0 comments/ 534913 views/ 22 favorites Synchronicity By: Tattletale "Mom, you better stop sucking now. I'm almost there and I don't think it would be right to come in your mouth." "I really don't mind, dear. I like the taste of come, and it would be interesting to compare yours to your father's." "I wouldn't feel right about it, Mom. Maybe you could finish me off with your hand." "I have a better idea. How about a nice tit job. Your father begged for them." After dribbling spit onto the insides of her big, freckled tits, Mom molded them around my twitching cock and began to masturbate me with them. With her hands underneath and her thumbs over the nipples, she raised and lowered them onto my shaft. All the while, she smiled up at me as she tried to gauge how far along I was. Her skin was as soft as silk, her flesh as warm as a bun fresh out of the oven. When I started to go over the edge, the urge to fuck overcame me and I began to pump into the fleshy tunnel. With flawless timing, Mom dropped her head and captured my pulsating cock in her mouth just as I shot my load. She choked on the first spurt, but quickly regained control and finished me off like a pro. When the jets of semen stopped, she took deep, hard gulps to squeeze out every drop left in the pipeline. The hard sucks induced a mini-orgasm similar to an aftershock following an earthquake. Mom moaned her appreciation as I treated her to three bonus spurts. Perhaps you are wondering how my mother happened to be on her knees between my legs giving me a blow job. It all came about because of an arcane philosophical theory called synchronicity. Carl Jung, a pioneer in the field of psychology, developed the theory based on his observations. Synchronicity is the occurrence of two similar events so close together in time that it defies probability. The events themselves are usually trivial. For example, my car and my wife's car broke down on the same day for the same reason. Impossible, yet it happened. Another good example of synchronicity is my divorce and my mother's divorce on the same day. I remember how shocked I was when I called my parents to give them my bad news and heard my mother say, "Isn't that a coincidence! I just divorced your father." It was synchronicity, not coincidence. After my parents' divided the property, Mom didn't have much to live on. They had very little equity in their property and they hadn't bothered to save much. Mom didn't have any skills or higher education, so it wasn't surprising that she couldn't find a job. My marriage had been going downhill for years. Ending it was like shooting an injured horse to put it out of its misery. Even though my wife and I had been at each other's throats most of the time, I missed having a woman around. Both of our problems were solved when Mom accepted my invitation and moved in with me. I was sure that our arrangement was temporary and would end as soon as she found a new husband. She had beauty and charm, so I expected her to find someone quickly. In the meantime, I loved having her around. She was witty and articulate, and, even though she lacked a higher education, she was well-informed and could discuss a variety of subjects. She was a breath of fresh air after years with a bitter, sullen woman. Mom went out looking for work every day and soon found a job as a waitress. It only lasted until her first paycheck. Although she was very pretty to look at in her Bavarian peasant-girl uniform, she wasn't a very good waitress. Mom eventually gave up on finding a job and that suited me fine. I always came home at the end of the day to a spotless apartment and a gourmet meal. I began to think of her as my wife rather than my mother. I suppose I should have tried to maintain the status quo. Mom and I were both happy and, as they say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But I did want Mom to find a man for her own welfare. That beautiful, healthy woman was going to waste. I suppose another reason that I wanted her out was because I felt intense guilt when I had carnal thoughts about her. She dressed so sexy that it was hard not to have those thoughts. I even jacked off while listening to her masturbate through the wall of her bedroom. Shameless! I introduced Mom to almost all of the older men that I knew. She dated many of them, but always found something wrong with them. They were too stingy or boring, or they only wanted sex. I finally fixed her up with my wealthy boss, the most eligible bachelor in town. The suave, debonair bachelor was the perfect partner for my beautiful mother. I laid in bed one night stroking my cock and wondering how Mom's date with my boss was going. She was out late, a very good sign. I tried to picture my boss and my mother fucking and managed to conjure up a pretty good image. I was so intent on my thoughts that I did not hear the car pull up in front or the front door open. It took all of my concentration to hold the image in my mind. I didn't even hear my mother walk through the open door of my room. "That son-of-a-bitch you fixed me up with couldn't even hold it back a minute. He left me high and dry and you are going to have to finish the job. I know you want this as much as I do." Mom straddled me and lowered herself onto my cock. My rigid rod slid into the very canal from which I had emerged thirty years earlier. It was tight, slick and creamy. Her pussy could not have produced so much sex juice. My boss had obviously not worn a rubber when he fucked her and now I was enjoying sloppy seconds for the first time in my life. I was physically and mentally paralyzed. My conscience occasionally managed to get through to me but I ignored its messages. I knew it was wrong for a man to fuck his mother, but I was so horny and it felt so good. My wife and I had stopped having sex long before the end of our marriage, so I hadn't had a soft, warm woman against me in a long time. As Mom bent forward above me, I smelled whiskey on her breath. When she spoke, her speech was slurred. "Thank God for Jim Beam," I thought. Her big, pear-shaped tits swung North to South as she posted on my cock. My lust finally broke me out of my catatonic state. I captured both bouncing tits in my hands and stuffed a swollen nipple into my mouth. Mom became hysterical. "Oh, yes, it feels so good to fuck again. How I love to fuck. Suck on my boobs. It's been years since you had your mouth on them. Fuck me with your big hard cock. Make up for all the pain I suffered when I had you." I let Mom do all of the work for the first five minutes or so, then I clamped my hands on her ass, bent my legs to give me leverage, and began pumping up into her. Each thrust pulled more of my boss's cream out of her to run down over my balls. Mom's pussy got even slicker and sporadic Kegel spasms squeezed my cock. The only outward sign of her first orgasm was her heavy breathing. She was panting like a dog on a hot summer day. In a rapid-fire whisper, she confirmed what I already knew. "Oh, that was a nice one. It's so much nicer coming on a cock instead of a vibrator. I want some more like that. Don't you dare stop." "I think I can do a better job if you are on your back, Mom." She rolled to the side and spread her legs. Up until then, she was the only one truly guilty of incest. She had mounted me and fucked me, but what I was about to do would make me as guilty as her. By then, the messages from my conscience ceased as though the line connecting it to my consciousness had been severed. My cock was doing all of my thinking for me. There was a beautiful woman lying naked in front of me begging to be fucked, and I had to do my duty. I drove my cock into her so forcefully that her warm, whiskey breath gushed from her mouth. As Mom's pelvis rose to meet my downward thrusts, the sound of our bellies slapping together echoed off of the walls. We were fucking like two animals, without any affection, motivated entirely by our hunger for sex. Mom was having one orgasm after another. "OH, MY GOD, I'VE NEVER HAD THIS MANY AT ONE TIME!" she shouted. Then she went limp beneath me. I shamelessly continued fucking her limp body for several more minutes until I shot my load into her pussy. As I rolled to the side, I felt as though I had just run a marathon. When I began thinking rationally again, I panicked at the thought that I might have made her pregnant. I had to splash cold water in her face to bring her around. "Mom, I shot off inside of you. Are you on birth control?" "Yes, don't worry. I'm on the pill. Now come back to bed." She woke me in the middle of the night and we fucked again. A year has passed since that night and I don't think a single day has passed without sex of some kind. I stopped pushing her to find a man, and I don't care that she doesn't have a job. She pays for her keep with the best sex that I have ever had. Synchronicity I stood opposite the door, surveying the room. The most exotically dressed people I had ever seen populated it. As my eyes skittered from person to person, they grew wider with astonishment. Leather, latex, mesh, metal, vinyl, thin gauze - some were near naked in only collars, cuffs and a small triangle of tight material. Odours, leather, lace and sex filled the room fighting with the music for space. Voices hummed all around me as my senses drank in the onslaught leaving me gasping. I felt a brief stir of cool night air as the door opened to allow a man and a woman to enter. The door closed behind them and the man helped his Mistress off with her long coat. I had seen immediately, by both their demeanour and dress, who was in charge in that pairing. She wore thigh high shiny black spike healed boots, tight black shorts and a top that instead of covering her ample breasts, slung beneath them and lifted them high and bare. She walked with a confidence that spoke of leashed power and unleashed sexuality. Her submissive partner wore a collar, cuffs and tiny briefs. He kept his eyes downcast and followed after her like an adoring puppy. I felt drawn to this couple with their unashamed embracing of their lifestyle, their apparent comfort in the roles that they assumed, and their obvious affection for each other. I watched as the pair approached a Master and his female slave. As the Mistress spoke, she caressed her man's near-naked body. Just slight, light touches, a running of the fingertips on his forearm, stroking his hair, and a pat on his buttocks as she apparently made a ribald joke that made him blush, the Master roar with laughter and the Masters slave try to suppress a smile. I sighed as the crowd ebbed and flowed and hid their small group from me. I knew that one day I would find my other half - the one who would complete me - my own submissive partner - the man of my dreams. Restlessly I adjusted my concealing cloak, feeling its slightly coarse texture against my breasts and resumed my observation of the room. I was new to this game, my hidden sexuality only lately come by. Suppressed as I had been in the firm rules and beliefs of my family, I had believed that my desires were unnatural. Searching for something I knew had been missing from my life; I found my answers through the Internet. Discovering the world of fetish, I felt a kinship for the people who had discarded the ancient notion that men were superior. People who had decided to walk their own path and people who felt free within their sexuality. I longed to become one of those people, and in this city where I knew no one and no one knew me, I finally felt I could join them. Becoming more confident, my roving eyes passed over the heads of many people until a pair of blue eyes looking straight back transfixed me. I became lost in the depths of them. I felt all time had slipped and drifted free, loosing us from its harsh restraints. I felt as if my soul had reached its hand across the room and was drawing us together. Amid all the noise and laughter and the pervasive seductive odour of sex I took a step forward, oblivious to all but you. I looked past the trappings of your thinly veiled form and saw your firmly muscled body. The figure of an athlete, the face of a Greek god, and in that instant I knew who you were. With a shocked gasp my lungs drew in air, emotion, smell and memory. For four years, I’d held you in my mind, your body knifing through the chill air at the rink, your smile stirring my emotions. Dancing on ice you spun your way into my heart. Partnering you, we moved in perfect synchronicity, mesmerizing the local judges, wooing the audience, tasting the heady fragrance of imminent fame; until that fateful day four years ago. Remembering the loss of you, seeing the pain in your eyes as you told me you had to go. To be with your father as he slowly made his way into the world beyond. As he made that painful trek from the hospital half a country away. You went to a place I could not follow. Much as I loved you, I needed to remain near my own family. We parted as friends, having never made the step I craved for, the step that would have made us lovers. Memory took me back to our last dance, swirling in the spotlight; we danced as we’d never danced before. The slight muskiness of your sweat filled my senses, love welled in my heart, and the chill air squeezed the breath from my lungs. You led our last dance with passion and tenderness; I saw the glint of moisture in your eyes and had to fight to keep back my own. Time passed, as time does and we lost touch. Blinking away that remembered past I realized you had come to me; and with the exquisite grace of a skater knelt on one knee before me. Kissing the hem of my cloak, your head bowed in supplication I knew I’d found my dream. * * * Donning a trench coat over my costume, I look one final time in the mirror and, slicking back the lock of hair that always manages to free itself from any hold, I prepared to make my way into my new life. Unsatisfied with past experiments with women, I felt the need to surrender control with them. Skating had taught me, and taught me well how to lead women in the dance, a foreplay in movement, posture, style, gliding from move to move in a well rehearsed play. The illusion of dominance I’d formed around myself was just that, an illusion. I ached to break from those bounds and become the man I really was, a slave to the goddess that is Woman. Tonight I hoped to find that goddess. Taking a breath, I hurried from my apartment and hailed a taxi. Directing the driver to the address of the club, I knew I had taken the first step in my new life. Stepping from the noisy bustle of the street into the dark warmth of the club, the music and murmur of voices hit like a wave, and borne upon it rode sex and sensuality reminiscent of lovers. Checking my coat at the door, I revealed my outfit. Barely clothed I wore little more than a leather studded g-string with straps that joined in a V at the front. A transparent thigh length tunic covered all. Lingering beside the doorway, I surveyed the room. Seeing was believing, and I knew I was meant to be there; I belonged. My eyes roamed, slowly drinking in the sights and sounds that I thirsted for. The crowd shifted as if Moses parted the sea and across from me stood a woman alone. Time seemed to slow as my heart speeded up. Dragging me forward I could not resist the tide; did not want to resist. Her pale face beautiful, her green cat-like eyes speared into, pierced through, and lodged deep within me: imperious, majestic, a vision in gothic beauty; a Goddess worthy to bear the name. A flicker of a frown passed over her features and, seeing it, I knew I had already met her. Mentally I stripped her makeup, the high flaring collar, the concealing cloak and recognized in her the graceful beauty I had left in love and sorrow four years ago. Four years ago I’d held you in my arms, your body moving with cat-like grace, your green eyes stirring my emotions. Dancing on ice you wove your way into my heart. Partnering you we moved in perfect time, thrilling the judges and audience alike on the road to stardom; until that fateful day four years ago. Remembering the tearing pain I felt as I told you I had to go to be with my father as he was dragged down by cancer. I went to a place you could not follow; you needed to remain near your own family. We parted as friends, having never made the step I longed for, the step that would have made us lovers. Recalling our last dance, basking in the limelight: we danced as we’d never danced before. The delicate blush of your cheeks, the warm breath against my chest filled my senses, love swelled in my heart, and the cool air froze the words unborn on my lips. I led our last dance but you were the star. With passion and tenderness we enacted our longing and parting on the stage of the rink. Blinking back my emotion as I knew I had missed out with you. Time passed, as time does and we lost touch. My blood surged at the realization of her, and I knew on that instant that we were at last destined to be together. Dropping at her feet I kissed her hem, head bowed in supplication, swearing with body and soul I would never leave her again. * * * From his position on the upper level, he saw the silent drama unfold. A woman standing silent and alone, and though dominant in her stance, she hides both nervousness and costume. A man, strong of body, sure of movement, but lost emotionally, seeks his ideal. Their eyes told the tale. Both sought that which would make them whole. The recognition of kindred spirits, the recognition of self, and the recognition of the other brings them together. An almost audible click as their pieces meshed and he knelt at her feet. They belonged together. And he watched as their drama played out. * * * She unfastened the single closure at her neck, dropping the cloak in a puddle at her feet, finally revealing her costume. An outward reflection of her inner desire, the black vinyl gleamed in the dim light. Surrounding the halter neck raised a high flared collar, setting off her makeup pale skin, kohl blackened green eyes and ruby red lips. The plunging neckline revealed the inner curve of her breasts. Outlining her slim waist, hugging her torso the laced bodice accentuated her figure. The skirt, plain and unadorned swirled around her thighs at every movement. They moved as if within a dream. He removed his tunic, baring his flesh for her. Light as a butterfly, she rested her hand on his shoulder and in a husky emotion-laden voice uttered her first words of command "Dance with me." The man, enraptured by the beauty that was his Woman, his Goddess, his partner, his friend and his soul mate, whispered for the first time the words he was born to say: "Yes, Mistress." * * * Leading her by her silvery leash into the darkness of the upper floor, Destiny spoke to his consort, "Dance with me." Lady Luck replied "Yes, Master."