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Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 01

By: LordOfHell



Ariadne's life changed forever with one phone call. 

One moment, she was in the kitchen preparing a meal, hoping to finish before her husband Stewart from out-of-state. The next, she was on her knees weeping after the woman on the phone informed her that Stewart had died in a plane crash. After the initial shock, the only thing she felt was rage—she told the woman that she was wrong, that she needed to check the flight registry again. The woman repeated the same news, and Ari threw the phone into the wall. It was a lie. There was no way her Stewie was dead. He wouldn't leave her to raise a son alone. He wouldn't be that cruel. God wouldn't be that cruel.

The second thing she felt was denial. She held out hope for weeks, hoping that some rescue squad would discover survivors. She Googled "Airplane crash survivors" to see the odds of such a miracle. It was unlikely, but hope was there. She didn't care how infinitesimal—it was there. Even if the odds were a trillion to one, she just knew that her baby would be that one.

But then the weeks passed and no survivors were found. Stewie never came home. Reality began to sink in. 

She was alone, and Barry was all that she had to remember her husband by. 

The media came around, hounding for questions, but she never gave them anything. She threatened to sue if they kept harassing. Eventually, they stopped and the world quickly brushed aside the death of the kindest, sweetest man that had ever walked upon it. The river of time flowed around such an insignificant tragedy like a pebble, unfettered. The crash became old news. Family and friends stopped calling to give condolences. Within months there was hardly anything left to even suggest Stewart Garrett had ever existed. 

Nothing except his son, Barry.

Barry, was only seven, but he understood what death meant. When Ariadne told him the truth, he knew that meant he'd never see his father again. There wasn't even a body to bury; Ariadne found herself scrounging through the house for anything that belonged to her late husband, picking his hairbrush clean for every strand she could find. She had it placed inside a glass at the side of her bed, so that she could always keep a piece of her dead love at her side. 

Some of the other victims' families pooled together to sue the airline for wrongful death, and they asked for Ariadne's support. She at first refused, but all it took was for someone to say "Don't you want to see Barry receive justice?" for her to eventually agree. Eventually, the airline agreed to settle, and Ariadne received a 2.3 million dollar check. Ironically, the money had the opposite affect than she had had intended. Without Barry around to spend it with her, it seemed devoid of any meaning.

And as always, life moved on. 

The first year was difficult, but each one after became less of a challenge. Ariadne never used the money; between Barry's life insurance and her home décor business, she had more than enough to support herself and one child with plenty of breathing room, especially since she wasn't one for extravagant purchases. She decided that one day, when he was older, Barry would be the one to decide what to do with the lawsuit money. As it was, it only reminded her of what she had lost.

Over time, Barry grew into a fine young man. Rebellious to a fault, but kind-hearted. He was stubborn and rarely listened when his mother told him to do something, but he was wise enough to avoid anything unsavory. She never had to worry about him running with the wrong crowd or becoming wrapped up in something abhorrent; when he was fifteen, he stunned her when he voluntarily confessed that he'd tried some pot at school, but that he didn't like it. She had always told him not to use drugs, but she was at least happy that he was smart enough to realize a bad decision after he had made it. She didn't want to lose the only thing she had left to drugs or crime, and she made him swear never to use them again. He assured her that he had already made up his mind on that.

For the most part, things were good. Ariadne's next tragedy was the day she saw her son off to college. Despite her protests, he took a plane—the mechanical butcher she had never forgiven for taking her Stewart away from her, but Barry insisted that it was statistically safer than driving and that taking a bus meant he'd have to wait nearly an entire day before he got to Fresno. She pestered him about it for five weeks straight, but when he insisted that he was going to fly, she relented on the condition that he call her the second he stepped off the plane safely. 

She consumed almost a bottle of vodka and smoked an entire pack-and-a-half of cigarettes before she finally got that call. 

And then, there she was, in that huge home all alone. She stood there, looking at the wide space, never having noticed before just how depressing it truly was. She turned on the TV, hoping to lose herself in the idiot box, but nothing could take her mind off of her loneliness. She worked at home, had very few friends in the area, and hadn't been on a single date since her husband had passed. She supposed that if she were a smarter person, she would have seen this coming, but "shouldas" and "wouldas" were worth about as much as gold on the moon. 

She decided to get some sleep, hoping to feel better in the morning. If not, she would go shopping to get her mind off such terrible depression. Being cooped up all day would never lead to anything good. 

As she passed into her room, she gazed at the king-size bed—the same one she and Stewie had shared for eight years. The same one in which they'd consummated their marriage. The same one in which they eventually conceived Barry. 

Memories of that night flooded her. She recalled back to the moment; she had been standing in this very spot, wearing nothing but a thin robe when Stewie had moved behind her. She felt his hands slide across her velvet hips, eventually reaching her tummy, where he held them. She felt his warmth at her back, his breath titillating her neck. She placed her slender hands atop his and moaned softly as he kissed her neck. Her eyes closed as she became lost in the bliss, surrendering completely as she felt the growth between his legs harden. 

He tenderly rubbed his hands across her belly and whispered, in that sweet and rugged voice. "That's where he'll be . . . our child." He knew what that did to her. Her body shivered with ecstasy and wetness poured from between her legs. 

Slowly and deliberately, he peeled the velvet away from her shoulders, revealing her peachy skin like the flesh of succulent fruit. He placed his lips there, coating the flesh revealed with a coat of his sweet saliva. She felt heat where his tongue trailed, and then rapid coolness when it disappeared. It only added to her excitement, only heightened her anticipation. At this point, she thoroughly belonged to him, and she left her body for him to use however he saw fit. 

In the present, Ariadne was so lost to the reminiscence that her hands were moving along her body unconscious of her own will. She stood a foot from her bed, touching herself through blouse, feeling every inch of her skin as though guided by another force. Her body was responding in kind, treating the arousal no differently than if she were being touched by another's fingers, played like a fine instrument. 

In her memories, Stewie had pulled the top of her robe down to her waist, leaving her upper body nude, heated only by his warmth at her back. She glanced into the glass wall at the other side of the room, turned into a mirror by the darkness outside the home. She drunk in her own naked form, turned on by the vision of her sleek feminine physique being touched everywhere by the sturdy hands emerging from behind her. She looked into her own eyes, studying the ecstasy they conveyed, the lust they could barely contain. The woman in the glass was slowly transforming into a brazen slut, ready to be turned into a pure animal, existent only to be fucked.

In the present, her hands recreated the image by pulling the blouse over her shoulders, throwing it contemptuously to the floor, and then letting the unhooked bra fall brazenly at her feet. Hungrily and savagely, she mauled her own breasts, squeezing them tightly letting the flesh roll through her tightening fingers. She clasped them hard, pointing her nipples toward her own mouth as her tongue reached out to greet them. The tip explored her areolae, wetting them with strings of salivation. All the while, her eyes never left the woman in the glass; the slut who had ceded all control over her body.

Stewie unfastened the knot in her robe at the same time that her own hands slid the belt end out of the buckle. The robe in the past felt to the floor at the same time that a tight pair of jeans peeled away in the present. Stewart grasped her and spun her to face him, where her hands immediately jumped around his neck, pulling his lips to hers as her tongue desperately explored his mouth. 

Her fingers desperately fell to the buttons on his shirt, and she fidgeted with one or two before raw instinct took over and forced her to just tear the rest of them open. She buried her face in his sculpted, hairy chest, tracing the lines of his pecs with her lips. She was only barely aware of the work her hands were doing below. By the time she became conscious of it, his pants were already around his ankles, and she was stroking his thick, hardened cock through his boxers. All the while, his hands had fallen to her ass, squeezing and gripping every inch of supple flesh they could hold. She only moaned and ground her loins against his, anxious for them to meet.

With one mighty shove, he pushed her on the bed and loomed over her like a predator. He kicked both his boxers and pants to the side as trivialities, his eyes focused on her and only her. She crawled backward, obstensibly to escape the encroaching beast, but, in reality to invite him onto her bed. Into her nest. Where she would soon be seeded. 

In reality, Ariadne was lain upon her bed, desperately touching every inch of her body that her hands could find. She was hot, so very hot, and the sweat only made it the job much easier for her fingers. Lightning sizzled on every nerve she touched, keeping her locked in passion's grip, incapable of escaping until it had its fill. Invitingly, her legs slowly began to spread.

On the next memory, her fingers finally explored the intricacies of her womanhood. The left index and middle held the folds of her pussy open while the right rubbed vigorously against her exposed clit. In recollection, Stewie's tongue was doing the task, but both past and present Ariadne enjoyed the orgasmic wave that swept through her body. In the past, her hands felt through her husband's hair, but in the present, they were busy with their task, doing an admirable job of recreating the thrill she had felt that day.

When she cried out during her second orgasm, Stewart recognized what it meant. His head rose from between her legs, and his toned and chiseled body rose like an Adonis as he moved to mount her. Her hands invited him, pulling him closer, acknowledging that she was his to tame. She felt the tip of his shaft at her entrance, and her pussy quivered with anticipation. Her left hand gripped it tight, guiding it perfectly to her slit. She looked into his eyes, pleadingly, and finally, his hips inched forward.

As the head sank into her opening, her entire body convulsed. Her hands fell to the side and gripped the sheets tight. Her eyes closed shut tight and her knees bent. She panted hard as he sank further, pushing deeper and deeper into her most sacred territory. Every inch thrilled her and only left her starved for more. The walls of her pussy tried gripping the side of his cock and pulling it further, treading more of it inside. 

Finally, he was to the hilt, leaving her pussy completely and utterly stuffed. In reality, two of her fingers were doing the best they could to authenticate the memory, though her lust was more than capable of compensating. 

In the past, he fucked her. In the present, she fucked herself . . . steadily and deliberately, her pussy accepted the rigorous workout eagerly. Its muscles stretched in every direction, her juices lubricating its walls. Mentally,she was completely lost now—with her eyes still shut, only a few rudimentary senses remained. She could feel her hips thrusting hard against the mattress with every penetration. She could smell the sex that misted through the bedroom, only intensifying the beast within them. She could taste her lover's tongue as he leaned forward to kiss her. She could hear the savage grunts of her mate as he rigorously pounded into her, along with the smack-smack of his flesh against hers. 

How long this lasted, she could not say. Enough time passed for her legs to be moved from around his waist to atop his shoulders, to against her chest, and locked back around his waist again. Her eyes sprang open when she heard his breath quicken, when his grunts became more urgent. 

"Do it," she demanded breathlessly. She locked her legs around him, preventing any escape. "Look into my eyes as you breed me. Let us gaze into each other as we make our baby."

He complied, all too eagerly and excitement filled Ariadne as her lover—her husband—looked into her soul, moments away from seeding her with their first child. The first of many. 

Finally, he grunted and she cried "Yes!". She felt his cock spasm inside her as jets of hot, molten lust poured out and flooded her domain. Her hands pulled on his ass, pushing him as deep inside as was physically possible. She thrust her hips up to greet his, letting her pussy muscles work to take as much baby-making milk as they possibly could. Her womb was starved for it. Until tonight, it had been so empty, but not anymore. 

After tonight, everything would be right.

In the present, Ariadne opened her eyes coming to reality for the first time since she stepped into her bedroom. She gasped for breath, finding her body surprisingly exhausted and thoroughly naked. She sprang upward, trying to make sense of the events which led to this moment. She glanced to the side and saw her clothing thrown on the floor. She looked across the bed and found it in total shambles, with a deep dark puddle set right between her legs. Her skin felt remarkably sensitive, and her pussy intensely sore. Yet, she felt better than she had in years. Better than she had any time since . . . that day.

The only thing she remembered was the pleasure. The intense euphoria that came from being well and thoroughly fucked. It had been so long that she had almost forgotten it existed. 

She pulled her knees tightly against her naked chest and glanced at the woman in the mirror, the wrecked mess covered in sweat and disheveled hair. She stared at the one who had fucked her and reawakened the slut within. She greeted the woman with a coy smile, and the woman returned one back.

"You'll do," she whispered, resting her head against her knees. For now."

To Be Continued . . .

Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 02



Ariadne never really understood what happened to her that night, but the change was sudden and significant. For ten years, she had buried something powerful and carnal . . . something that had only mutated and grown with passing neglect. . . something she had once ignored to pour everything of herself into raising her son—the last living link to her husband. It had existed there all along, just waiting for the door to open just a peek and help it manifest in full force.

Oh, she had certainly masturbated before, most often in her teen years before she met Stewart, but she was still a young girl that knew nothing about sex or the secrets of her own body. Then once Stewart had come along, she never had any need of it. She saved her body and its pleasures for him and him alone; a habit that, in retrospect, must have become commonplace by the time he passed. In the ten years following his death, Ariadne had never really thought of sex all that much, it was like after the tragedy, a switch just been set to 'off'.

Well now, she had gone and flipped that switch again. It was on. God almighty, was it on.

For the first time in her life, Ariadne was eager to discover the woman she saw in the mirror. The slut she had seen a taste of that night. She felt like a teenager all over again, giddy to experiment . . . to try new things . . . to find new ways to test her flesh.

As she'd promised herself the night before, she took a shopping trip. Only, instead of going to the clothing outlet as planned, she took a trip to the opposite end of the mall, where a quaint sex and novelty shop was stashed away in the corner. Upon entrance, her nostrils flooded with a scent she hadn't experienced in over ten years—fresh leather, rubber and incense permeated through the tight spaces of the sex shop, adding a rush of excitement that she hadn't anticipated.

Part of her felt that she shouldn't be here . . . that this wasn't the place for a woman like her.

But she stayed. She simply couldn't leave. Something within was bolstering her courage . . . highlighting her eagerness.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. She felt the same rush —the familiar feeling as conscious thought melded seamlessly with inner lust. She tried to find that hidden place . . . that secret which hid something dark and forbidden. She dreamt of it . . . her mind constructed the doorway, and she reached for it. She pushed it open, just a little.

When her eyes opened again, the switch had pulled once again. The "slut" was in control.

Unflinchingly, she took a handbasket and began picking items from the racks and shelves, tossing them inside one after another. No reasoned thought drove her choices; no calculated interest swayed her. She allowed the lust which seeped from her core to choose for her—snatching up items which made her body tremble and her pussy moist with possibilities. She piled them on, one after another, until the first handbasket was full.

By the time she was finished, there were three of them, each filled to the brim with toys. She placed them all on the sales counter and urged the boy behind the register to hurry with his scanning. Or, at least she thought that's what she was urging. The sidelong glance he held with her for a moment said that he may have interpreted something different.

There was a flash of lust in his eyes, a curiosity about the type of woman who could walk into his store and purchase so much of his inventory in such a short visit. A knowing smirk rose on his pierced lip and his head shook with disbelief.

"Well, I guess you're planning some pretty interesting nights, huh?" he remarked.

"That's what I'm going for," she answered with a smile of faux-innocence.

"You . . . uh . . . you got anybody to help you try some of this stuff?"

Her head cocked to one side. "Nooooo. . . . Why?"

"Just saying. You might, ah, need someone to teach you."

She licked her lips at the thought, pure lust driving her. This boy was half her age, not much older than her own son. He paled in comparison to Barry's sturdy build, however. And while the boy certainly wasn't bad looking in any sense, his thin features really did nothing for her. She was almost horny enough that it didn't matter, but she wasn't that far gone yet. Her body knew well what it wanted, and she didn't this child could offer.

She handed over a check and shook her head in reply. "Thanks, but I can manage for now," she said with as friendly a smile as she could muster.

"Alright," the boy shrugged, bagging the last of her items. "But you know where I work, in case you change your mind. Name's Rick. You look like a lady who knows how to have some fun."

And fun is exactly what she had when she got home. When the door slammed behind her, she dropped the bags on the dining room table and kicked the heels from her feet. She shed her clothes hurriedly, tossing layer upon layer to the floor until her slender figure emerged stark naked. She felt the force inside her growing stronger, more impatient with her. Her pussy was dripping with urgency.

Again, when she woke later in the evening, she hardly remembered a thing. All she knew was that her pussy was dreadfully sore, and yet felt the best it had in ten years. She didn't remember anything she did, only that the pleasure had made it impossible for to think. She had transformed from Ariadne to "the slut" yet again.

And she needed more.

It took all of October and most of November for her to grow bored with her purchases. She had used each one of them. . . in every hole her body possessed . . . sometimes at the same time. But it wasn't enough anymore. That slut inside was growing stronger, and she needed stronger toys to compensate.

She made plans to go back, once she managed to catch up on her work. She had been dividing most of her time between her home décor business and her new "hobby", and at first it was hard to balance the two. She vaguely remembered that the first few days, she hardly got out of bed at all. By the end of the week, she was somewhat functional, but she was still prone to fits where she would just stop everything she was doing with the sudden craving to stick something inside her. It could happen anywhere in the house, at any time, and she would wake up back on the bed some hours later. During the next week, she finally established enough control to get through her day, but she had stopped wearing clothes outright and she almost always had something stuffed inside her holes at all times.

By this point, Ariadne had resigned to referring to herself by two different names. The normal, everyday personality was still just plain old "Ariadne Garrett", and the wanton, hypersexual personality was simply called "the slut". She felt a little silly calling herself by two different names, but often helped her cope with some of the more brazen things she tried. When calling herself "the slut", she lost all inhibition, all fear and restriction. It wasn't Ariadne who walked around the house stark nude—that was "the slut". It wasn't Ariadne who kept a finger in her pussy while on the phone with her business clientele—that was "the slut". And it certainly wasn't Ariadne who refused to wear panties and often fingered herself in public places—that, too, was the dirty, wicked "slut". It was quite the convenient half-truth, and Ariadne was beginning to invest in it wholesale.



What the heck happened to me?! She wondered solemnly. She had never been this type of person before, even when her husband had been around. Sure, she was his slut whenever he needed her to be, but she wasn't this brazen about it. When the "slut" was loose, the very thought of having to wear clothes disgusted her now. They served no purpose, except saving precious seconds that her body could be using for pleasure.

In her saner, more lucid periods, she sometimes Googled "nymphomania", "hypersexuality" and "sex addiction", worried about her sudden transformation, but from what she could tell, she wasn't suffering from anything like that. Her "hobbies" were beginning to balance with her normal life pretty seamlessly now. According to her research, the first sign of addiction is an inability to maintain a normal life alongside whatever other "needs" she had. That certainly wasn't the case for now: she was still getting work done even as she typed at her computer screen fulfilling client orders while sitting around stark naked, with a string of beads in her ass.

She felt a singe of relief at that, secure in the knowledge that as long as she could maintain her normal life, everything would be peachy-keen.

She kept up this habit for quite some time, and by Thanksgiving, she was becoming quite settled into it.

"Yeah, I'm homesick. I'm not gonna lie to you. And I don't wanna eat any of the crap they serve around here for Thanksgiving, that's for sure. I need some of what you got over there. Nobody does Thanksgiving like you, Ma."

Barry's voice paused a moment before he continued, "Ma? You there? Ma. Ma!?"

Ariadne's head rose from the mattress and she desperately gasped for air, wheezing as she tried to force the surge of her orgasm to recede. She picked up the receiver at her side, and turned off the speaker and mute.

"Yes baby, I'm here. I'm sorry." Her finger disappeared into her slit up to the knuckle. "I'm just working so hard . . ."

"Huh. I thought you usually took time off from your business stuff during this time of year."

"Yeah, well . . . I . . . with you gone, I just need something to keep me busy."

"I guess that makes sense. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'll be home in a few days. Seeya when I seeya."

He hung up the phone and Ariadne dropped just let the receiver fall to the floor. She placed both hands between her legs and forced as many fingers into her pussy that she could manage at one time.

The night before Barry was to finally come home, Ariadne spent a long session in her dream, having her first real heart-to-heart conversation with "the slut".

"Okay, listen you," she said, staring intently into the lustful eyes of the woman inside the mirror. "My son comes home tomorrow, so all of this will need to stop while he's here . . . just until he's left again."

You can't keep me away for that long, the slut answered with a smirk.



Ariadne felt her own hand rubbing against her thigh, stoking the body's fires with lust.

Mmmm . . . N-No!" She scolded herself, yanking her hand away. "This was fun while I was alone, but I'm not going to let Barry think his mom has become some disgusting, sex-crazed old cougar. Hell, I can barely even convince myself that I'm not! He's the only thing I have left, and I don't want you driving him away!

"So please . . .! Just for as long as Barry is here, let me have control again." She bit her lip. "You can do whatever you like with me, as soon as Barry leaves home again."

Mmmmmmm . . . The slut purred, her hips swaying and naked breasts bouncing as she walked closer to Ariadne. You have a deal. Her finger tips reached out and stroked Ariadne's own naked breast. But, as you know, Barry isn't here YET . . .



Once again, when Ariadne awoke, it was a slippery body and a sore pussy. She prayed that this would be the last such night, until Barry was safely back at school.

Barry's plane arrived at 10:25, and Ariadne was waiting at the terminal when it arrived. She eagerly greeted her handsome boy with a hug, and he showed off his strength by lifting her up from her heels and swinging her in an arch.

"Careful!" she demanded playfully. "Your mother is a little too old for acrobatics!"

"Aw, I wasn't gonna hurt ya," Barry said nonchalantly. "But anyway, how've you been, Ma?"

"Oh, like I said, busy busy busy."

"Oh really? I thought after getting me out of the house, you'd start throwing wild parties every night or something."

She scoffed. "I'm not like you, young man. And you better not be throwing parties either. You're at that school to study."

Barry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. But, anyway, I've been itching for one of those greasy burgers from Nick's. They don't have those in Cali, either."

Ariadne glanced back toward the baggage claim. "What about your luggage . . .?"

"Oh, I didn't bring anything," Barry told her. "I got all the stuff I'll need in my old room. I prefer to travel light, if I can."

The strange habits kids can develop after leaving the nest, Ariadne thought.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go get you that burger, honey. My treat."

The restaurant was more crowded than they would have liked, so they just took their order to go and decided to eat back home. Barry didn't wait that long, of course, and began stuffing his mouth as soon as he got in her car.

"Sorry, Ma," he said through a mouthful, "it was a long plane ride."

She just shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, right. That's no excuse, boy."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, mom. We can't all be high paragons of self-control like you."

Those words punched a bit of sore spot, forcing Ariadne to swallow a lump in her throat. Is that what he saw her as? A "paragon of self-control"? Thank God he hadn't seen her these last few months, then. He never would have recognized the woman that raised him. She couldn't ever let him find out. She had to remain in control, no matter what it took.

But, she could feel her pussy moistening just from the thought of what she had done. Even now, how much control did she really have? She hadn't even bothered wearing any panties to the airport, and here she was, sitting a foot or two away from her son, who didn't have any clue about what she had done. About the urges that she kept locked away.

God help her, she was getting horny just from the naughtiness of it.

"Mom!"

Startled, she immediately snapped back to reality, only now becoming aware of the finger stimulating her clit.

"Er . . . what? What is it, honey?" She asked, placing both hands back on the wheel.

"You didn't hear what I asked, did you?"

"No, baby, I didn't. Sorry, I must have dazed off a bit . . ."

"Pfft. Geez, I didn't know I was that boring . . ."

"No, no! You're not, sweetheart. I'm just . . . thinking a lot about work."

"Man, it's just work work work with you these days. If it's that boring in the house, why don't you get out and do something? Make some friends?"

"No, that's okay . . . I'm fine . . . really."

Barry sighed. "If you say so. Anyway, in a weird way, I guess you answered what I asked."

"What was the question, sweetie?"

Barry chuckled. "I asked if you'd found a boyfriend."

Ariadne choked. "W-What?! Of all the--? What would possess you to ask me that!?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's going on 11 years since Dad died, and now that you're all alone, I thought . . ."

"No. No, I'm fine, sweetie. I've got it under control."

"Well, I wasn't doubting that you did, but . . . I mean, well, you're my Ma and all, but you're still a woman . . ."

"Please, Barry, can you just drop this? This isn't right for us to be talking about." Her voice was disapproving, but her pussy lips were moistening.

Barry crossed his arms and leaned back. "Fine."

Things were quiet the rest of the trip home, and Ariadne's little close call motivated her to maintain tight self-control for the duration of the day. Barry, naturally, trudged right off to his room and turned on his videogames with nary a word. In the meantime, Ariadne knew she needed to get things ready for Thanksgiving dinner. She would be cooking most of the meal on her own, from scratch, so it was important to get things started.

Thirty minutes later, while she was taking inventory of everything she would need, she realized that she didn't have enough eggs. She could have sworn that she'd had more than this, but then again, she hadn't exactly been making regular trips to the store anymore. At least, not since . . .

Anyway, she knew she was going to need some eggs, but she didn't want to waste time on preparations. There was only one thing left to do.

"Barry, honey?" she called through the house, hoping her son could hear her from his bedroom. After a second, he came into the kitchen. "I need some eggs from the store. Mind grabbing some for me?"

"Aw, and I just turned on my Playstation . . ."

"Oh, well," she shrugged, "I guess if you don't want me to finish Thanksgiving dinner, then neverm—"

"Okay, okay . . . I'm going . . . ."

She tossed him the keys to her car. "Good boy. Be sure to check them before you buy them."

"I know, I know! Geez!"

After Barry left, Ariadne went back to work, gathering ingredients and utensils. It wasn't long after, however, that she began to get that same feeling of isolation as she had on the night Barry had left for college. Pausing from the task at hand, she looked around at the empty house, feeling that same sense of loneliness.

It wasn't until a few seconds later that she realized that one of her hands was rubbing her breast through her blouse yet again.

"No," she said to herself. "You promised. You promised to wait until Barry went back to college . . .!"

I made no such promise, the slut answered from within. I promised to wait until 'Barry left home'. And guess what he just did . . .?



Ariadne moaned as her hands slipped under her blouse. "But that's . . . that's not what I meant—"

Then you should haven't chosen you words more carefully. And don't forget YOUR end the deal. You promised that you wouldn't fight me again if I waited until he left. Do you plan to renege it?

Ariadne had no choice. The beast inside her had her trapped. "No."

She dropped everything and rushed into her bedroom. After she kicked the door closed, she dove underneath her bed and grabbed the extra-long dildo along with the KY. After fingering her asshole for a minute, she slowly began to work the hard metal tool into the opening. Her ass didn't see much action, so it was still incredibly tight. It created a surreal suction around the dildo as it slid inside, inch after inch. Ariadne was already cumming, gripping the sheets as she shook through a powerful orgasm. The slut instinct still kept tight control over the rod in her ass, giving it a nice, smooth stir as it explored the walls in her anus.

The slut knew everything that Ariadne wanted. Every time she felt one orgasm subside, there was another one right on its heels. There she was, pushing and pulling the dildo in and out of her own ass, but it felt like surrender. It made feel that much hotter to believe that there was something else inside doing it to her. It let her unleash a wilder side . . . a side willing to take risks in the name of pleasure. A side uninhibited by fear or "decency". With that side in control, she wasn't touching herself . . . she was fucking herself.

"Oh God . . .! Oh, Goooood . . ." Ariadne moaned.

Look into the glass, the slut commanded her. I want you to watch yourself being fucked.



Ariadne opened her eyes and glanced into the glass. The delirious look of ecstasy in her eyes added more flame to the lust burning inside. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth wide and panting, completely lost to the bliss she experienced.

She pounded the dildo in and out of her ass faster, ready to let the slut fuck herself with total abandon. "Yes! Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!" she shouted. "Fuck—"

But just then, her eyes caught something else in the glass. Somehow, the door was ajar, and there was a pair of eyes watching . . .

"Oh shit . . .!" She pulled the dildo out of her ass and turned. Her eyes went wide when she recognized the intruder. "Barry?!"




Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 02



"Oh, fuck . . .!" Barry shouted, stumbling onto his back, kicking the door wide open as he fell.

Ariadne reached for a pillow to cover herself with, her heart pounding fiercely and her face flush with embarrassment. "Goddammit, Barry! What are you doing here?!"

"I n-needed some money and I was . . . I . . . I—" He stopped, attempting to cover his exposed, stiff cock with his hands. "What am I doing!? What are you doing?! Is this why you wanted me out of the house . . .?!"

She found her eyes unable to leave the stiff cock bursting through his fly. "Oh God, Barry . . . that . . . what I did turned you on!?"

Barry finally got to his feet again and tried to fix his exposure. "No, I . . . I was just . . . surprised and . . ."

Ariadne leaned closer, her voice falling to an awed whisper. "Were you masturbating to me?!"

Barry continued stammering. "Look, Ma, it's not what . . ."

She wasn't listening. She couldn't hear anything else, or see anything else for that matter, except the growth between his legs.

Ariadne was no longer here. The 'slut' had taken full control.

Slowly, she crawled off the bed on all fours, her naked body inching toward him. "Oh God, Barry . . . I did that to you . . .?"

"Don't look, Mom! Please don't l—"

Before he knew it, she had pounced. In one fell swoop, she had placed almost her entire mouth around his cock, bobbing her head up and down while her hands and knees were pressed to the floor. A momentous shock paralyzed Barry in his tracks, preventing him from backing away, preventing him from doing anything from watching with his mouth agape.

"M-Mom . . . ungh . . . w-what are you doing?!"

She didn't bother answering. Her mind was completely gone, just like the first night after he'd left home. She wasn't consciously controlling any actions; nothing she did or wanted could be justified by reason anymore. Everything was fueled by lust—just pure animal lust, and she was powerless to stop it. No, even if she hadn't been powerless, she would have wanted to.

And it wasn't long before Barry's resistance drained away, the pleasure from his mother's mouth becoming too potent to fight.

She sensed his rising eagerness and lifted her mouth from his tasty shaft, giving one last lick to sample his pre-cum. She gazed upward at him as her hand enveloped his manhood, adding a few strokes to incubate it her warmth.

 Then she stood, looking him the eyes as she did so . . . his confused, but eager eyes.

"Take this off," she breathed, pulling his t-shirt upward.

He didn't hesistate. In less than a second, that shirt was away, leaving only his toned, hairless body for her to touch.

The shape . . . the build . . . so much like his father. The comparison only tipped the scales of her desire.

Her fingers went to work on his belt, and he didn't need an invitation this time. He undid the buckle immediately, unfastened his pants, and slid them and his shorts down at the same time.

Now, she could fully admire her son's naked body . . . study it in a different light. Not as a mother looking over her child, but as a woman with needs looking over a man who could fill them.

She wanted this. She needed this.

"Come here," she said, grabbing his hand and yanking him to her bed. She sat back on it and pulled him closer, forcing his body to arc over hers as she laid back on the sheets.

"I need you, Barry," she growled. "I need you."

Unlike her, Barry still had a sliver of reason somewhere. It was that part of him that manifested at this moment. "Mom, are you sure about this? What we're about to do, it's—"

She responded by pulling his head close and kissing him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. When she pulled away, she only swallowed hard and said, "Do it. Fuck your mommy."

That broke every last bit of resistance he could manage. Barry descended on her like a beast, placing his mouth at her breasts and sucking hard on her nipples. She gasped and moaned as she watched him, urging him on with an arching posture. Her hands explored his naked shoulders, absorbing the chiseled texture of his broad shoulders. It had been so long since she had touched a man's flesh . . . and she was not disappointed with the belated result.

Barry pushed her down onto the mattress and sat up straight. Her eagerness only rising, she spread her thighs as wide as she could for him. Her breath held. Her eyes pleaded. He gave her only one short look before he took hold of his shaft and guided it to her sheath.

She sucked air, lost to the grandeur of feeling a man's cock, made of real, hard flesh rather than dead plastic and steel, touch her pussy. On their own, her hips writhed, hoping to convey her readiness. She wanted this to happen. She needed this to happen. Every second they delayed tore her apart inside.

Then, it finally happened. His hips pushed forward; her son's helmet entered her.

She threw back and panted, having anticipated for this moment for the past ten years. Somehow, this felt meant to be . . . like the past decade had built to this exact moment. She had waited so long, and now finally, she could enjoy it.

"Take me," she demanded. "Take me and make me yours."

That flipped something inside the teenager. Barry's entire body thrust forward, the fully length of his cock became buried into her mound. Ariadne yelped in pain, digging her nails into her son's back. He leaned his full weight onto his hands as his hips began to piston back and forth into her pussy. She had told him to make her his, and he seemed eager to do just that. He pumped her pussy like a farmer pumped a cow, like a contractor pounded a nail. He pumped hard and pounded fast—he showed it who was boss. It made her delirious . . . drove her crazy. The pain faded into dull memory, replaced only by wild, unbridled pleasure.

"Oh god, faster! Faster! Fuck me, honey! Fuck me!"

He moaned his satisfaction and did just what she asked. His dick slid faster and faster in and out of her pussy. She watched as the glistening shaft appeared and disappeared inside her wet hole time and time again. Her nails dug into his trunk-like arms, and her legs were dangling high above, flailing wildly with the pounding between her thighs.

God, how he fucked her. He jackhammered like a relentless machine, using his youth energy to piston the length of his cock in and out of his mother's defenseless pussy. She orgasmed right away and then orgasmed again when that one receded. She glanced up into her sons face, taking a moment to absorb the intensity of his lust, before remembering that he was her firstborn. Her one and only. She was letting her own child use her pussy for his pleasure.

She couldn't describe the feeling. Pride? Was it pride? Did she feel proud that her son was the one to lay claim to her pussy? To make her feel this good? Her body shivered from every impact, from each thrust he pushed into her. Something so powerful, so magnificent. She had created it. Raised it. And now, she was enjoying the fruits of it.

"Give it to me, my son . . . my lover. Oh, God . . . that feels so good."

"God, Ma . . . I'm gonna cum."

"Yes, yes!" She shouted immediately. "Cum inside me! Fill me!"

"But . . . but . . ." He tried to raise an objection, but it was difficult for him to talk and fuck intently at the same time.

"Please, do it. I need it, Barry. I need to feel it inside me."

Barry moaned at her words. "Tell me again, mom. Tell me again."

She reached up and clasped his head with both hands, pulling his body down onto hers.

"Fuck your mommy and cum inside her. Fuck your slut. Cum deep inside her pussy. Fill it up. Fill my pussy with your thick seed. Fuck it all into me!"

His mind snapped. Barry grunted and lurched forward, collapsing onto her as he released. She gripped him tightly, holding his body against hers as she felt his potent seed bursting from his cock and flooding her pussy. She felt it deep in her womb, splashing against the cervix, coating her insides with liquid heat. It made her scream with an orgasm, enjoying the pleasure of surrender.

After the plateau, the slow descent to earth began. Exhausted, their naked bodies still intertwined, mother and son simply stayed in post-coitus embrace. Neither one wanting to move . . . neither one want to acknowledge that it had ended.

To Be Continued



Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 03



The mood was awkward between the couple for some time afterward. Neither said a word, and Ariadne only lightly stroked her son's back as they lay there, their skin marinated with cum and sweat. After about ten minutes or so, Barry gently began to move, turning himself to face her and gaze into her eyes. For the first time since they'd begun, she began to contemplate what she had done and whom she had done it with. Her thoughts, once tinted by lust, became clearer once again.

A short time later, Barry kissed her forehead, rolled out of bed, and quietly gathered his things on the way out. Ariadne just lay on her side and watched him go, all the while feeling the syrupy cum leaking out of her naked pussy. She didn't raise a word to stop his exit. Conflicting emotions raged in her heart and mind, and she wanted to be alone to try and get a grip on them.

The slut slowly faded, and Ariadne alone was left to face the consequences of her actions. She remained still for sometime in that silent dark, until exhaustion finally claimed her and pulled her back into sleep.

When her consciousness was put to rest, she returned to her vivid dreams.

"God, what did I just do . . .?" she gasped.

It's simple, sweetie. You got everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and MORE.

"My own son . . .? How could I . . . how could I let that happen?"

If it makes you feel better, just say that it wasn't you. It was me . . . The slut that lives deep inside you. You surrendered your body to me, but it was the slut that was in control.

"But it was still my body and I . . . God, I enjoyed that . . ."

Oh, I know. The 'slut' responded cooly, licking her lips. So did I. So what's the problem?

"Everything! I might have just ruined my son's life! God, what if this gets out!? I could lose my business, never be able to show my face anywhere again. Oh, Jesus . . . could I be arrested for something like this?"

Barry is a grown man. He knew what he wanted.

"But . . . he's still a teenager. What if he was just confused, and I took advantage of that . . .?"

You saw what he was doing outside of your door. He watched you with lust in his eyes. He saw you doing nasty things to yourself, and he got off on it. He wanted to be doing those things to you . . . and you gave him the opportunity. You've given him more than any loving mother ever has.

"God, that just sounds so wrong, but maybe . . . maybe. . . No. What I did wasn't right. There's no way I can get around it or justify it."

But it made you happy. You can't deny that.

Ariadne bit her lip. "No . . . I can't. But, what about Barry? What if this destroys him? What if it makes him unhappy?"

What's done is done. The only way to find out is to wait and see.

Ariadne lay in her bed for some time before finally she started gathering her clothes from the floor and slipping back into them. She couldn't erase what had just occurred, but she could at least put it out of her mind while she got back to work. She still had a Thanksgiving to prepare for . . . although she didn't even know whether her family would still be left intact after today.

She kept at it until later that evening, after darkness had fallen outside. Finally, she heard a key enter the front door and the knob turn. Barry came inside with a grocery bag and a cautious look in his eye.

"I . . . uh . . . I got those eggs for you, Ma."

"Oh, um, t-thanks, Barry. Just, ah, put them on the counter."

As he came into the kitchen, each step was careful and considerate. His face remained flush as he placed the eggs on the counter and stepped back.

Neither of them made eye contact, and within a few seconds, neither of them could perform comfortably in front of the other. Ariadne tried to focus on her cooking, but her movements were very slow and very deliberate, as though she were doing this for the first time in her life. At the same time, Barry stood just on the other side of the counter, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, eager to say something, but unsure what.

Soon, it became clear how awkward they felt around each other. They didn't look like two people who even knew each other . . . let alone a family.

This was exactly the sort of thing Ariadne had been afraid of. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen.

After more awkward silence, it was Barry who spoke first. "So, ah, M-Ma? Do you . . . um . . . do you want to talk about, um—"

She bit her lip and her eyes lowered. "No . . . Not now, Barry." Her voice lowered into a quiver. "Please."

He sucked between his teeth and nodded dejectedly. "A-Alright. Well, um . . . I'm gonna be in my room, so . . . let me know if you need me." Those words made them both cringe. "For the dinner, I mean. Let me know if I can help with the dinner."

He sauntered off quickly after that and closed his door behind him.

When he was out of sight, Ariadne's emotions finally flooded and she sunk to her knees, her eyes bursting with tears.

"Oh God . . . Oh God . . ." she hugged her arms against her chest as she sobbed. "I knew it. I-I've ruined everything. I've destroyed everything between us."

The next day was no better. Barry and Ariadne barely spoke to each other all through Thanksgiving day, only exchanging dialogue vital to maintaining a daily life. They avoided eye contact whenever possible, and they never came even within a full yard of one-another. It was positively torturous, and Ariadne felt a bit of heart die each and every second it continued. She wanted desperately, so desperately to talk about what had happened, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. There was this giant elephant just sitting in the house with them, and Ariadne couldn't bear to acknowledge it, not even to try to save any semblance of love between her child and her.

She had become a complete failure as a mother.

They went to bed in separate rooms, where Ariadne felt her body grow hot again. Though it made her feel dirty, she touched herself again and kept a faithful watch on the door. Part of her long to see it open, just a hair . . . to see a pair of eyes staring at her through the dark. The thought got her off—it drove her mad with lust.

It would let her know that he had forgiven her. That he didn't see what happened before as a mistake. That she wasn't the world's worst parent.

But it never came true. This time, the door never moved.

Things grew even worse the rest of the holiday weekend. She and Barry barely saw one-another, let alone spoke. He just stayed in his room the whole time, playing those damn games. She sat in the front room watching television or checking her laptop for client orders. She did whatever it took to try and get her mind off of the situation, but still it lingered in the back of her mind, just hanging there like a hangman's noose.

But their strained relationship wasn't Ariadne's only lingering concern. On Saturday, she took a trip to the drug store and bought a home pregnancy test; despite being a lustful wreck at the time, she distinctly remembered that her son had emptied his balls into her pussy, and despite being so much older, she was as much a fertile woman as he was a nubile young man. At the time it happened, she was overcome by her slut side that she thought of nothing except the needs of her body. But now that she was back to Earth, there were consequences to consider. There were things that needed doing.

She never told Barry where she was going, and only casually shouted that she would be back in a bit. Going into the drug store and buying the pregnancy test was one of the most awkward things she had done in her entire life—though she knew that it had to be a completely normal occurrence, and she'd of course done it before twenty years ago, the circumstances were much different this time. Or at least, for her they were. To everyone else in the store, she was just another thirty-something, over-the-hill brunette that seemed a tad socially inept.

How could they imagine that she may have been pregnant with her own grandchild?!

Returning home, Ariadne performed the test quietly and set it aside to wait the necessary five minutes. Since a watched pot never boiled, she looked around for something to do for the time needed. She decided to listen to one of her favorite songs, which ran for about four minutes and thirty-nine seconds. That should give the test plenty of time, she thought.

Except she barely even heard the music at all. Her eyes were constantly on the minute-second counter, and her eyes constantly darted back to the bathroom. Her foot tapped nervously, and she started chewing her fingernails for the first time since she was a little girl. It was even impossible to for her to find a comfortable angle to sit in—her heart was racing so fast that she couldn't help but feel restless.

Why were these five minutes taking so long!? Why did every tick of the clock seem to take longer each time!?!

Finally, the music stopped and Ariadne raced out of her seat and ran back to the bathroom. She picked up the indicator and held her breath.

Negative.

She sighed, and fell back on the wall, rubbing her forehead. So she wasn't pregnant after all. That was . . . a good thing, right?

And yet, why did part of her feel disappointed by the news?

It couldn't be that something inside of her wanted to have her own son's baby . . .?

No, it wasn't her that wanted it. Despite what had happened, despite what it might have cost her, the "slut" was still there. For the most part, things had slowed down just a tad after what she and Barry had done, but she could still feel that side of herself tingling at the back of neck. More than once, she caught herself cupping her own breasts while she sat alone. It was even worse when she thought of the night before Thanksgiving. About how her son had ravaged her pussy . . . staked his claim on what he desired. He had been such a predator. Such a magnificent beast. Such a man.

Despite everything she knew was moral, she couldn't deny that she had enjoyed what had happened, and that, if the slut had her way . . . she would do it again.

Sunday came, and she didn't see Barry until it was almost time for his flight back to California, and the only time the two of them got within arms length was inside of her car. The drive to the airport was muted and uncomfortable—the longest damn drive she'd ever taken in her entire life. And when Barry stepped on the plane, it was without a single word. He only gave her a faint, forced smile before heading through the terminal.

As she'd been promised, once Barry was gone again, the wanton slut came out to play. Her time locked away had made her even more restless and impossible to satisfy. The fingers, the nudism, the toys, were simply not enough anymore. As much as Ariadne hated the thought, there was only one reason: the slut's standards had changed after just one sampling of Barry's cock. Dead plastic and metal, unable to truly give or receive, simply didn't do it for her now. Less than a week after Barry returned to California, Ariadne was back at the mall, headed back to the sex shop.

Hopefully, Rick would be there.

Yet, when she entered the shop, she found that he wasn't. Behind the counter was a girl about the same age with short, bleached blond hair and black roots. She was just as skinny as Rick was, and shared some of his taste in fads. Along with her wispy hair, she had black shadow around her eyes and piercing on her nose and lip. She was wearing a white t-shirt with the strap of a pink tank top visible underneath.

She spotted Ariadne as she approached and greeted her with a friendly smile.

"Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Um," Ariadne began, peeking behind the girl at the curtain which led to the employees-only area. "Is Rick here today?"

A sly grin passed through the girl's lips. "Ooooh, you must be Ariadne Garrett."

"Wow. H-How did you know that . . .?"

"Because my brother mentioned you a few months back. Your name was on the check you wrote. Your description kind of stands out from our other customers, and believe me . . . he remembered you. He's going to be pissed that he missed you today, especially when I tell him you asked for him."

"Oh, he's . . . he's out?" Ariadne asked disappointedly.

"Yeah. He's gonna be gone a while. Came down with measles a few days ago. He's probably at home watching Steve Wilkos or something right now."

"Oh. Well . . . I hope he feels better soon," Ariadne said with a warm smile. "Give him my regards."

"Oh I will," the young woman said with a knowing smile. "My name's Emily, by the way. I'm his big sister. Is there anything I can help you with, or were you looking specifically for my brother?"

Ariadne thought about it for a moment. While it was true that she had come here to speak with Rick . . . she hadn't quite made up her mind whether it was with illicit intent or if she just felt more comfortable making her purchases with him. In a manner of speaking, he was her "first", and he really made her feel more at ease about what she had been purchasing. The fact that he seemed enticed by her interests really helped her set aside the pangs of guilt.

But Emily seemed just as nice in that respect, and Ariadne really didn't want to go home empty-handed . . .

"Well, maybe you can help me," she said.

"Sure," Emily nodded.

"I'm, uh . . . I'm looking for something new. The stuff I bought last time worked great, but . . ."

"But it got old after a while, right?"

"Right," Ariadne agreed.

"Oh, trust me, honey, it's pretty normal. Although, I don't think I've seen anyone grow bored with our stuff as fast as you have. I mean, if I remember correctly, you bought quite a lot of products that day."

"Yes . . . I did," Ariadne admitted sheepishly.

Emily cupped her hand under her chin and thought. "Well, what are your interests? If you tell me a bit more about your fetishes, I can point you on the right track."

Ariadne paused at the question—she had never really even thought about her fetishes before. She had hardly even fantasized much about sex in all her life, and the only two people she'd ever done it with were Stewie . . . and Barry.

"I'm not sure," she dismayed. "Sorry, but I never really thought about it."

"Oh, that's okay, hon. Sounds like you're kind of 'vanilla'. A lot of people don't even give fetishes much thought until they've seen the options. So . . . I tell you what: I'll ask some questions and that'll help me learn what I need to know. Cool?"

"Yes," Ariadne agreed.

"Okay, first . . . do you get laid much? Or is most of this for single-player use?"

Ariadne found it harder to answer such a personal question than she initially thought. "Um, 'single-player' I guess."

"Well, that certainly narrows it down. Do you prefer penetration or stimulation?"

"P-Penetration." Ariadne shifted her collar uncomfortably.

"Do you like length or girth?"

"Length."

Emily stepped from behind the counter with a step-ladder. She stepped up and reached for a large box, at least 2-by-1-feet, at the top of a shelf. Once she stepped down, she handed the box to Ariadne. "Here you go," she said. "From what I gather, you'll probably like that. I don't remember seeing it on your purchase list from before."

It was true, Ariadne had never seen this particular item before, but it looked magnificent. Her pussy was already tingling with anticipation for it.

With an aside glance, Emily added: "Although, if you're willing to spend some real dough, there's some other things I could recommend for you . . ."

The mystique in Emily's tone captured Ariadne's curiosity. "What is it?"

"Just a sec," Emily said, pushing a switch on the wall behind her. Suddenly, the gate at the front of the store began to fall, sealing off the entrance, and leaving Ariadne and Emily the only two inside.

"Follow me," Emily directed, disappearing behind the employee curtain.

Ariadne followed her beyond the curtain and past a large office and break room. A minute later, the two headed downstairs, and Emily turned on a light switch to reveal what lurked underneath the store. A huge space, kind of a cross between a storeroom and a workshop, was set up downstairs, with some of the most incredible and intricate machines Ariadne had ever seen. She didn't even know what half of them were supposed to do. There was one that looked like it was built from parts of a motorcycle and an ironing board. Another seemed to be a modified treadmill attached to an oriental rickshaw. Her mind boggled with just what the hell people were meant to do with these things, but her imagination was going wild with possibilities.

"What do you think?" Emily asked.

"It's incredible!"

Emily beamed and backed away, her arms spread outward. "Some of these machines are commercial products, but are only sold on special requests. Others are things that customers have asked Rick and me to put together for them in our spare time. We don't do that too often, though. Too much time, and we don't have the staff or budget to run safety tests and shit like that. If a customer hurts themselves on our crap, it's bad for business."

Ariadne couldn't believe it. "You and your brother build sex machines in your spare time?"

"Well, I design 'em. Rick builds 'em. I'm an artist and Rick's in school to become an engineer. This started as kind of a little side project for us, and we enjoyed it, so we kept at it. Like I said, though, we've had less and less time for it over the years and all, what with me taking over the store and Rick starting school."

Ariadne could only shake her head in astonishment. "Amazing. Really, amazing."

Again, Emily beamed. "Thanks, babe. Now, what I wanted to show you was this way."

Ariadne followed her another corner of the room, where Emily direct her attention to a machine that was small, at least compared to some of the others, and shaped something like a saddle with a dildo pointing up from top. Ariadne stared it over a few times before finally turning to Emily.

"What is it?"

"It's a Sybian," she told her. "I mounted one onto this bench to make it easier for customers to sample it without having to get on the floor if they didn't wanna."

Ariadne's eyes widened. "T-try it out? You mean, I could . . .?"

"Oh sure, if you wanna. I'd have to stick around and supervise for safety concerns, but if you want to go at it, knock yourself out."

"What about your store . . .?"

"Oh please, girl. If I can sell you just one of the things down here, I can afford to leave the shop closed for an hour or two. Besides, I think after the money you dropped last time, you've earned the privileges of a 'preferred' customer."

Ariadne thought about it, and the idea only enticed her further. She'd never done anything like this outside of her home before, and certainly not with an audience. She'd had her little exhibitionist streak in the garden, but that was as far as it had gotten. The idea of letting a complete stranger watch her fuck herself on some machine made her very excited.

Your pussy is tingling just from the thought, isn't it? A voice inside teased. Do it.

"Okay," she said with a swallow. "I'll do it."

"Bitchin'," Emily cheered. "Give me a minute and I'll set it up. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

While Emily did her setup, Ariadne backed away and slipped out of her clothes. It didn't take long—she had stopped wearing a bra and panties ages ago, and her skirt and blouse slid away from her body with ease. She decided to leave her heels on . . . both because the basement floor was cold and because she felt sluttier with them on.




Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 03



A few minutes later, Emily signaled that she was ready. "Go nuts on it, if you want to. Just try to treat it like it's a real dick."

Ariadne felt a little odd at first, not because she was uncomfortable being playful with an inanimate cock, but because it still felt odd for someone to be watching. She couldn't help but continue glancing over the corner of her eye while Emily stood back and watched her bend over and slip her mouth over the machine's phallus. She suckled on it lightly at first, still not yet comfortable with going all out.

"You still seem a bit tense," Emily told her. "If it helps out, try to think of the last good cock you had and imagine that you're getting a repeat."

Ariadne felt those words unlock something inside, and her mind quickly faded into memory. In moments, her consciousness was transported back just a week ago, when she had sampled her first real cock in ages. She recalled how magnificent it had been . . . how warm . . . how sweet. Her senses became overridden with memory—she no longer tasted plastic on her tongue, but Barry's delectable manhood. She ran her tongue along the length, sampling his freshness, taking in as much of his impressive girth as she could possibly stand. She took him into her mouth and pushed the head deep into the back of her throat, sucking every ounce of flavor she could find.

"Damn," Emily gasped in wonder, "was it something I said?"

Ariadne was too delirious with lust to reply. She wouldn't have taken her mouth away from such a titillating object, anyway. Her head stroked back and forth along its length as she worked it like a true cock-hungry whore.

When she finally did ease away from it, it was only so that she could lean forward and smother it between her breasts . . . smooshing them together so that she could feel hardness between her pillowy tits. A tip of the shaft still peeked through, so her tongue dabbed at its tip.

In the meantime, Emily just watched, her expression conveying her surprise at how deeply the older woman seemed to be getting into it.

"I don't think this is just a 'sample' anymore, dear. But, don't mind me. Customer satisfaction is number one at my store."

And sure enough, her body consumed with barely-restrained lust, Ariadne lifter her leg over the bench and positioned her pussy just above the Sybian. With one hand, she spread her pussy lips while the right held the stiff object in place. Then she sat down, and felt the hardness of the object push deeply, spreading the walls of her tight cunt. She rocked her hips back and forth, working it all the way inside, until her ass was resting firmly on the saddle.

"Well, I guess that's my cue . . . " Emily stated, turning a knob at the console before her. Ariadne's body launched backward as her pussy lit with fire. The tremor inside her cunt sparked every nerve in her body and triggered a rush of pleasure that completely shut down her mind. She road the machine like beast, screaming through multiple orgasms, doing her best to stay in perpetual ecstasy. She didn't have try hard—this was a very new and exciting experience for her, and the orgasms rolled by like train cars.

How long she kept this up for . . . half an hour . . . forty-five minutes . . . she couldn't say. All she knew was that at some point, Emily walked beside her and smiled.

"Not that I mind watching your fun, miss . . .but I'm just going to assume that you're going to be wanting this one?"

Ariadne didn't answer. She merely opened an eye to acknowledge the young woman's presence. And then the next second, she grabbed the girl by her upper arm and yanked her forward, pulling her lips directly to her own. Emily's eyes went wide, completely unexpectant of this outcome. At first, she tried to pull away, but Ariadne's grip was stronger than she thought. The older woman's tongue explored her mouth, and their saliva mixed and wetted one-another thoroughly.

And in the next second, Emily gave in.

She pulled both her t-shirt and undershirt off in one fell swoop, exposing her breasts—perky and small in comparison to Ariadne's round orbs. Both women placed their hands one each others' chests and squeezed, however, moaning softly at the pleasantness of feeling another woman's breasts. They kissed once more, sliding their sliding tongues in and out of each-others mouths, over the lips, and under the chin. Their hands wandered everywhere, touching every inch of skin they could find . . .stroking every sensitive spot with the tips of their nails.

The gave themselves to each other . . . their sleek, feminine bodies rubbing against one-another with unabashed desire. Emily pulled Ariadne off of the Sybian and laid her back against the workshop floor, sending a shiver of both chill and excitement through her naked body. Emily then juxtaposed herself, crawling over Ariadne, starting her lips at the breast and then traveling downward. As her lover crawled over her, Ariadne reached out caress the outline of her body. She savored the feel of Emily's smooth skin—she enjoyed encircling her hands around the rose tattoo on the young woman's lower back.

When Emily's face reached Ariadne's pussy, she pushed her nose down deep into her sex, taking a whiff of her womanly scent. Ariadne moaned when breath from the girl's nostrils touched her clit, sending her into a sudden but welcome orgasm. At the same time, Ariadne found Emily's mound—easy to do when the girl had pierced it with a showy piece of jewelry—and stuck her fingers inside. For the first time, Ariadne used her fingers to pleasure a pussy that wasn't hers. It felt surprisingly good.

"Oh yeah," Emily moaned, wiggling her hips against Ariadne's fingers. "Lick it. Please, lick my pussy."

Ariadne did as she was told and stuffed her own tongue into the young lady's snatch. Emily cried out with pleasure, and a trickle of her juices fell upon the older woman's tongue. Unfazed, Ariadne lapped up every drop and then pressed her tongue further and side to try and spur another drizzle. In the meantime, Emily was returning the favor by being attentive to Ariadne's pussy, sticking up to four fingers inside and jacking away the moist insides.

For several minutes, both women moaned and came over and over, their bodies a peachy-colored mass of writhing flesh on the cold basement floor. Ariadne had never been with a lover that responded so well, or who picked up on her own signals so easily. What pleasure Ariadne gave to Emily's pussy, Emily transformed and returned twofold. That then spurred Ariadne to do the same, and the heights of their rapture.

Again, Emily cried, "Oh God, I'm cumming. Cum with me, baby . . . cum with me!"

Both women put every ounce of energy into fucking the other's pussy with complete abandon. Ariadne worked her tongue and teeth on Emily's clit while Emily pounded her hand into Ariadne's pussy to the knuckle. Both women sobbed loudly, their cries echoing through the still workshop. At last, they both climaxed at the same time, both women arching their backs as delight radiated through them.

When it was over, Emily crawled next to Ariadne and lay next to her. Both women continued to tongue-kiss and stroke one-anothers' bodies. The lust was still strong, but their bodies were tapped out completely.

"Oh . . . shit," Emily said, pausing between kisses on Ariadne's nose and lips. "Rick said you looked like a fun kinda girl, but I had my doubts at first. I thought you were some innocent Suzy Homemaker. God-damn, you proved me wrong."

"God, that was . . . incredible," Ariadne cried breathlessly.

"You're tellin' me. You ate a lot of pussy before, Miss?"

Ariadne shook her head. "No. Never before today. You . . . you were my first girl."

"Damn. Color me doubly surprised, then," Emily said, scumming through her pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You were mine, too. I called myself a nice, clean, straight girl before today." She stroked a finger across Ariadne's breast. "Not anymore, though. From here out, I'm bi at least."

Ariadne kissed her again, and Emily hugged her older lover's body closely to her own before offering a second cigarette. "So what now?" Emily asked, sparking a flame for both of them. "This a one-time thing? You gonna just take your Sybian and that'll be that?"

"I don't know," Ariadne said, caressing the young girl's chin. "What do you think?"

"If it's up to me, then there's no way this ends here," Emily told her, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I mean, I ain't lookin' to go outta-state and put a ring on you, but I definitely want to do this again."

Ariadne smiled. "Me too."

"Good," Emily said with another kiss. "I don't think I'm gonna tell Rick about this, though."

"Huh? Your brother? Why not?"

"For one, he'll already be pissed to know he missed you, let alone to find out what we did. If I tell him, he's going to want to participate, or he'll feel left out."

Ariadne licked her lips. "Then why not let him?"

Emily rose an eyebrow. "For two, he's my brother. Sorry, I may have just eaten a stranger's pussy on the basement floor, but that's a little too nasty even for me. I just don't think I could bear to stick my tongue someplace my brother's cock has been."

Ariadne nodded. "I understand."

"But damn you are a freak," Emily added, stroking Ariadne's hair with one hand while squeezing the cheeks of her ass with the other. "I like the kinky you. Never thought I'd say this to another chick, but it definitely turns me on."

Ariadne smiled and moaned at the touch. "Well, if you don't mind keeping the shop closed a little longer, I'm about to get a second wind."

The suggestion widened Emily's grin. After snuffing her stick on the stone floor, she turned to her lover and said, "Oh, I think I can definitely afford that."

To Be Continued...



Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 04



Over the next three weeks, Ariadne's life shifted yet again.

A few days after her encounter with Emily, Emily had arranged for Ariadne's Sybian machine to be delivered . . . along with a few other gifts, free as charge. To Ariadne's surprise, however, Emily came by to oversee the delivery and installation personally. Ariadne was surprised to see the young girl at her doorstep, but let her in along with the muscular moving crew. The two mostly sat around and drank some tea while the men set things up. All the while, Emily and Ariadne exchanged meaningful subtext and shot sly looks from opposite of the dining table. Once or twice, both women even played footsies with one another under the table.

Finally, when the moving crew announced they were done, Ariadne tipped them and saw them to the door. The van hadn't even disappeared down the block when she felt Emily's lips nibbling at her ear and the woman's hands under her blouse.

Emily helped Ariadne "break in" her new toy, and both women took turns riding it, occasionally while the other straddled her face. Eventually, the two wound up in the bedroom, where Emily spent the whole night and called in sick the next morning.   

"Hey, asshole. If I could mind the store for a whole week for your measly ass, you can certainly handle just one day."

Emily did her best to control her breathing, to not give the indication that there was a woman pressed behind her, rubbing her clit and cupping her tits.

"Yeah, I know you've got class later. Just close the shop early if you gotta. I think we'll be good just this once. Alright. Yeah. I love you, too, shithead."

"You call your brother such mean things," Ariadne whispered into her lover's ear.

"Yeah, well, if I didn't he'd think something was up. I had to be my usual bitter self. Couldn't let on that I actually feel really, really damn good at the moment."

"Oh yeah?" Ariadne said, licking her neck. "Show me how good you feel."

The young woman smirked. "Oh, I intend to, sweetie . . ."

Ariadne and Emily's "lesbian" escapades continued throughout December, usually with Emily coming by Ariadne's place and into her bed, but occasionally with Ariadne taking new trips into Emily's workshop and trying out new things. Ariadne soon discovered her first fetish—fucking machines. Especially ones which worked best with her on all fours. There was just something kinky about being bent over and allowing a hydraulic shaft to drill into her ass and pussy that drove her crazy—craz-ier than usual.

And she learned Emily's fetishes, too. Despite her rough-and-tumble look, Emily loved when Ariadne took charge and teased or punished her. Emily was a "stimulation" girl that enjoyed feeling pressure and vibration against her clit rather than actual penetration. Each session with Ariadne caused her to understand why most women thought men were inferior in bed—Ariadne didn't mind taking her time, and she could pick up on the signals of another woman easier than men could.

"Fuck, if I'd known what being with a woman was like all this time . . ." she cried out one night in Ariadne's bed.

"Why didn't you ever try it before?" Ariadne asked, lifting her mouth from Emily's pussy.

"Same reason as you, I guess. Never thought I'd like it. I mean, don't get me wrong . . . all evidence to the contrary, I love men."

"So do I," Ariadne said, punctuating on the irony by nibbling on Emily's clit.

"Unnnngh . . .! Yeah, but most guys can't make me cum, and so few like to eat pussy or can't eat it properly. You're lucky—you get off just on being penetrated, so you can get the most out of a good dick."

That was more true than she imagined, Ariadne thought wistfully.

"Well, I tell you what," she said, gently licking Emily's thighs, "when I find a guy who can do both equally, I'll let you know. And we can both share."

"Oooh!" the very thought brought Emily close to cumming. "Damn, I forgot how dirty your mind can be. But, that idea makes me so wet. You got a deal, sister. Now please, hurry and make me cum . . . I'm so close!"

Ariadne grinned and played with her friend's pussy a little longer, doing just enough to keep her teetering on the edge of orgasm. Emily cursed and pleaded, but she loved the teasing. It only made the real orgasm that much more intense when it finally came.

The times when Emily wasn't around, Ariadne once again found herself thinking about her son—who hadn't written or called since he left. She had taken to drinking some nights, when cold realization struck. Part of her tried to remain optimistic—after all, he hadn't called to ask for her to send all of his things to Cali. . . and she didn't have anyone knocking at her door asking questions about an indecent relationship with her son. Right now, the only thing she had to worry about was the awkward, incessant silence.

And, actually, that was the harshest thing of all.

Soon, Christmastime rolled around and Ariadne couldn't stand it any more. She picked up the phone and called her son's dorm. She made certain to call in the late evening, so she could catch him out of class, but before he went to bed. Shaky fingers punched in the numbers on the touch-tone and she sucked through her teeth as she nervously listened to the ringing line.

A male voice she didn't recognized answered, chuckling on the other end. "Haha—quit that! . . . Dammit, I got the phone, you buttwipe!"

"Er . . . hello?"

"Heeeeey," the voice said, half-drunk. "Who's this?!"

"Um, is Barry there?"

"Barry?" He grumbled loudly. "Oh yeah, hang on a sec. Yo, Barry! There's a hot bitch on the phone for you. Doesn't sound like Suzanna, though. She know you cheating on her?"

Despite herself, Ariadne's cheeks reddened. But. . . what had that other boy said?

Barry . . . had a girlfriend!?

She supposed that she should have been surprised. Barry was a handsome young man, and remarkably fit. She wouldn't have been surprised to know that he had many conquests—even before leaving for Fresno, he was always staying late at parties and bringing girls home with him. She'd never known him to be serious about any of them, but he was only a boy. Now, it only made sense for him to want something more serious.

Oh Lord . . . had she made her son cheat on some poor girl?

"Yo?"

"Barry? Oh thank God you're there, sweetie."

Ariadne heard something cover the receiver and then, muffled, she heard: "Hey! This is my mom, you ass!"

The other voice responded, "Yeah? Well my bad . . . but she sounds like a MILF."

Barry's voice returned to the line. "Hey, what's up?"

Thank goodness he sounded normal, she thought. Or, at the least, he was doing a good job of putting up appearances with his roommates. Either way, she didn't want to keep him too long or make him feel awkward, so she got right to the point.

"Are you coming home for Christmas, honey?"

There was a moment of pained silence on the other end. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I . . . I don't know," Ariadne answered, her lips jittering. "It's just . . . I've never spent Christmas without you, and—"

Barry seemed to pick up that she was starting to cry. His voice lowered to a more tender tone. "Actually, Ma . . . if it's cool with you, I've, uh . . . I've got an internship going on up here in Fresno, and they wanna keep me on through the holidays. I wanna keep on that, if it's okay with you."

Ariadne's heart was positively crushed by her son's response, but she gathered it in and did her best to feign a positive attitude. "That—That's wonderful news, honey! What are you going to be doing?"

"Um . . . actually, I'm not supposed to talk about that right now."

"Oh," she said as the dagger wrenched deeper in her heart. Her vision blurred, left unfocused by the tears pouring forth. He was obviously lying, she knew . . . saying whatever it took to try to avoid breaking her heart. Even after what had happened, and how uncomfortable it had made him, he still thought of her first. He was asking her permission to do something he really wanted to do.

He had grown into such a thoughtful young man.

"Yes, of course, honey. But I just wanted you to know . . . you can come home whenever you like. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah . . . I know. Sorry, Ma," he said dejectedly. "I guess . . . uh . . . I'll see you whenever then, huh?"

"Of course, baby. Sooner than later, I hope."

"Of course, Ma. Bye-Bye."

He hung up abruptly, and Ariadne was left feeling worse than she had before she dialed. Things were still different—he didn't sound like the enthusiastic, assertive Barry who'd called home months before. He was so withdrawn, so distant, and he responded with no eagerness to the idea of returning home. Sure, he said he wanted to, and even protected her honor when his 'friend' made lewd comments, but it felt arbitrary . . . like he was going through the motions of being a good son.

Not for the first time, Ariadne's guilt led her to realize she had made a terrible mistake. She had thought she had the "slut" under control . . . that it wasn't interfering with her life . . . but this was the proof she had been trying to ignore. This was the first sign.

******

Early the next day, Ariadne made a phone call. After a few rings, she heard Emily's voice on the other line.

"Mmmmm . . . hey you," Emily said in a sultry voice, obviously recognizing the Caller ID.

"Hey, Emily. I'm sorry to wake you, but we have to talk."

The young woman's voice seemed to straighten out immediately. It was easy tell by her tone that she was preparing for some kind of bad news. "What about?"

Ariadne bit her lip before speaking her next sentence. "I don't think we can do this anymore."

". . . Why?" Emily asked after a brief pause.

Strange as it was, Ariadne hadn't prepared for that. It was the most obvious word, and the simplest question, but she simply hadn't anticipated that Emily would ask it. Perhaps because she had assumed, since Emily said she didn't want anything serious with another woman, that she wouldn't question the need for a 'break-up' when it happened. Suddenly, Ariadne didn't know exactly what to tell her. She tried to think of something she could say that wouldn't arouse the girl's suspicions or break her heart.

"My son is coming home tomorrow," she lied. "He's coming for Christmas and New Year's."

". . . So?" Emily stated coldly. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Well, I . . .ah . . . I'll probably need to spend time with him during the holidays, and I don't, um, want him suspicious of what his mom's been up to all this time."

"The fuck does that mean?" Emily snapped. "You suddenly ashamed of it, or something?"

"N-No," Ariadne said, "but . . . it's not decent for a boy to know these sorts of things about his mother . . ."

Emily burst into laughter. "Oh, please, honey. You and I were way past 'decent' from giddy-up. Your boy's a grown man, and if he can't handle that Mommy Dearest likes to get her pussy rocked every now and again, that's his problem. Not yours."

This was exactly the reaction that Ariadne didn't want. In part, she could understand the argument that Emily was making, but she really didn't like having to batter logic against her back and forth.

"Please, Emily. I don't want to make this awkward. Can we just agree to be friends from now on?"

"You know what? No." Emily snapped. "Something's up with you, and if you can't even be straight up with me, then hell no we can't be friends. You can come to my store and you can spend your money, but that's it. We're done. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself and all, but you do that well enough already."

"Emily, wait—" But, it was no use. The line went dead, and Ariadne counted yet another person in her life that she had driven away.

She crawled into bed long before the usual hour—she simply didn't feel very much energy or enthusiasm, so she didn't see much point to trying to stay awake. Hopefully, she could just sleep through her misery, and when she woke up, she could figure out how to put this whole nightmare behind her. Beyond her own, she'd ruined so many other lives . . . Barry's . . . Emily's . . . she cared for them both, and it was her own foolhardiness and lewdness which had gotten her into this.

There was only one thing to do: she had to go back into that secret place inside herself, and she had to shut the door she had left open. She had to lock the slut back inside, deep inside, and never let her out again.

Ariadne took a repeat trip to the drug store and purchased some sleeping pills. When she returned home, she took the recommended dosage and laid in bed, clothed in a blouse, bra and panties. She intended to wear them to bed every night from now on, just to make sure that she exorcised her slut side for good.

It wasn't long after her head touched the pillow that she slipped quickly back into her dreams.

She appeared where she wanted to be—she saw the door right in front of her, wider than it had been when she'd left it the last time, standing half agape, large enough for a thinly-built person to slip through.

She stood firm in her resolve, and she remembered her purpose: the door had to be closed, and locked permanently. She reached out for it, her fingers lightly brushing the knob.

What the hell do you think you're doing?

Ariadne spun, finding herself face-to-face with her alter ego: the nude, disheveled slut she had seen in the glass.

"I'm getting rid of you once and for all," she told her. "You've caused me nothing but trouble!"

Have I? the slut said with a smirk. You've seemed quite happy every time you've let me have control. I gave you everything you wanted . . . everything you needed. Your darling son's cock felt so good when he pounded your pussy, didn't it? And without me, you never would have gotten to taste it.

Ariadne swallowed, knowing the harlot told the truth. But, she remained focused. She kept her willpower. "You might have cost me my only son! You made me hurt poor Emily!"

Please. You did that on your own. If you really wanted Barry to know everything was alright between you, you should have fucked him one more time the day after . . . or sucked him off in the airport parking lot, just for good measure. And Emily only got mad when you chose to stop nibbling her sweet little pussy. She certainly had no quarrel sharing your bed before that.

"I'm not listening to anything you have to say," Ariadne said defiantly. "You just want to take away everything I love!"

Wake up, you imbecilic bitch, the slut said, attempting to tug Ariadne away from the door. Don't you get it? I don't want to hurt you. I AM you. I love Barry the same as you. I care for Emily same as you. Why would I want to hurt them?! You're the one doing that with this ridiculous, prudish façade! I know what they want . . . what we ALL want. This body is a wealthy resource. You have a natural treasure between your legs, and the way you want to hog it all to yourself should be considered a crime! I gave Barry something most mothers could only DREAM of giving their sons. I gave Emily something she never even knew she wanted . . . something she THANKED you for. I know what this body . . . OUR body is worth, and I share it like any responsible woman should. Don't DARE get high-and-mighty with me. I've PROVEN my affection time and again. And if you really loved them, you'd understand that. But you don't, do you? And that's why I'm a better mother than you'll EVER be.

At those words, Ariadne's brow furrowed, and her hand gripped on the knob of the door. She yanked her grip away from her doppelganger. She knew that it had no real power over her—only the power she let it have. "I told you, I don't have anything more to say to you. My son hates me now, and I WILL NOT lose him because of YOU!"

With every ounce of passion she could muster, Ariadne slammed the door, causing the entire empty dreamspace to quake violently. She fell onto her back, unharmed, but panting excitedly. Her doppelganger stared daggers into her, incensed, her body slowly beginning to fade into the aether.

So that's how you want it, then? A wicked grin formed on her lips. But you still don't get it: you can't keep me out. Not now. Now that I've been freed, I'll NEVER truly go away. You'll see. Before you know it, I'll be back even stronger. And this time, it'll be for keeps.

As the last of her faded, the slut's voice rang inside Ariadne's ears. You need me, Aria, dear. And you don't even KNOW it yet. Sweet dreams, honey.

******

Five more months passed. Barry missed coming home for Spring Break as well, but that was halfway expected—what boy wanted to spend Spring Break with his mother? Hell, with her birthday a week or so back, she'd officially hit four-zero. Why would he hang with an old woman, when he was probably cozying up with that 'Suzanna' or whoever she was. At least, she hoped he could be—she hoped she hadn't ruined that relationship, too. Ironically, she had told him to forget about partying in college and focus on his studies, but since when did he listen to her? Heck, as a teenager, he would surely elect to do the opposite merely out of obligation. For the first time in her life, she found herself hoping that her son had disobeyed her.

It wasn't like she had proven herself as the best mother in the past year.

The five-minute phone calls they shared three times a week gradually dwindled to about once a month, with one or two minutes to talk, if she was lucky. He claimed that he was busy with his internship, but still wouldn't tell her what it was about. She still doubted that it even existed. She had never known Barry to lie to her before, but who knew how else things had changed after . . . after she had ruined him?

But then, she finally returned from the store one day in May and found that Barry had left her a message. It was brief, but her heart lit up when Barry explained that both the spring semester and his internship had ended, and he was sure to be coming home for the summer. He'd be leaving for the airport at 6:00 tomorrow, and his flight would arrive in Chicago at around noon. Ariadne bounced on her heels at the news and yelped with joy.

Finally, her baby was coming home, and she could work on mending this unbearable rift between them.

The next day, Ariadne tried to think of what to say to Barry. She had screwed up horribly with Emily, and she was not willing to let her ineptitude make things worse for her and her son. She would apologize to him . . . beg his forgiveness, and promise to get help and counseling if he thought she needed it. She would tell him everything . . . about the daydreams she had after he left, the toys, Emily, and of course . . . "the slut" inside of her. Even if he thought she was absolutely crazy, she would do anything to win him back. He was still all she had left, and she wasn't going to let him escape from her life.

After spending all morning preparing the house for his return, she left for the airport at 10:00. She arrived well before his flight, and eagerly waited at the arrival lobby. The hour and thirty minutes she waited for his plane to arrive was the most uncomfortable wait she'd had since her trip to the drug store and . . .

. . . No, she didn't even want to think about that. Not now.

Finally, the speakers announced the arrival of Flight 43 out of Fresno, and Ariadne eagerly marched to the gate to await the passengers. Her palms sweaty, her heart pounding, she rapidly went over everything that she had practiced—how she would greet him, what she would say, how she would say it, and what posture to hold while she said it.




Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 04



In a way, it was rather funny—only months ago, she was standing nervously as her son departed, but her apprehension at that time was about the fear of flying itself. Now, she really didn't feel anything about air travel anymore . . . she had far more pressing worries on her mind. Worries that only became compounded when she finally spotted her tall, handsome boy emerging from the gate and walking in her direction.

She waved to get his attention, but since he never looked up, she didn't know whether or not he had seen her. She kept it up, but he never looked up at her once. Already, she felt her heart leap into her throat. Once again, she went over just what she wanted to say. She was ready to beg him, to plead with him to forgive her and to help her put it all in the past. What they did was a mistake, and she would do anything to erase it and bring things back to the way they were.

At last, when he stepped within a few feet of her, his eyes finally rose to meet hers. She greeted him with a soft smile, holding her hands outward in apology.

"Barry, darling . . . I'm so sorry for everything. Could you ever for—"

All of a sudden, her voice was muffled, gagged by the force of her own son's mouth being pressed fiercely against her own. Ariadne froze, her eyes widened in panic—this outcome was the absolute last she had ever expected. Before she could form a single coherent thought, she felt her son's tongue moving through her mouth, seeking any moistness that it could find.

She enjoyed being in his clutches, being pulled so close by his strong, forceful hands. With her open eyes, she watched as others turned and glanced in their direction, noting the unusual sight of such a young man kissing such an older woman so passionately in the middle of an airport terminal. She was hardly the only woman even being kissed, but the stark contrast was worth at least a passing look.

It unbearably naughty . . . and none of these people could know who the two of them really were. Or, even if they did, what proof did they have? Who would dare to speak out what appeared to be a perfectly consensual May-December romance, without knowing that they were in fact, mother and son?

It would be so easy to lose herself now. To let herself disappear into that dark place.

But no, she had locked that side away . . . and Barry . . . well, he was just confused. So she pulled away from his kiss and then delivered a firm slap to the face.

"Stop that, Barry. It isn't right, and you know it!"

The look Barry shot at her almost broke her heart. Confusion, frustration, sadness . . . the poor boy was messed up worse than she thought.

And suddenly, she had forgotten everything she had practiced for up to that moment. All of the apologies, all of the begging and the explanation. It had all been right at the tip of her tongue . . . right up until the point when he sucked that tongue into his own mouth.

And now, she had nothing.

"Um . . . If you don't have any luggage, let's head to the car, okay?" she told him, turning on her heels and walking toward the exit.

His confused expression unerring, Barry slowly followed behind.

It was another awkward car ride at first, with Barry barely speaking—just staring at her with the same semi-confused, semi-frustrated glare. Ariadne's eyes darted from the road to her right once or twice, becoming more and more uncomfortable as the drive continued. Soon, it became utterly impossible for her to concentrate solely on driving.

"Do you hate me, Barry?"

"Right now, I'm just trying to understand you," he said with a sigh. "We never got to talk about it last time, but now I really need to know . . . what the hell was that? What we did?"

Ariadne bit her lip. "It was a mistake, Barry. That's all."

His eyes narrowed for a moment. "A mistake." He leaned his head back. "Well. That's good to know."

"I'm sorry," she told him remorsefully, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Hurt me!?" He exclaimed with a snort. "You made me feel better than I ever had in my life!"

Ariadne gasped—and not just from disbelief. Hearing those words coming from her son, after what they did together, instantly triggered a flood inside her womanhood.

Barry continued. "I come back home after a miserable three months in college, worried that with my luck, was on the fast track to ending freshman year as a total virgin . . . and then, BAM! My mom comes along and rescues me from that little dilemma."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. That one simple statement had dropped so many bombs on her that it was hard to even know where to begin. First, Barry was a virgin? She had never known. He always talked about the girls he dated and he was always staying late at "parties", so she thought he'd lost his cherry a long time ago. And second, his time at school was miserable?

Just what the heck was going on?!

"H-How come you never told me you were miserable at school?" she asked, ignoring the more poignant question.

He rubbed his fingers through his thick, sandy brown hair. "Because . . . you were expecting such big things from me. I don't have any grants or scholarships, so there you were paying this huge tuition for me, expecting me to make something of myself. But when I got to Fresno, I was derping hard. I didn't even know what major I wanted, so I just took random classes, and they absolutely sucked. I was getting below-average test scores, I tried out for football but only made the damn practice squad, I had a bunch of asshole roommates who liked to pull pranks all night and cover my mattress in dog urine, and I couldn't even meet a girl without her getting gang-banged by said asshole roommates."

He looked over at her again. "Yeah, mom. I'd say those first few months sucked."

Ariadne looked back at her son, her face etched with sympathy. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. But don't worry, you can leave if you want—"

Barry shook his head. "Didn't you hear the past tense, Ma? Those problems are done with now. I had a blast when I came back from Thanksgiving, and it's all thanks to you."

Again, she was flabbergasted. "M-Me?!"

"After we—made love—I was stunned, ya know? I couldn't believe that I did that . . . and with my own mom. I went back in my room and I sat thinking. And thinking. And thinking. I did a whoooole lot of thinking.

"Eventually, I came to one conclusion: that what we did had been incredible. I loved seeing you that way. And touching every inch of your gorgeous body, and . . . my orgasm was just unbelievable. But, I didn't know how you felt about it. I hadn't even stopped to see if you were drunk or high or delirious when it happened. I was worried that I'd taken advantage of you or something. And then, when you didn't want to talk about it, I felt even worse. So, I sat and thought about how I could make it up to you.

"I thought about it all the way back to Fresno, and by the time my plane landed, I had a plan. For the first time, I knew what I wanted to do. So, I went to the Student Employment office and asked if they had any internships for psychology."

"Psychology?" she repeated, surprised.

"Yes, I had decided that I wanted to go into a certain field of psychology—specifically, sexology."

Her mouth fell open.

"But, they didn't really have any internships open at the school. Psychology is actually a pretty popular field of study at Fresno, and all of the early birds had snatched up the relevant internships. I was completely screwed."

Now, Ariadne was growing only more confused. "So how did you—?"

"Luckily, I spoke to the work study working at the desk and told her what I was looking for and what I wanted to study. She was intrigued that I was so forthcoming about it, and after a little digging, she told me something shocking. It turned out, her name was Suzanna, and she was an up-and-coming porn star. There was a studio in Los Angeles where she did all her shooting and they were looking to hire some extra help. You know, fetching coffee for the actors, cleaning laundry, stuff like that."

"You cleaned porn stars' laundry?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but it wasn't as bad as you think. I wore gloves, and we always handled it with plastic bags. But anyway, the reason why I couldn't tell you what we were doing was because the studio wanted to avoid leaks. The porn industry is as competitive as any other media, and studios like to protect their bread and butter. On top of that, I didn't want any of my nosy roommates knowing. They were already giving me dirty looks when Suzanna came by to pick me up for our triweeklies to L.A., so I sure as hell didn't want them to know that I was involved in the porn industry."

She glanced at him nervously. "Did you ever . . . ah . . . act?"

"No. Although, Suzanna tried to, um, 'coax' me into it every now and again."

"'Coax' you?"

"Yeah. Suzanna and me . . . we . . . uh . . . we fucked quite a bit. Just not on camera."

Ariadne's brow clenched and her hand tightened around the steering wheel. Suzanna wasn't his girlfriend. She was just some porn harlot that had seduced her son. Ariadne seethed inside; the mental image fueling her rage. Some bitch had stuffed his dick in the same dirty spot where who-knew-how-many other unworthy cocks had been? Ariadne would've bet the farm that her pussy was looser than the ball pit at Fun Land.

Barry glanced at her and a smirk appeared. "Are you jealous, Mom?"

"No. So. Tell me how this 'internship' of yours helped you in school." In truth, she was burning inside, but he couldn't know that.

"Well, most of the people there were real helpful, believe it or not. I think I actually learned more from them than I would have from a psychology or sexology class. They didn't just tell me stuff—they showed me firsthand how it worked. They explained why the set up certain angles, why they chose certain guys for certain roles, and how costuming was important. They explained to me about certain fetishes, and how people got turned on from lots of different things. And I got to see it all in action, firsthand, rather than just learning about it in a class.

"Overall, I felt more excited about being there. My classes seemed less boring, my test scores improved, and my roommates didn't get to me as much as before. I think my relationship with Suzanna did the trick—it earned their respect. Working with porn improved my dorm life in every possible way, really. Who'da thought?

"And the actresses were nice, too—No, don't worry, Mom . . . I didn't sleep with anyone other than Suzanna . . . you can turn the glare off now—and they told me how to dress and how to act around women to turn them on. They taught me how to please a woman . . . and that's what ultimately led me to sex with Suzanna. But, there wasn't anything deep between us. To her, I was a convenient cock. For me, she was practice."

"Practice?" Ariadne inquired. "Practice for what?"

Barry paused, licking his teeth nervously. A nervous hand inched closer and touched his mother's thigh.

"Mom, what we did . . . I never forgot it. And . . . I want to do it again."

Her entire body shook. The combination of his words and his touch caused her to nearly swerve off-road. She could feel her heart beating faster in her chest, her mouth salivating, and wetness forming between her legs.

She could feel the door opening.

"Barry, sweetheart, like I said . . . what we did was a mistake . . ."

"Maybe, but mistakes don't have to be bad," he said, rubbing her thigh gently.

She almost moaned right then, but collected herself. "Not this time, honey. Do you know how nervous I've been since you left? How worried I was that I'd ruined your life? I don't think I could go through that again . . ."

"But now you know that you didn't, Mom. If anything, you made my life better than I'd ever hoped."

"I turned you into a . . . a porn errand boy!"

"So? The porn industry is just a healthy business, like any other. Sure, it's smut, but it's more honest smut than what they make in Hollywood." His hand moved from her thigh and gripped her hand. "Can't you see that this is what I want? I love you, Mom. And I know you've been lonely ever since Dad died. So, let me do this. Let me make up for the twelve years I've been a pain your ass. I loved our first time, and I know you enjoyed it, too, Mom. I can see the excitement in your eyes from just talking about it."

She swallowed agitatedly. It was happening again . . . she could feel the "slut" peeking through, struggling to get a foothold. She couldn't let it happen. Barry was just a boy. He didn't know what he really wanted. He was just thinking with his hormones.

"Barry, what we did that night . . . that wasn't me, honey."

"Huh? Were you drunk or something, Ma?"

"No, baby . . . but, I wasn't in my right mind nonetheless. What you should understand is that, sometimes, this other side of me comes out. This 'other woman'. She's me, but she's not. She's—"

"Your 'slut side'?"

Yet again, her son dropped another bomb. "How . . . how did you . . .!?"

Barry chuckled. "Oh please, Mom. I've worked in porn for the past half-year. Did you really think that I hadn't heard about a woman's 'slut' side? Or, did you just think you were the only one? I met all kinds of women on the set at that studio—mothers, teachers, nurses, lawyers—both in front of and behind the camera. Plenty of them told me about how there was this other side of themselves they just 'let loose' every now and again. When they were on camera, sucking a dick or getting double-fucked, they let the slut take control so they could just sit back and enjoy the ride. And when it was over, they went back home to their boyfriends, their husbands, their kids, and they lived normal lives."

He squeezed her thigh. "But you need to understand that that slut is still you. It's unhealthy to try and keep it caged, because it only comes out stronger later. If I was the first guy who got to see yours in action, then I feel very lucky. I saw a side to my mother that no one had ever seen before. And . . . I want to see it again."

She couldn't believe it. She was losing this argument. After she'd worked so hard for the past five months to keep that side of herself excised and hidden away, her son was able to undo it all in just a few minutes. As she pulled into their driveway, Ariadne leapt out of the car as quickly as she could, rushing toward the front door.

"Barry . . .stay away from me. I . . . I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this praise from you. Don't try to treat me like I - I'm normal."

He got out of the car and chased her. "But you are, Mom. You're a completely normal, healthy woman, and I love you. Let me share this with you. Please."

She fumbled with the key in the lock and he walked behind her, pressing his body against her back.

Memories of Stewie, and the night they conceived their son, flashed into her mind. He had been close just like this . . .

"No, Barry," she said, struggling with the key again. "What would your father say? How would he feel knowing that the two of us—?"

"I think Dad would have wanted you to move on," Barry told her, "and I'm almost certain that he would want me to get laid. This way, we can do both."

"That's . . . that's just wrong," she protested.

He leaned closer and kissed the back of her neck, sliding his hands onto her hips. It was just like Stewie had done, 18 years earlier. "But you love it. You pretend to hate the slut in you, but deep down, you want her to win, don't you?"

Her legs were quivering. She had long since stopped working on the key, and now, her front was mashed against the door as her son gently nibbled her ear. She could feel her willpower crumbling, the forbidden door opening wider.

Breathless, she turned to face him, staring into his eyes with an aura of love, of need, and of defeat. "Barry, honey . . . if I do this . . . if I let her out again, I'll never be able to put her back in. I can feel her. She's too strong. I'll be a complete and total slut, unable to know right from wrong." Her tears began flowing. "How would I be able to control myself again?"

He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, gently, lovingly. He held her in his arms—not just as a man holding a conquest . . . but as a lover holding a woman he deeply cared for.

"Oh, I think I can handle her," he assured her. "I told you, Ma. Your boy has learned some new tricks."

He turned the key and hammered the door open with the flat of his fist. Reaching down, he scooped his mothers legs and held her entire body in his arms, carrying her across the threshold like a bride. After kicking the door closed with his foot, he kissed her again. She didn't fight anymore; she merely held onto his neck, surrendering as their lips locked and tongues wrestled.

Barry took her to the bedroom, where upon he tossed her face-first onto the edge of her bed. He reached under her skirt and found her fragile pair of panties, gripping them with both hands and literary ripping them from her pelvis.

"I'll show you," he said, undoing his buckle. "The way I tame a slut."

She gaped over her shoulder, breathlessly, watching him pull his pants to the floor. She kept her hands flat on the mattress, her ass risen in anxious anticipation. She licked her lips as he stepped toward her, and yelped excitedly when his hands grasped her hips.

She felt 'the slut' bursting free, kicking the door clear off its hinges.

"Yes! Fuck me! Hurry!!" she exclaimed lustfully.

Barry hardly needed any instruction. He placed his cock swiftly at her entrance and took one more step until it sank in deep. He didn't go slow, and he wasn't shy. He just thrust his cock all the way into his mother's pussy and began to pound away mercilessly.

"God yes, Barry," Ariadne gasped as he felt his hips slam against her ass with every thrust. "Jesus, what was I thinking?! Why did I want to fight this!?"

Barry's hands gripped the meat of her ass tightly, pinching her flesh. "Don't turn around. Just face forward and enjoy it. And keep your hands gripped on those sheets. You aren't really my Mom right now. You're just a slut inside her body."

A shiver went through as he called her that. Never before had that word sounded so good. "Yes, I'm a slut. I'm your slut, honey. Treat me like one!"

"I don't need to be told that . . . slut," he said, striking her left cheek with a mighty smack. She yelled in both pain and pleasure, overjoyed to be treated so forcefully by her own son.

Already, she could tell that something was different. The slut inside of her was free, but she couldn't take control. Ariadne felt no inhibitions, no reservations about being fucked, but her lust was still being held in check. Controlled, somehow.

"Oh, Barry," she gasped, rubbing her foot gingerly against his naked leg. "What are you doing to me, baby?"

"I'm turning you into a slut, Mom," he told her, thrusting deep at that last word. "But, I'm turning you into my slut."

"Oh, yeeeesssss," she moaned, daring to glance over her shoulder. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it, it's yours. Do to me whatever you want."

"I told you to look straight and keep your hands on the sheets, slut," Barry demanded, slipping his arms under her pits and reaching around to squeeze her breasts through her blouse. He then tore it open from the front, just like the way he ripped her panties off, shredding a huge hole that enabled her huge breasts to burst free. He gripped her tits hard, mauled them, before placing his hand her back and spiking her head face-first into the mattress again.

The unexpected jolt of being controlled—of being outright conquered—sparked an orgasm which brought tears to Ariadne's eyes. It was the single most intense climax she'd had in her life. And when she looked forward and saw the image of her son thrusting his cock into his mother's pussy from behind, rocking her entire body forward and back again, the excitement was only prolonged.




Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 04



"So how does it feel, Mom? How does it feel to be you own son's slut?"

"Wonderful, baby. Like I'm free!"

"How does my cock feel inside you?"

"G-Good, honey," she stammered. "Really good."

"Whose slut are you? Who is this body for?"

"Yours, my darling. Only for you. Please, FUCK me."

Barry gripped her hips tightly and picked up his pace. He growled, and she could feel his entire body tense.

"I'm about to cum, slut," he told her. "And I'm going to do it inside your pussy."

"Oh yes, Barry," she moaned. "Please, fill me up! Pour all of your cum inside me!"

Again, he didn't need instruction. Only a moment after she begged, Barry exploded inside of her pussy, drenching the walls of her cunt with his sticky juices. The streams bursting inside her caused Ariadne herself to go over the top, and she came with her son, mixing their juices together inside her belly.

She collapsed on the bed, happier than she'd been in years. She couldn't believe what she had been missing all this time, and it was pure heaven to know that this was what Barry wanted as well. How had heaven smiled on her, blessed her, for it turned out this way?

Her son was tall, confident, muscular, and handsome. She couldn't understand what he loved so much about her soft, middle-aged body—what it was about her nakedness that made his monster grow so long and hard was unknown to her, nor did she care anymore. Nothing mattered as long as he desired her and kept fucking her—as long as he craved his dick inside her. From here on, she knew she'd die without it. Her son's amazing cock.

The slut she'd tried so hard to lock away had been right all along.

Barry's manhood stayed inside her, plugging her hole with his spunk inside. After a few minutes, she could feel him grow hard inside her again. To her utter astonishment, he didn't waste a second of it, and began to fuck her again immediately.

Her strong, healthy boy. She had made this body . . . this physique with so much stamina, so much power.

And now she'd enjoy the fruits of it.

******Epilogue 1******

Three weeks passed. Ariadne and her son never went a day without fucking, and usually, they squeezed in at least three to four sessions within 24 hours. Barry was insatiable for his mother's pussy, and she was more than eager to spread her legs whenever her boy wanted it. For the second time in her life, she stopped bothering with clothing. In fact, one of the hottest experiences she shared with her son was the occasion they fed all of her bras, panties, skirts and blouses into the garbage disposal, one at a time, while he slowly ground her pussy from behind. When the last shred went inside, and they watched the pieces spray like confetti, he rewarded her by emptying every ounce of his spunk into her.

From then on, she couldn't have worn clothes, even if she had wanted to—and she did not. When the mailman arrived, when city workers came to do roadwork, she'd walk around her property with everything on display and never think twice about it. She received a few letters of complaint, so she and Barry had some signs put up, warning visitors that their property was 'clothes free'.

They say that the difference between a nudist and an exhibitionist is that a nudist sees nothing special about their nakedness, while the exhibitionist gets a thrill out of it. If that is true, then she was an exhibitionist for her son, and a nudist for the rest of the world. She didn't give a damn what strangers thought—as long as her naked body kept bringing her son's cock to rock-hardness, that was good enough for her.

One day, Barry was making tender love to his mother, gently screwing her missionary . . . each long and deep thrust pushing her head against back of the sofa.

Suddenly, he said: "Ma, does it bother you when I come inside you?"

"No honey," she answered breathlessly. "Why do you ask?"

He completed a few more slow thrusts before adding, "So then, you're not worried about getting pregnant?"

"No, baby. I'm not."

"Why?" he asked. "Are you on the pill?"

"No, sweetie," she told him. "Sometimes, that messes with a woman's hormones. Makes her less interested in sex. I don't want that for you, darling. I want to always want you. All day, every day."

That earned her a few harder strokes. Her body shivered, and she came immediately.

"I might get you pregnant, Ma," he told her, fondling her healthy tits and staring lustfully into her eyes. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, sweetheart. You know that this pussy belongs to you, now. You can do what you want with it, and the rest of this slut body. Use me as you see fit. Pour your babies into me. I'll make them as long as you want them."

He leaned closer and gripped the back of the couch for support. "Oh Ma, I want that. But I want you to know . . . I want you to be more than my baby factory. I want to love you and keep making love to you. I want to watch my love grow inside you. But more than that, I want whatever we do to make you happy."

"You make me happy, my love," she said as she clenched the back of his head, drawing his lips nearer. "Being your slut makes me happy. I would be your slave if you asked me to."

Suddenly, Barry's mouth clasped to hers and he screamed inside, filling her lungs with his sweet breath. Their mouths consumed each other, tongues swimming together as Barry cried in ecstasy. She had spoken the magic words, the words which flooded her pussy with his potent, baby-making fluid, splashing her insides in search of her delicate eggs.

******Epilogue 2******



FIVE MONTHS LATER

A fur-clad Ariadne smiled when she saw him appear through the crowd ahead. He saw her and smiled back, that warm twinkle in his eye that got her wet every time she noticed it. He pushed hurriedly through the crowd of people and made a beeline for her. The two lovers quickened their pace, closing the gap until she threw herself into his arms and he lifted her up, kissing her face all over as her long heels kicked a few inches from the ground.

It was déjà vu: an ironic echo of both the first and second times she had welcomed him back at this airport, with each version combined in one, more perfect moment.

Then, he gently set her down and gazed into her loving eyes.

"Are you wearing it?" he asked.

"Of course, Master," she told him, slightly unbuttoning the fur coat and giving him a peek inside. Inside, he only thing covering her skin were latex straps, sparsely positioned over her body, only leaving exposed her bulbous breasts and the teardrop belly she displayed so proudly.

"Good girl," he said, placing a delicate hand on her swollen stomach. "You're growing even bigger than I hoped."

"Naturally, Master," she beamed, her face shading beet red. "I'm taking excellent care of her. She is the Master's, after all."

She never, ever called him 'Barry' anymore, except around people who were aware their old relationship. The rest of the time, he was "Master", "Lover", or "Husband". As they both wanted; as the contract decreed.

But, she had made one stipulation of her own: there was one occasion where she could still call him 'Son', and he could call her 'Mom' . . .

But that occasion was only when his cock was buried in her pussy.

Smiling, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a fiber tether, hooking one end of it to the ring on her collar. "Let's go then, Slut," he said, calling the only name she enjoyed answering to.

He led her by leash out of the airport. "Let's hurry home . . . so we can be mother and son."

=====*=====

Thank you for reading. For those of you who want more of Barry & Ariadne's adventures, their tale will be continued in the next volume: "Barry's Sluts, Ch. 01".

Be sure to comment with your thought