfortably in my jeans. "You all set?" he asked and I nodded mutely as we walked off towards the centre of the financial district.

Carl hailed a taxi as soon as one appeared in our view and, with the ease of someone who had lived here his entire life, gave a fast address to the driver whilst simultaneously muting the small but irritating television in front of us. "So you should probably tell me your name," he said as settled back into the cracked black leather seat, "especially since you already know mine. Gives you an unfair advantage."

I grinned and had to bite my tongue for a moment to stop myself from responding with an obvious flirtatious comment. Instead I simply replied, "It's Matt." I looked about me for a minute, glancing at the interior of the cab and at the rapidly rising meter. "You always use taxis?"

"No," he laughed. "That'd be way too expensive. Jerry and I both live in Brooklyn and he's only five minutes from me. We carpool." 

I nodded and relaxed back into my seat for a while, enjoying the view of Manhattan at night as we moved through the streets. I could feel Carl in the seat beside me, sense every move that he made and it made me nervous as hell, but our silence wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest and I was almost sorry when the taxi pulled up outside a bar in Greenwich Village and the driver turned to look at us impatiently.

I grabbed my wallet from my jeans pocket and made to take out some cash but Carl stilled my hand with his. "I got this," he said as my heart leapt to my throat and the air within the cab seemed to thicken. I looked down at our hands, his laying gently on top of mine, and then slowly moved my head to look at Carl's face. His eyes seemed to have darkened slightly and his cheeks looked flushed but it was dark in the car and as he moved his hand away to pay the driver, I convinced myself that it was just my own overactive libido playing tricks on me.

We entered a bustling Tapas bar called Meson Felipe and settled ourselves into a table in the corner, mercifully away from the noisy young New York fashionables who were hovering around the bar calling for " More Pinchos!" and "More Sangria!"

It was only a little after eight in the evening but I had already come to realize that nightlife starts early in the Big Apple and some of the twenty-something's throwing down twenty dollar bills and demanding dishes they would never have considered eating five years ago were already well on their way to becoming absolutely steaming drunk. I smiled at Carl who simply shrugged and said "Trust me; this is the best Tapas in town."

A waiter appeared as if out of nowhere and I ordered myself a Cervesa, leaving Carl to look after the food. Being somewhat shy of trying new things I had never eaten Spanish food before, but there was something about this man that made me trust his taste implicitly.

Carl ordered about six dishes and the waiter disappeared amongst the throng of bodies, leaving us alone in our quiet corner of the restaurant. "So what do you think of New York?" he asked once we had our jackets off and were settled comfortably.

I paused for a moment before I began, "It's not what I imagined," I replied slowly. "I've only seen Manhattan so far, but I've only done the tourist stuff and I get the feeling I'm not seeing the real America."

Carl nodded in understanding. "You're from London?" he asked and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"How did you know?"

He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I understand what you mean. Everything you've seen so far has been designed for you, not for the locals. If you want to see New York, you have to leave Manhattan and go to Brooklyn, or Queens, The Bronx," he smiled at my reaction, "It's not as bad as it's made out to be. Areas of The Bronx are very nice. They even have a zoo. It's no different from London really. There are parts you just don't go to at night or on your own, or on your own at night," he finished with a laugh that lit up his whole face.

The waiter reappeared with our drinks and I took a hefty swig of my beer before placing it back on the table. "Go easy on that," he said with another laugh, "Beer over here is a lot stronger than your weak-assed crap!"

I eyed him suspiciously, "My powers of deduction tell me you spent some time in my fair city," I replied as I took another drink, this time much smaller and more controlled.

Carl nodded. "I was there last year for four months. My ex got a job directing a Fringe production and I went over for moral support." He looked down at his bottle for a second before continuing, "It was supposed to be six months but one day I came home to find one of the actors in my bed and after a massive fight, we split up. I came home to Brooklyn the next day." 

"I'm sorry," I murmured and unconsciously moved my hand towards his. I stopped myself in time and pulled back quickly hoping he hadn't noticed.

He nodded and smiled again, his expression all but forgetting the conversation. "It's fine," he replied. "Guy was an asshole for cheating on me. Who needs that, right?"

"Right," I replied definitively.

Then I registered exactly what he had said and once again, my heart was in my throat.

Thankfully the food arrived at that moment and Carl was so busy sorting through the Spanish fare that I had time to compose myself and get my pulse rate to slow back down to somewhere around normal. 

He was gay. There was a God and he loved me. Well, either that, or he was teasing me with the gorgeous hunk of American Pie who probably didn't have the vaguest interest in me, but either way I was just really glad to be out in that moment with Carl enjoying Tapas and Cervesas on a Friday night in Greenwich Village.

"So what is it and how do I eat it?" I asked I looked down at the masses of food in front of me, none of it recognizable.

Carl grinned and began to point at each dish in turn. "This is an Omlette, this is Tuna in a Caper sauce, we have Albondigas, which is meatballs, Asparagus in garlic, Shrimp and Crab meat stuffed Pimento, Mussels in white wine and Adobo Pork Chops." He looked at me for a moment. "You like fish, right?"

I laughed and nodded before attacking the Tuna with my fork and stuffing a piece in my mouth. "Oh my God," I moaned as I closed my eyes and allowed the full flavours of the fish and Capers to wash over my taste buds, "That's incredible."

I opened my eyes again to go for more food, but instead found Carl staring at me, his dark brown eyes almost black with desire. "What?" I asked as I began lick my lips slowly, "Did I get some on my mouth?"

Carl shook his head and cleared his throat. "Have some Asparagus," he said, but his voice sounded rough.

I smiled, and used my fork to spear some of the vegetables and place them on my plate. I may be new to New York and I was uncertain at first, but I'm not entirely naive. At that moment I knew he wanted me, so I decided to pull out all the stops.

"I love these things," I said as I picked one up at the end and placed the tip against my lips, slowly pushing it into my mouth before sucking off all the garlic butter. I continued this with the entire stalk, licking and sucking at the garlic sauce before eating the vegetable, never taking my eyes off the man in front of me and getting a heady thrill watching his breath quicken and his eyes widen every time my tongue poked out lick my lips.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked innocently as he shifted in his seat once more. I tried to do the same, more subtly so that he wouldn't notice I was as aroused as he was, but it was difficult and the glint in his eye betrayed that he had seen. He nodded and smiled, this time wickedly and my pulse rate kicked up a notch.

Without speaking he plucked a meatball from the plate between us and regarded it for a moment. Then, looking directly into my eyes, he moved it to his mouth, and began to lick the sauce off the meat. My cock became impossibly harder and my balls ached for his magic tongue. I moaned quietly as I watched him, unable to resist as he reached over the table and fed the meatball to me, closing his eyes as I spent some time licking the remainder of the juice from his fingers.

"Can we go?" I asked roughly once I had allowed him to take back his hand.

He shook his head. "Eat," he commanded and gestured wildly at the food. I groaned, not wanting to play this any more when it was obvious we both just wanted to be naked and fucking wildly somewhere way more private than this.

I piled food on my plate and started shoveling it in my mouth, not caring what it was because my head was filled with images of Carl under me, on top of me and oh God, In Me.

He was laughing as I ate, taking his time with small bites of food and washing them down with his beer, but I didn't care. I was desperate for him and I suddenly became concerned that he had somehow managed to calm his raging hormones down. Well, I couldn't have that. America could not be allowed to beat England at this particular sport, so I placed my fork on my plate with finality, reached across the table and grabbed his hand once again.

I held it for a moment, turning it this way and that, before raising it to my lips and drawing his index finger deep into my mouth and sucking hard enough to feel the blood pumping underneath his skin.

"Oh Lord," he choked out as I swirled my tongue over the tip before taking his finger in all the way to the knuckle. He seemed to enjoy my parlour trick because his eyes went black with desire and he almost dropped his fork on the floor. "Let's go," he said breathlessly.

I slowly released his finger, sliding my tongue along the sensitive underside as I let it fall from my mouth. "Actually, I wouldn't mind another beer," I lied cheerfully. Carl growled.

"I'll get the cheque," I stammered, incredibly aroused by the noise he had made.

"No need," he replied as he leapt to his feet and put his arm in the wrong sleeve of his jacket, "It's my family's restaurant."

I was stunned for a moment. "Sorry?"

"Can we please talk about this later?" he replied as he righted his coat and pushed mine at me, "I really just want to go somewhere and fuck you right now."

That was a pretty convincing argument, so I followed him swiftly out of the door, only half paying attention to the waiters and bar staff as they bid him goodnight, slightly more so to the handsome maitre de whose cheek he kissed before promising to call him later.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we moved out into brisk March evening air. He didn't reply, just took my hand and pulled me on, the tightening of his grip the only indication that he had felt the same sparks on contact as I had.

Five minutes later and I was starting to wonder if another taxi wouldn't have been a bad idea, when he pulled me into an alleyway between a liquor store and a Chinese restaurant and pinned me up against the wall. His six foot frame stood slightly above my five foot ten, so he had the advantage when he pinned my hands to the side and bent his head to capture my lips in a kiss so powerful that my ears began to ring.

Despite the strength and urgency of the kiss, I could feel the softness of his lips against mine, and my knees went weak as his tongue licked against my teeth begging for entry. I acquiesced, and as soon as I did, he angled his head for deeper penetration and grabbed the back of my head with one hand. With the other he released his grip on my wrist and moved to cup my butt, bringing our raging erections against one another and causing us both to growl into the others mouth.

He pulled back too soon and I whimpered with dissatisfaction as he released me before grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the street once more. 

"Come on," he said as he continued to lead me, now practically screaming with need, down the road, "it's not far now."

He wasn't lying. Within minutes we were standing outside a very smart looking hotel and Carl was adjusting his jacket to make him look more respectable. Not wanting to shame him, I did the same.

"Good evening Mr Sanchez," the doorman said as he pulled the door open and allowed us entry.

I looked around me at the lobby, forgetting for a moment why we were here. The place was incredible. Soft lighting and softer music gave an almost ethereal glow to the room, with light blue walls and blue leather sofas of a slightly different shade just begging you to curl up in them.

At the front desk, a smart and very attractive young woman was checking in some French guests, speaking their language, and when their business was complete the bellboy appeared silently and whisked their bags away. Once assured of their satisfaction and the couple were in the lift on the way to their suite she turned to us and spoke, her accent soft Canadian.

"Good evening Mr Sanchez," she looked at me, "Sir. Would you like your suite?"

"Yes please Allison," Carl said with a calmness that even I had started to feel since entering this beautiful hotel.

Allison nodded politely and from under the desk produced a white key card. "Is there anything else sir?" she asked as she handed him the key.

"No, thank you," he replied with a smile and turned towards the lift.

I nodded my thanks to the desk clerk but her attention was already on the telephone that had started to ring.

We stepped into the waiting lift and Carl pressed the 'P', taking us to the top floor. "Don't tell me your family owns this hotel too," I joked as the lift began to move.

"No," he replied in all seriousness. "Just me."


Cause And Effect



I gaped at him for a moment but his eyes were focused entirely on the buttons on the wall as they rose. There were fifty floors in this hotel, including the Penthouse, and we were on the fourth.

"What's the matter?" I asked when the silence became unbearable.

"Nothing," he replied through gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists. "I'm just trying really hard not to tear your clothes off and fuck you right here in this elevator."

"Oh," I said stupidly, my inner-calm now a thing of the past and my erection now at full salute. I cleared my throat. "And why not?"

Carl licked his lips and turned to face me, his eyes blazing fire that threatened to set us both alight. "Camera," he said simply.

I looked up and to the left and, sure enough, a small camera was looking down on us from the corner of the lift.

"That's a shame," I muttered as I looked at the winking red dot above me, "I've never done it in a lift before."

"Oh God," Carl moaned and turned to glare once more at the buttons on the wall.

I tried to take out minds of things for a moment. "So tell me why you work as a security guard and live in Brooklyn when your family own a restaurant and you own a hotel," I asked, my voice shaky and my fingers itching to grab his ass and pull him up against me.

"Normality," he replied simply, not taking his eyes from the wall. "I was born wealthy and when my parents passed away my sister and I were left everything. I got sick of people only wanting to know me because of my money. She's happy being the centre of attention but I'm not."

"And the guard thing?" I persisted, glad that the conversation had turned less carnal.

"I like to people watch," he shrugged, "and the viewing platforms for Ground Zero are the perfect place to do that. You see a lot of honesty when people view tragedy. And in a city like this, honesty is hard to come by."

I nodded mutely for a moment, lost in my own thoughts but realizing with some astonishment that I could easily fall for a man like this.

Then the air thickened again as he turned to look at me and all thoughts of money and power and sensibilities left as he pulled me towards him and kissed me passionately.

"What about the camera?" I gasped as we came up for air.

"Who cares?" he muttered as he rubbed my aching cock with the palm of his hand, making me moan and writhe beneath his touch. "Besides, I can have security destroy the tape tomorrow."

Arriving at the penthouse suite was a strange experience because it took up an entire floor. The lift opened to a solitary door which Carl used his key card to open before dragging me inside and slamming behind him.

I didn't have time to take in the scenery. 

"Can I get you a drink?" Carl asked as he pulled my coat from my shoulders and dumped it unceremoniously on the carpet, "Coffee, tea?" He tore at my belt, "I know how much you Brits like tea." Then I found myself pushed up against large rectangular desk, my jeans around my ankles and my cock in his mouth.

I gripped the edge of the desk and the crystal vase of flowers adorning it rocked dangerously as he began to blow me in earnest. I could feel his hot mouth surrounding me, his tongue tormenting me from inside the moist cavern before he released me only to increase the torture with licks to the tip of my penis that had me gripping the back of his head and whimpering in ecstasy.

He sucked me back in again and began to deep-throat me with such fervour that I was sure I would orgasm right then and there, but just as I was going to let out a warning he let go again with one final lick to the head that had me squirming before rising to his feet and returning his attention to my clothes.

"You have a beautiful cock," he said as he pulled my jumper and tee shirt over my head. He moved to lick and suckle at my nipples, grasping my butt cheeks in his hands as he did, "and you taste amazing."

"Take your clothes off," I moaned as he took one nipple in his mouth and tugged gently, his smile seeming to give away his awareness that the sensation went straight to my groin. "I want to see you."

He obliged, despite his apparent reluctance to stop touching me, if only for a short while, and within moments he was naked. I took that time to remove my trainers, jeans and boxers so that by the time he returned to me we were both naked, and I could see by his impressive erection that he was as aroused as I.

Carl really was beautiful naked. His toned body showed that he took care of himself, but didn't scream gym bunny, his chest was completely hair free, which has always been my preference and part of my beauty routine too, and his cock, though intimidating to say the least, did not have me running for the door at the first thought of having him inside me. All in all, he was really quite something to behold.

He grabbed my head in both hands and kissed me deeply, searchingly, as we ground our cocks together in desperation before pulling away and stepping back. "I need to get something from the bathroom," he murmured as he ran a thumb over my hardened nipple, "stay right there." And with that he disappeared off into another room.

I remained where I was, backed up against the table and desperately trying to control my breathing but he returned within seconds and I really didn't get much of a chance to calm myself down.

I glanced at the items he placed on the table beside me and my pulse increased again. Beside the bottle of lubricant he put a box of ten condoms. "One of the perks of owning the place," he said with a smile, "is that you can leave stuff behind when you check out and no one throws it out."

I nodded as I picked up the box and turned it over in my hand. "And how many times do you plan on fucking me tonight?" I asked nervously.

"Put it this way," he replied as he gently took the box from my tight grasp and placed it back on the table, "I have more of these in the bathroom." And with that he pressed himself against me once again and began kissing me in earnest.

I moaned as he grabbed my cock in his hand and began masturbating me in time to the stroke of his tongue against mine. I did the same to him and within moments we were both writhing against each other in desperation. 

Abruptly he pulled his hand away and tore his lips from mine. I looked at him, startled.

"I gotta have you," he said breathlessly. "Next time we'll go slow. In bed or someplace else more comfortable than this, but right now..." he groaned again and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before turning me around and placing my hands on the desk before me.

Before I even knew what was happening, Carl was on his knees once again and I was writhing and bucking against the tongue invading my anus. I moved my torso forward slightly on the desk, placing my forearms flat to the elbow and spreading my legs on the floor so that he could have better access, then I closed my eyes and rode that talented tongue for all it was worth, not even caring when the vase of flowers rocked dangerously one too many times and went crashing to the floor on the other side.

Blindly I reached out for the lubricant and held it out behind me, muttering intelligible words and pleas for him to go further, to use his fingers, to just please fuck me and he must have understood because the bottle was taken from me and within moments I felt the first indications of pressure as one of his fingers joined his tongue.

I could sense his desperation was as bad as mine because no sooner had one slicked finger entered me than another joined it, then another. No time was taken for me to become used to the intrusion but it didn't matter to me because I was riding on a wave of complete hormonal madness and nothing else mattered.

I felt him stretch me, work my muscles for a moment as he licked my testicles, showing me once again that his demonstration back in the restaurant had nothing on reality, then he was tearing open the box of condoms and ripping one of it's foil rapper.

There was a moment of stillness as he lay his head on my back, his breath coming in short, heavy gasps that were warm on my spine by grew colder as the air filtered down to my buttocks, then "Are you ready?"

"God, yes," I replied as I looked over my shoulder. He pressed up against me from behind and kissed me deeply, grabbing my cock and manipulating another moan out of me before moving back into position.

I felt the first stab of pain as he pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle inside me, but I had long ago learned to love this sensation as a prelude for the overwhelming pleasure that was to come. I gripped the edge of the table tightly with one hand and Carl's hip with the other, "Please," I said when he stopped for a moment, "Please."

He pushed again, this time with more determination and the pain increased slightly, but I pushed against him and controlled my breathing and before I knew it I could feel his balls against me. He relaxed for a moment, allowing me to get used to the sensation of his cock inside me. And what an amazing sensation it was. I felt like I was filled, like I was in heaven and it was this curious, beautiful American man who had taken me there. I bucked slightly, indicating my desperation to continue and he got the point.

Carl rose up and pulled out slightly, only to plunge back inside me again, eliciting a deep groan from somewhere deep inside me. "Oh, yes," I murmured and so he did it again. Harder this time, and faster and harder and faster until he was pounding into me with desperation and I, who had found his rhythm, was pushing back against him with just as much.

The table beneath us creaked in annoyance but held firm as Carl fucked me as he had promised and fleetingly I tried to think of a time when it had been that good. Perhaps it was because of my current position, or perhaps it was simply that this man was the best I had ever had, but right at that moment and, if I am honest, since that moment, I could not think of any lover with whom I could compare.

He had somehow managed to locate my prostate and was hitting it with every stroke. My knees were weak and I could hear myself keening and pleading incoherently. I could feel my orgasm approaching and I cried out wantonly as Carl reached around to grab my cock. "I'm gonna come," he moaned in my ear as he thrust inside me once again, "come with me."

I obliged and as I felt his cock pulse and harden impossibly further inside of me, I came hard, shooting streams of semen all over the beautiful mahogany desk and covering Carl's hand. He cried out as I came and joined me in release, his movements stilling for a moment before he began to thrust again, this time small, short movements designed more to aid his release than to pleasure us both.



Neither one of us could move for a few minutes after that, so we stayed as we were, me leaning heavily on the table and Carl slumped over my back. Only an audible groan from the desk jerked us both unceremoniously back into reality. "We should move," I murmured quietly, reluctant to break the spell. "We already broke a vase and I for one don't want the owner to kick us out for trashing the hotel room." 

Carl laughed quietly behind me and heaved himself upright, his now limp penis sliding out of me and causing me to shiver slightly at the loss. I turned as he removed the condom and tied it off before tossing it in the bin by the desk.

"You want a shower?" he asked as he looked at me, strangely shy for a man who had just blown my mind.

I nodded and smiled reassuringly, "Then we can see just how comfortable that bed of yours is."

My light tone elicited a hundred watt grin from him and he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bathroom.



-*-

"You okay?" The man beside me asked as the seatbelt sign switched off and the cabin crew rose to open the doors.

I looked at him and nodded. "I'm fine."

He smiled at me doubtfully and rose to open the overhead locker, then looked down at me again. "It's just that you're white as a sheet."

I cleared my throat. "You'll think it's stupid..." I began.

He sat down again. "Try me."

"Well, I just had the most incredible holiday of my life. I saw things I never thought I'd see, did things I only dreamed of and," I paused, unsure.

"And?"

"And I fell in love."

The man smiled gently. "All sounds great to me. So what's made you so scared of flying?"

I blushed then, suddenly ashamed of my own stupidity. "It's all too perfect. I was waiting for the something bad to happen to balance it all out, you know?"

He nodded in understanding. "Like a plane crash. Karma."

"Right," I looked at him sheepishly. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

The man cocked his head and looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before taking my hand in his and bringing it to his mouth for a gentle, reassuring kiss. "Not so stupid," Carl replied quietly, "But we're safe now."

I looked into those beautiful brown eyes for an endless moment, before leaning over and kissing him deeply.

Karma be hanged, I thought.

So long as they don't lose our luggage.

The End.





A/N: When writing this I came to notice the irony surrounding Carl's job and Matt's fear of flying. I was going to alter it but on re-reading I realised the two are mutually exclusive and I hope I have treated the tragedies both in America and London with the respect they deserve.



Cause and Effect



I want to say right from the start that the animal who sired me was a pure unadulterated one hundred percent bastard drunk. You will notice that throughout this account, not once do I refer to him as my father. Others may have done so, but not me, because I refuse to think of him in such terms. Now I'm not saying any of this to excuse what happened, but I think it goes a long way to explaining why it happened. As the title of my narrative suggests, it is all about cause and effect.

He had got Mom drunk and pregnant the day she became legal in our state. Although neither of them wanted to, both sets of parents insisted he "do the right thing", so they married. We lived with mom's parents, supposedly so we could save enough for a down payment on our own house. At least that was the general idea, but although he had a good job as a mechanic, most of his money went on gambling and drinking with his pals. Mostly on drinking. When I was about nine Granddad started noticing things going missing from his work shed, and when he saw my old man going into a pawn shop with an electric drill under his jacket, he gave him two weeks to find somewhere else to live, although he said me and Mom could stay for as long as we needed to. Eight days later my grandparents were killed when their car ran off the dirt road into a tree, and Mom inherited the house, so for the first and only time we were clear of debt.

Soon after this he showed his true character and turned into the vicious bastard I grew to hate. It seemed as though he was only waiting until her Dad could no longer protect her, because within weeks he began to use my Mom as his own personal punching bag. Any time the slightest thing went wrong, it didn't matter what, a fight with his boss, an inattentive driver cutting him off, or whatever, he would come home and beat the daylights out of her. For the first fourteen years of my life I can hardly remember a single day when she didn't have bruises somewhere. She had a superb figure, but she had to hide it, and the bruises, with high necked long sleeved blouses and shapeless dresses. As I approached my teen years I started trying to protect her, but that backfired, because he would hammer the crap out of me, and then give Mom an even worse beating. 

At the onset of my puberty he started to find even more ways to hurt and humiliate her. Many were the times he would rip off her clothes, and force her to show me the angry weals and scratches on her back and breasts, and even the insides of her thighs. After he tired of this sport, he would order her to get upstairs and get ready so he could, in his words, "fuck the shit" out of her. Woe betide her, and me, if she didn't do as she was told instantly, because you could guarantee by next morning we would both be sporting fresh evidence of his sadistic brutality. He was always careful of course not to hit me where it would show, in case my teachers noticed and called in the child welfare authorities.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but by the time I turned eighteen, the sight of Mom's tits and pussy was having the effect I'm sure the bastard intended, and as soon as they went upstairs I would dash to my room, and with the sound of their brutal fucking ringing in my ears, I would beat my meat, imagining it was my loving cock going in and out of her pussy instead of his punishing weapon. Imagining it was my gentle hands on her wonderful boobs, instead of his cruel gouging fingers. Imagining her screams of pain and fear of him were really moans of passion for me.

As I progressed through my teens and my apprenticeship I began to fill out. The hard physical work added muscle, and although I was as terrified of him as Mom was, I began to dream of being able to find the courage to dish out some of his own treatment to him. The last straw came when I was almost nineteen. He had just humiliated her again for the umpteenth time and ordered her upstairs as usual, but when she turned to obey he changed his mind. "On second thoughts, I'll show the pansy here what a real man does with his woman." Mom opened her mouth to protest, but he punched her in the head and forced her face down across the dining table, scattering the remains of our evening meal. This was more than I could stand, and without thinking of the possible consequences I picked up a chair, and smashed it across his head just as he jammed his filthy cock into her. He collapsed in a heap, and after fishing in his pockets until I found his keys I did my best to restore her modesty with the remnants of her clothing, then hurried her to the car. 

I had no idea where to go to, but when we were passing a motel it occurred to me that maybe I could book her a room until I could clear my head enough to work out a plan to keep her safe. I had enough cash in my pocket to pay for a single room for Mom, but until I could get to my secret stash I could sleep in the car. 

Shit for brains had made me leave school early and start an apprenticeship as a bricklayer, which for those who aren't familiar with trade training means that for the first couple of years I was the general gofer and dogsbody for the real workers. In between clearing up their mess and learning what I could from watching, mostly I ran errands like going to the shop for sandwiches for morning and afternoon breaks and lunches. Often they would tell me to keep the small change, which helped a lot because the rat who fathered me made me hand over my weekly pay packet unopened. I hid this away in a tin in a fork of the tree in the garden, in the hope that one day I would have enough to get my Mom away from him.

I paid for a room and pulled the car up as close to the door as I could, so nobody would see her exposed body through the rips in her clothes, but once we were inside I realised I had another problem. Mom needed something to wear, and I was out of cash. The thought scared the shit out of me, but the only option I could see was to sneak back to the house and try to grab my stash. Leaving her to get some rest, I got back into the car and headed for what used to be our home. Even though it was in Mom's name, I knew neither of us would ever feel safe as long as he was around, and as I drove I thought of how hard I had hit him, and so help me I found myself hoping it had been hard enough to kill him. I knew if I had I would end up in jail, but so long as Mom was out of harm's way it would be worth it. Then it occurred to me that when the cops saw the bruises and scars on us both, there was always a slim chance that a court would rule it as self defence. 

To be honest, I didn't really care. I just wanted Mom to be safe. If he was unharmed and caught me, there was still enough hate and anger in me to grab what was left of the chair and try to finish the job. But that was a last resort, - first I would try to slip in through the back gate and reach the tree. I parked the car well away from the house, and felt a familiar knot of fear grip my bowels. In a sudden afterthought I slipped a wheel wrench inside my waistband just in case, and approached as unobtrusively as I could. I thought I was home and dry as I edged in through the back gate, then I froze. He was standing in the yard with his back to me, feeding Mom's clothes on to a huge fire. I turned to retreat, but a gust of wind caught the gate and slammed it shut.

He spun round. "Come here you chicken shit faggot bastard!" he bellowed. "I'm going to kick the fuck out of you. I'm going to kick the fuck out of your slut of a mother too, when I get hold of her." He rushed at me and I stuck out a fist defensively, amazed when he ran straight into it nose first. He took a step back, then snarled and came at me again, arms spread to catch me. Surprised that I had been able to hit him so easily, I swung again putting every ounce of my weight into the punch. This time he staggered backwards, so I hit him twice more and followed up with a heavy boot to the crotch. With an agonised scream he clutched his balls and fell to his knees retching. Ten years of hate welled up, and I grabbed him by the hair, turning his face up to hit him again.

Then I saw it. It was in his eyes, just as it had been in Mom's eyes every day for years. Pure, stark naked fear. It didn't make me feel good to know our positions had reversed, and now he was afraid of me, but it sure as hell felt great knowing that he was feeling what he had made me and Mom feel for far too long. He put his hand up as if to ward me off, and tried to shake his head. "No. Please. Don't hit me again. I'm your father."

In that instant I knew I would never be afraid of him again. Instead of delivering the punch I intended, I gave him a contemptuous back handed slap. "You're no father of mine." I sneered. "You may have fucked my mother, but you've never been a father. You've never even been a real man. You're just a snivelling wife beating cowardly bully, who had the good fortune to stick his filthy cock into a woman who was always too good for you." Pushing him to the ground, I put my foot between his shoulder blades and plucked his wallet out of his hip pocket. He must have had one of his rare wins on the horses, because there was what looked to be close to a thousand dollars in there. Pocketing the wad of notes, I added his credit card for good measure, then threw the empty wallet at him. I stomped on his back as I stepped over him, and turned to look down at him. "I'm going to check on Mom. Don't be here when I get back." He looked at me in a sullen vestige of defiance, and I delivered a kick to his ribs for emphasis. "Do you understand? You – will – not – be - here. And if I ever see you again, or you ever come near Mom again, I – will – kill – you. Have – I - made – myself - clear?" The words were punctuated with kicks to make sure the message got through his thick skull. All the fight went out of him, and he cowered as he nodded in defeat. 

As I walked back to the car I realised that I had forgotten all about the wheel wrench in my waistband. This made it all the more satisfying. What I had done I had achieved with my bare hands, and I couldn't believe how easy it had been. Never until now had I ever raised a fist to anyone, and it made me sick to my stomach to know I was capable of such violence, but nonetheless I knew that it was the only language animals like him would ever be able to understand.

On the way back to the motel I stopped off and bought Mom a few clothes to wear. She was sleeping peacefully on top of the covers when I opened the door, and I spent a couple of minutes studying her. Now that she was out of harm's way she looked ten years younger. Her tattered blouse had fallen open exposing her breasts, and the rip in her skirt was closed just enough to conceal her crotch. Without realising I was going to do it, I carefully moved the fabric aside, and my heart filled as for the first time I was able to look at her tits and pussy without her feeling ashamed and humiliated. It didn't matter that she was unaware of my gaze, and I convinced myself that she wouldn't mind much even if she was awake, because she knew she was finally safe and that I would never hurt her in any way. The surprising thing was that, although I was now seeing from close up what I had only ever seen from a distance of some feet, I felt none of the familiar stirring in my groin. It was almost as though I was watching a sleeping infant.

I don't know how long I stood looking down at her, but eventually I pulled the rags of her clothes together to cover her, and went to make some coffee. Easing myself down slowly, I sat beside her on the bed, watching her face as I sipped the hot drink. Occasionally a faint frown would crease her brow, and I longed to lean forward and kiss it away, but was afraid of waking her. After a while her eyes opened, and she looked blankly into the distance. Moments later her gaze focussed on my face, and she sat up, wrapping her arms around me.

"Oh, Petey, You're OK? I was so scared. I thought he would...."

I shook my head. "No Mom, I'm fine. We don't have to worry. He will never bother either of us ever again."

Her eyes opened wide with horror. "Oh my god... He isn't...? I mean you didn't...? I mean you hit him awfully hard and I thought...."

I shook my head again and smiled grimly. "No Mom, nothing like that. I just convinced him that it was in his best interests to get the hell away from us and stay away."

She hugged me closer in relief, and I became uncomfortably aware that her shredded blouse had given up the fight, and her bare breasts were pressed tightly to my chest. I stood up abruptly and indicated the shopping bag. "Um, Mom," I said trying to sound casual. "I got you a couple of things. You know, a dress and panties and a nightdress. I didn't get a bra because to be honest I wouldn't know a 'C' cup from an egg cup. Why don't you get ready for bed and I'll see you in the morning? I'll see if I can get another room, otherwise I'll sleep in the car so you can have some privacy."

"Don't go Petey," she whispered rising from the bed and coming closer. "I feel safe with you here."

I looked down at her breasts and tried to take my mind off the faint stirring in my pants. "I can't Mom. Not with you like this." I tried to cover her again.

She smiled faintly and shrugged. "What's the point in doing that Petey? You've seen them often enough so what difference does it make?"

"I know Mom, it's just that when I see those marks I want to kiss them better. I want to kiss all of you better Everywhere he's ever hurt you I want to kiss it better."

"You have no idea how often I've wished someone would do that," she whispered. "Just to take away the hurt and humiliation."

The words were out before I could stop them. "I'd like to do it now."

Leaning away slightly she looked into my eyes. "I know Petey. I think I'd like it too."

I eased her back gently until her head was resting on the pillow, her dark curls framing her face, and she wriggled out of what was left of her clothing. Very carefully I touched my lips to the bruise closest to her shoulder. I moved slowly, because there were so many ugly marks to kiss, but as I progressed across the slope of her breast I cupped it in my palm and took the soft bud between my lips. She sucked in a long breath as her nipple stiffened, and I pulled my hand away quickly. "I'm sorry Mom, I didn't mean to..." 

"It's OK, honestly. It just took me by surprise that's all." I couldn't be sure if she was talking about what I had done, or the way her nipple had hardened so suddenly. In all the countless times she had been forced to show herself to me, I had never once seen her nipples stand up, and now all I could think of was how it completed her wonderful breast. I tried to think how to say what I was thinking, without it sounding wrong, but she spared, or maybe she increased my embarrassment. "I'd forgotten what gentle felt like, and you reminded me how nice it is. I don't mind if you want to touch me, because I know you would never hurt me." 

I leaned over her again and quickly kissed the other nipple, pleased to find it was as hard as its twin. I only lingered for a moment, and then continued kissing the bruises. As I moved steadily down her body, Mom spoke up hesitantly.

"Petey?" I lifted my head to look at her, but her eyes were squeezed tightly. "Petey," she repeated, "I don't know if I can ever enjoy sex again after all that's happened, but I'll try if you want me to." Much as I had fantasised about doing what she appeared to be suggesting, I knew it would be no good for me unless it was good for her too, so I hesitated. Then when I thought of how quickly her nipples had stiffened, I figured there was a possibility and I eased her legs open. 

Now that I had convinced myself to at least try to satisfy her, my cock responded and I parted the soft hairs surrounding her pussy lips and touched my tongue to her clit. At the first contact she tensed, but I persisted, nibbling her clit, running my tongue up and down her slit, and occasionally poking my tongue inside her. Very slowly Mom began to relax, and as she became moister I thought I detected a slight movement her hips. I vibrated her clit with my tongue in encouragement, but could get no further response other than a slight increase in her secretions. Mistaking her body's natural reaction to stimulation for a sign of arousal, I freed my cock from my pants and moved over her. I positioned the tip between her pussy lips, but as I was about to push into her she pressed her hands against my chest.

"No, Petey, no. I can't. I thought I could but I can't. One day, I promise, but right now it's too soon."

I was so desperate to fuck her that I was tempted to carry on regardless, but that would have made me as bad as him, so I just rolled onto my side and held her. After a minute or so her hand crept down and curled around my still hard tool. "I'm sorry Baby, I didn't mean make you like this, but at least I can help a little." Her fingers began to slide up and down my shaft, and I pushed my hips toward her. Gradually her grip tightened, and I gasped as my cum shot out over her stomach. She squeezed out the last few drops, then kissed my cheek. "One day you can put this inside me, but right now I need time."

Her vulnerability still showed in her eyes so I just nodded, content to wait until she was sure she was ready, however long it might take. The drama and stress of the last few hours finally caught up with both of us, and we drifted into a healing slumber, my arms still wrapped around her, and her fingers still curled around my spent cock.

When I woke Mom was up and showered and making coffee. She was humming softly to herself, and I lay quietly on the bed watching her, enjoying the jiggle of her unfettered boobs. I could see the outline of her panties through the dress I had bought, and my morning stiffy reared its head as I remembered how good her pussy had tasted last night. Jumping off the bed I went and showered, jerking off under the warm spray. 

When I came out, she handed me a mug of coffee and hugged me. "Um... Petey... Um..." I had an idea what she was thinking, but I waited for her to say it. "About last night... I feel a bit weird about what happened. I mean I know it was supposed to be wrong, but it doesn't feel wrong. At least not to me."

"I know Mom, I sort of feel the same, but the thing is if we didn't love each other it would never have happened."

"I guess so. I'm sorry I wouldn't let you put it in me, because I know how much you wanted to, and I promise that if it ever does happen it will be with you. It's just that I need time." She kissed me lightly. "Thank you for not insisting."

"Mom," I replied quietly, "if had carried on after you said no it would have been rape, and I would have been no better than him, and I will NEVER be like him. You have been through too much already, without you having to fear your son on top of all that. If ever you do let me do it with you I will count myself blessed, and if not, it will never alter the fact that I love you more, and in more ways, than I could ever love anyone else."

After we finished our coffee and I had rinsed the mugs, we handed in the motel key and drove home. We were both apprehensive as we approached, because there was no way of being sure that my warning had been as effective as first seemed. Erring on the side of safety, I parked half a block away from the house, and telling Mom to lock herself in I went the rest of the way on foot. The place was silent as the grave, and after checking to be sure I went back for her. He had certainly been busy before he left, because my room was wrecked and all of my clothes shredded. Although it was an annoyance, it was no more than that, and I considered it a small price to pay to have him out of our lives. Showing Mom the wad of cash and the credit card I had taken from his wallet, I bundled her into the car and drove to the mall. For almost the whole day we wandered around, with Mom like a child in a candy store, as she looked excitedly at all of the clothes he had denied her. Within three hours we had a trolley full of packages, and I dumped the maxed out card in a rubbish bin. If someone picked it up and found a way of using it for their own purposes, what did I care?




Cause and Effect



After a leisurely lunch we picked out some clothes for myself and headed home, where I set about restoring some semblance of order to my room. By the time I had finished and showered, Mom had the evening meal on the table. She seemed preoccupied as we ate, and after we finished she remained silent, fidgeting a little as we sat watching TV. About ninety uncomfortable minutes later she went into her room. She was gone for at least a half hour, and I was beginning to wonder if she was upset, when she emerged and stood nervously in the doorway. I looked at her and my jaw dropped. She was wearing a matching bra and panty set in a delicate lavender lace, and despite the evidence of her abuse I had never seen her look more stunning.

"I tried to look pretty for you."

"Mom, you have always been the most beautiful woman in the world to me. It doesn't matter what you wear." I stood up but she held her hand up, palm facing me.

"Petey, I liked what we did last night. You were so wonderfully gentle and understanding. It didn't turn me on like I hoped, but it was nice, so if you want to do it again ...."

I opened my arms and she came to me, face upturned for a kiss. She didn't flinch when I covered her breast with my palm, and as her nipple stiffened he placed her hand over my growing erection. After a moment she turned away, and knowing I would follow she went to her room and sat on the bed looking at me. 

"Take your clothes off Petey," she whispered.

When I was naked she ran her hands down over my chest and stomach, then fleetingly pressed my shaft against her cheek before unhooking her bra and stretching out on the covers. She sucked in a sharp breath when I uncovered her boobs and took her hard brown nipple between my lips. Wanting to let her set the pace, I concentrated on the firm mounds and rubbery tips, sucking and caressing until she spoke again.

"OK Petey."

Taking my time I kissed and stroked my way down her body, and when I drew her panties down her legs I saw why she had kept me waiting for over half an hour. The silky bush had gone, and her smooth pink mound with its neat dividing line pouted in invitation. 

"Do you like it Petey?" 

The anxious question seemed so ridiculous that I had to stifle a giggle. "Do I like it? Oh Mom, it's perfect. It's the most perfect pussy any man could see."

She sighed with relief, and there was a smile in her voice when she answered. "I don't care about any man. I only care about my man. My sweet gentle man."

I separated the puffy lips with my tongue, seeking her clit. Although except for a little additional wetness she was showing no indication of being aroused, I felt that she was getting some vicarious pleasure from my licking, even if it was only because she knew she was pleasing me. After a while she pushed my face away and reached for my cock, watching closely as she masturbated me, and when I reached the edge she directed the stream of cum onto her tits.

This became a pattern over the next couple of months, with me licking her delicious pussy almost nightly, but eliciting no response other than a gradual, barely perceptible, increasing wetness, after which she would jerk me off, each time aiming my cum on to a different part of her luscious body. During this time, I suppose because we had only each other for company, I noticed more and more how fucked up Mom was by her past experiences. When she knew I was going to touch her, she remained calm and composed, but otherwise she cowered if I made any sudden movement, and any sound from outside the house almost made her jump out of her skin. It was clear that it would take a lot of patience if I was to ever get her to where she deserved to be, but I loved her more than enough to persevere, especially since I knew that she was trying just as hard.

During one of our more relaxed moments I asked Mom why she had never tried to escape, even though to do so she would have had to leave the home she grew up in. Her answer shook me. "I couldn't Petey, I had to stay for your sake. He said if I tried to leave he would kill you."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Surely you didn't believe that? It was just talk to intimidate you more."

She shook her head. " Don't be so sure. Before you say that I think you should look at something." Going into her room, she returned after a few moments and handed me an envelope. Lifting the flap I extracted two typewritten pages under the letterhead of the coroner's office. It was a report into the inquest on my grandparents, the bare bones of which stated that forensic examination of the car had revealed a sharp stone lodged between the chassis and a brake line. The report stated that expert opinion was heard that the stone had lodged in place after being thrown up from the road by the action of the wheels, causing the brake line to fracture, resulting in brake failure. In light of this evidence a verdict of accidental death had been returned.

I returned the pages to the envelope and handed it back. "So? It seems pretty straightforward to me."

"On the face of it yes, but taken with other things..." Mom paused to gather her thoughts and words. "Firstly, your father hated my Dad, and Dad was throwing him out. Secondly, a couple of days after Dad told him to leave I heard him banging around in the garage, and when he came out he threw a handful of stones into the road. You know he is a mechanic, so you know he would know how to fix things to make it look like an accident. If you knew what you were doing, it would be easy to take one stone out of millions on a gravel road and jam it against the brake line. Who is going to prove it wasn't an accident?"

My blood ran cold at the thought. "Well the bastard is crazy enough to try a stunt like that, but you could have told someone."

"I couldn't, don't you see? He told me if I opened my mouth or tried to leave he would hunt us down and make me watch him kill you. Then he would kill me and himself. I didn't care about myself but I couldn't take the risk with you so I kept quiet."

I remained silent as I thought about the chilling logic. A mother will do anything, endure anything to protect her offspring, and any accusations she made could be interpreted as an attempt to get out of a marriage she no longer wanted to be in. After all, this had all been before the abuse started, so there were no injuries to prove he was a violent man.

There was no point in me going to the authorities at this late date, because I had learned the truth too late. All of the bruises and weals had disappeared, so again there was no evidence of any violence. Anyway he was out of our lives now, so I could only hope that someday he would get his.

Almost two months to the day after the night in the motel, we were startled by a loud insistent hammering on the door. Mom screamed and fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and bracing myself for trouble, I went to answer the banging. Opening the door, I was confronted by two burly men who flashed ID cards, identifying them as plain clothes cops. After I had satisfied them as to who I was, they told me they wanted to interview the rat bastard in connection with a number of violent attacks on women. CCTV, footage of a suspect leaving the scene of the latest attack had linked him to an old photo on the police database, so there was no mistake about his identity. The shorter of the two detectives asked if they could search the house, so I stepped aside, then remembering Mom, I went to the bathroom and tapped on the door.

"It's OK, Mom. It's the police." 

During the search I explained the latest developments, and Mom seemed to recede back into her shell. "Oh, Petey, I'm scared. What if he comes back here to hide?"

"He wouldn't be that stupid Mom. Trust me, this is the last place he would want to come."

Despite my assurances, the next time I tried to touch her intimately, the old tension had returned. She let me feel and kiss her tits, but as soon as I went near her pussy she froze. Just lately we had appeared to be making real progress, to the point where when she jerked me off she had seemed to take genuine pleasure in smearing my cum over herself and rubbing it into her skin. Now we were back to square one, and we would have to start over again.

The breakthrough, when it came, was as surprising as it was unexpected.

A couple of weeks after the cops had searched the house they returned. They told us that the asshole had been in the act of attempting to rape another woman when one of her relatives had disturbed him. In trying to escape he had dashed across the road, straight in front of a truck. As his only known relatives, they needed either Mom or me to identify the body. I didn't relish the thought, but Mom had gone through enough trauma so I agreed. He looked so puny and pathetic, lying there covered only by a sheet, with his face frozen in a look of shocked horror, and I felt a grim satisfaction that he had gone out feeling the way he had made so many others feel. They asked me about funeral arrangements, and without mentioning the part I had played, I told them bluntly that any responsibility we may have had ended when he decided to walk out on Mom and me some time before. For all I cared they could throw him out with the rest of garbage. When I arrived back home and told Mom it was definitely him, she looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her. The defeated slump went out of her shoulders, and she seemed to grow in stature at the realisation that for the first time in her adult life she was truly free. Her own woman.

That evening I had begun the usual ritual of licking her slit, hoping but not really expecting anything, when her breathing deepened and her hips began to move. Taking it as a good sign, I licked faster, and within minutes she was grasping my hair and thrusting frantically to push her clit harder against my tongue.

"Oh god Petey! Oh my god! You're making me cum! Oh Petey ... you're making your Mom cum! Oh Petey ... I didn't think I'd ever ..... Ohhh!" Her hips were moving faster, and I lapped up her nectar greedily, until suddenly she stopped and sighed. "Oh my god, that was the first orgasm I've had in fifteen years. It was wonderful. I'd just about forgotten what it was like. Just imagine. My first in fifteen years and it took my wonderful Son to do it."

This time when she got me off she did it with almost the entire front of her body. Never in my life had I imagined that being masturbated could be so mind blowingly erotic. Pushing me onto my back she gripped my cock, stroking slowly as she rubbed the tip over her face and down to her boobs. Straddling my knees she leaned forward, pushing the bulbous head hard against each nipple in turn as if she was trying to thrust my tool inside her breast. I felt as though the top of my head would explode when she squeezed my shaft between her firm mounds, tit fucking me for long delicious moments, before sitting up straight. Resuming her relentless stroking, she pressed her navel against the end of my rod, and then timing it perfectly she rose to her knees and a hot stream of thick cum shot vertically out of my throbbing cock and spattered over her shaven slit before dripping onto my balls.

"Shit Mom, that was sensational. You're the best." I gasped as my prick stopped pumping.

"My beautiful son deserves nothing but the best," she smiled, scooping the sticky puddle off my balls and rubbing it into her pussy. "You brought me back to life. I'm not so sure I am the best, but for you I'll be the best I can be. I'll do all the things I hated doing with him." 

I shook my head violently. "No, Mom, you don't have to do that. I won't ever ask you to do what you don't like."

She leaned forward and kissed me, not with passion, but with a kiss loaded with promise. "Don't you see Petey? That's exactly why I'll do it. Because I don't have to I want to. Because I know that if I ask you to stop you will stop, Because I know that if I want to refuse to do anything, you are not going to beat me up and force me to do it anyway." Rolling over to lie beside me, she held my hand. "Let's get some sleep and see what tomorrow brings."

I was wakened next morning to what I thought was the sound of the radio, and then I realised it was Mom singing. I was pretty stunned because I had never heard her sing before, just as I had never heard her laugh. She came into the bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee and naked as a jaybird. I took the time to study her properly as she approached. How absolutely stunning she was now that all the marks of the abuse had gone from her perfect skin, and my heart ached with love for this beautiful woman that was my Mom. With every move her tits jiggled as though they had a life of their own, and her nipples stared at me like two huge brown eyes. My adoring gaze moved down over her slightly rounded tummy, to her pouting hairless slit that seemed to wink lasciviously with every step she took. Underneath the sheet my cock stiffened as she sat beside me and handed me a mug. 

She chattered aimlessly as we sipped, and when her coffee was almost finished he took my hand and placed it on her mound. "You don't have to wait any more Petey" she whispered, settling back against the pillows and pulling the sheet away. "I think I'm ready to let you put it in me." 

Before she could say any more I covered her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply in a true lover's kiss, our tongues fencing with each other as I slipped a finger into her wetness. Now that I knew that my dream was within reach I hesitated. In all the times I had jerked off thinking about how it would feel to slide my cock into Mom's pussy, I had never really thought it would happen, and now that it was likely I wanted it to be as perfect for her as possible. I slid my lips down over her throat, and across her shoulders to the slopes of her breasts, squeezing the resilient mounds into cones and taking each dark apex one at a time, and then both together into my mouth. I sucked and caressed and nibbled until her breasts were heaving with each ragged breath she took, then worked lower, poking my tongue into her deep navel. Her hips lifted in involuntary anticipation, and I went directly to her fork, parting the sweet pink lips to press my tongue hard against her stiffened clit. 

As the pungent odour of her sex invaded my nostrils, she gasped. "Now Petey, now! Put your cock in now! Fuck me! Fuck your Mom!" 

A stray thought entered my mind. The pig had called me a pansy and a faggot. He sure as fuck wouldn't call me that now if he could look up from whichever hell he was in, and see his wife begging for her son's cock in a way she had never begged for his.

I moved quickly above her, stroking my throbbing cock up and down her slit, coating my shaft with her secretions then slowly, oh so slowly I slid into her. Oh my god, so this was how it felt to fuck my mother. In all my fantasies it had been superb, but the reality was beyond superb. There were no words to describe the feel of her tight wet twat clutching my cock as I thrust in and out, no words to describe the thrust of her hips as she rose to meet me, and no words to describe the way she mashed her tits against my chest as she clutched me to her.

"Oh, Petey... Oh Petey... Oh yesss, fuckmefuckmefuckmeeeee!" Her nails raked my back and her heels beat a frantic rhythm against my ass, driving me on, and in and up into her. She moved her hips from side to side so my cockhead probed her depths from different angles, and i leaned forward to scrub her clit with my pubes. "Oh fuck Petey I'm gonna cum! Oh yesss!" Her juices gushed out around my thrusting pole, and I groaned as I pumped gout after gout of hot slippery cum into Mom's flooded cunt. "Oh Peter, that was even more amazing than last night." 

My cock felt so good in her warm wetness that I tried not to dislodge it as I raised my shoulders and smiled down into her sparkling eyes. "Mom, that's the first time you ever called me Peter."

"Yes, that's because you're not my little Petey any more. You're Peter, my big wonderful Son with a big wonderful cock who just fucked his Mom to the gates of heaven. I only wish I could have let you stick it in me sooner, but I couldn't while I thought there was a chance that he might come back. I hope it was worth waiting for?" 

"God yes, ever since he first made you show me your beautiful cunt I've dreamed of nothing else but fucking you, and it was a thousand times better than I dreamed it would be."

"Careful young man," she said with mock sternness. "If you use dirty words like that your Mommy might have to chastise you." 

I leered at her and put my lips close to her ear, drawing the word out . "Cuuuuunnnnnttt."

She reached down and dug her nails into my butt, and for the first time ever I heard her laugh, tinkling and musical. Reflexively I jerked away from her nails, and my still three quarters hard tool jabbed further into her. 

She squealed and lifted her hips, pinching me again. "Prick."

I chuckled and jabbed again. "Twat."

Pinch again. "Cock."

Jab. "Pussy."

Her arms encircled me as my tool stiffened. "Fuck!"

"Yesss." I breathed, thrusting smoothly.

There was a faint slurping noise each time I drove into her squeezing some of my previous load out. "It sounds like my cunt is trying to suck your cock." Mom giggled tightening her muscles around my shaft. 

Gently I swatted her playfully across her tits. "Shut up woman, I'm trying to have a serious fuck here! How can you expect me to concentrate if you keep clowning around?"

The silly banter continued for some minutes, then we got down to some gentle prolonged fucking, continually switching back and forth, first me on top, and then Mom. During one of her spells she stopped riding me for a moment and lifted my hands to her tits. "I love you so much Peter. I've always loved you."

"I know Mom, I love you too." I had the feeling she wanted to say more, but she resumed riding me, leaning back so I could see my cock sliding in and out of her smooth slit. Her stomach muscles tightened and I knew she was getting close, so I grasped her hips, bouncing her up and down on my cock. Like a gentle wave, her climax washed over her, and a look of sheer bliss came into her face. 

"Ohhh, soo good Peter, sooo goood. My lovely gentle man." Leaning forward, she pressed her clit against my shaft. "Soooo sweet. Sooooo gentle. Soooo loving." Lowering herself fully, she sat rocking backwards and forwards, keeping her orgasm finely balanced. My heart was full as I gazed adoringly at this beautiful naked woman that was my mother, her tits swaying gently as her cum ran down my cock. "Cum for me Peter, cum in me. Make me yours forever."

Looking at the soft curve of her belly reminded me of something, but what she did next pushed the thought out of my mind before I could voice it. Without warning she climbed off me and slid down, capturing my slippery cock in her mouth and sucking furiously. I had already been close to the edge, and the sheer unexpectedness sent me toppling over. The sight of her luscious lips round my tool as she slurped up our mixed secretions was more than i could stand, and I barely had time to gasp before my cum was pouring down her throat. She sucked and swallowed until my cock was limp, and then she licked her lips and grinned at me. "I told you I wanted to do everything with you. Now I know what we both taste like."

After the workout we had given each other, I suspected it would take some time before I would be able to get it up again, so I suggested we shower and dress and go to the mall for lunch. This was a totally different Mom to the one I grew up with, outgoing and vivacious, as if she was determined to make the most of her new found freedom. Strolling around the mall with her arm tucked through mine, she was more like a bubbly teenager than a thirty something mom. She preened whenever any man under seventy gave her the once over, and every so often she boosted my ego by pointing out girls with oversize tits, commenting how fast their pants would come off if they saw my cock. When I protested that she was all the woman I could handle, she laughed and started making lascivious remarks about the bulges in the pants of some of the younger guys.




Cause and Effect



On the way to the food court, she pointed to a crowd of shoppers waiting for the elevator. "Let's go in there, and when everyone is squashed together I want you to feel my cunt."

The outrageous suggestion was so risky it was too exciting to resist, and we joined the throng. Pushing our way to the rear of the tightly packed elevator, I leaned my back against the wall, with Mom facing me, and I quickly pulled up the front of her skirt. She giggled at the look on my face when I discovered she wasn't wearing panties, then her mouth opened in a silent O as I pushed two fingers deep inside her. The whole exciting episode lasted only the few seconds it took for the elevator to travel between floors, and as the car emptied I reluctantly withdrew and allowed her skirt to fall back into place.

As we sat eating lunch in the food court, I remembered the thought I had just before Mom had sucked my cock. Reaching across the table I took her hand and regarded her seriously. "We'll have to be careful Mom" I said quietly.

She squeezed my fingers and looked round for possible eavesdroppers before she replied in a low voice. "I know darling. That was a spur of the moment impulse. In future we'll do all of our fucking in private so nobody will know."

I shook my head. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean we'll need to be careful you don't get pregnant.

"Oh." She was silent for quite some time, then smiled at me. "Would that really be such a bad thing? I hadn't given it a thought, but I must admit I quite like the idea of having your baby. It would be nice to have a baby that grew up with a daddy that loved him or her."

"What about the neighbours?"

"What about them? They'll just think I went out and got fucked. There's no reason for them to think otherwise." Abruptly she stood up. "Come on, let's go home. I'm horny."

After what had happened in the elevator I didn't need a second invitation, and by the time we reached home my boner was threatening to split my pants. Nor did Mom waste any time. As soon as we were inside she hitched up her skirt, and kneeling on the couch, she leaned forward over the back. "Like this Baby. Now." Pausing just long enough to drop my pants, I stepped up behind her and drove into her wet snatch. Our earlier conversation must have been on her mind, because she pushed back to engulf my full length. "That's it Pete, fuck your Mom. Fill my cunt with your baby juice." 

It dawned on me later that she had shortened my name to Pete, which was what I preferred anyway, but at that particular moment I was too engrossed in the awesome way her twat was gripping my cock. I reached around and under to rub her clit and she went wild. Digging her fingers into the couch for leverage she surged back against me, hips gyrating. "Harder Pete, fuck me harder. Give me your cock. Give me your cum."

I was a little surprised, given her history of abuse, but if she wanted hard fucking I wasn't about to argue. Grabbing her hips I pulled most of the way out and then hammered into her again, crushing her against the cushions of the couch. "Fuck yes Pete! Just like that! Fuck yes! Harder!" I continued to pummel her crack, grinding my balls against her clit with each stroke, until I couldn't hold back any longer. As my cock erupted, she clamped her thighs together, working her inner muscles to draw out my sticky gunk. 

When I withdrew my spent tool, she flipped over and sat with her legs tightly crossed, and a smirk on her face. "Wow! That might be the one that rang the bell, but I want to keep it all inside me just in case."

For the next couple of weeks she was almost insatiable, but when that time of the month came around her disappointment was almost tangible. I must admit to a feeling of relief though, because as much as I loved fucking my Mom, I still wasn't sure how I felt about getting her pregnant. The uncertainty wasn't enough to dampen my eagerness to have my cock inside her, and we were at it again at the first opportunity. 

Six weeks later I came home from work to find her grinning like the cat that had the monopoly on cream. "We did it Pete," she grinned, showing me a home pregnancy kit. "You're going to be a Daddy." She was so happy that all of my previous misgivings evaporated, and I found myself becoming as eager as she was. Now that it was certain that she was pregnant I sort of expected her to go off sex, but her appetite seemed to increase with her girth, and the more she wanted the hornier it made me, especially as when as she grew bigger her pussy became more prominent. Several times as she came closer to term I sneaked off from work an hour early, because I couldn't wait to stick my cock in her puffed up cunt and pump cum into her swollen belly.

A month before my twentieth birthday the nine month wait was over, and Mom gave birth to the most beautiful, perfect baby daughter. I fell head over heels the instant I saw her, and because she was the queen of our hearts we called her Regina. When Regina was old enough to understand words, Mom and I decided that it would be wiser for me to stop calling her Mom in front of the child, in case she let it slip to any of her playmates. After that Mom was only Mom when we were fucking. All other times she was Mommy to our precious daughter, and her given name of Angelica to me.

As she grew and started school, it became clear that she was an above average student with a voracious appetite for learning. When she reached adolescence, we decided that she was old to know the truth, so we sat her down and hesitantly explained the true relationship between her parents, stressing the importance of keeping it to herself. To our relief she took it without flinching, and after thinking for a moment she shrugged dismissively. "It's nobody's business but yours, and I have the best Mom and Dad in the world, so why should I care?" 

It was an absolute joy watching Reggie blossom from an awkward teenager into a stunningly beautiful and self confident young woman. In her last year of high school Angelica and I taught her to drive. During one of her driving lessons with her Mom, she had spotted a three year old bright red Toyota, and when a week before her eighteenth birthday she finished high school second in her class, she arrived home to find it sitting in the driveway. In typical female fashion she dissolved into tears, and in typical female logic she gave it a name, appropriately enough "Cherry Bomb". 

If I was a bundle of nerves when, saying she would be back soon, she took it out for her first solo run, I was a total wreck when she finally returned more than two hours later. Flying out of the front door, I scrutinised the car anxiously. Reggie watched me with a smug grin, and when I had satisfied myself there was no damage, she smirked. "What's up Daddy? Did you think I would bust my Cherry?" She doubled over with mirth at the deliberate double entendre, and when she managed to control herself, she explained that she had stopped off to show her new prize to some friends. We didn't see much of her in the next couple of weeks, because being the only one of her friends to have wheels she was centre of attention.

Not surprisingly, three of her friends persuaded her it would be a great idea for them to go on an end of school camping trip, and although I was apprehensive about their safety, at eighteen she was old enough to make her own decisions. After promising to ring every day, she picked up the other three girls and set off a week before my birthday, assuring me that she had every intention of returning in time to help me celebrate.

This brings me to today. I'm sitting here looking at a handmade card, and I can't wait for Reggie to come home. When I woke up Angelica and I had a nice long leisurely fuck, and after we had showered and dressed she handed me an envelope with a secretive smile. "Reggie asked me to give this to you."

Inside I found a handmade card and another envelope. On the inside of the card, in my daughter's neat handwriting was a note. 

"Dear Daddy, Thank you so much for Cherry Bomb. I tried hard to find something for your birthday that would show you I love you as much as you love me, but nothing I saw seemed right. Then I had an idea so I talked it over with Mom and she agreed it would be perfect.

I got her to take a photo of me holding what I want to give you. I can't wait for you to unwrap it, and give me what I wanted most for my birthday. I love you Daddy. Regina."

I opened the smaller envelope and pulled out the photo, and my eyes bugged. My beautiful daughter was stretched lengthwise on her side along the couch in her underwear. Her superb breasts were straining at the half bra, with the upper edges of her areola peeping over the top. One leg was raised along the back of the couch, and she was blowing a kiss at the camera, with her free hand cupping her pussy.