2 comments/ 134688 views/ 17 favorites Photographs Ch. 01 By: techsan Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story. She had been sent to me by a magazine to do a photo shoot. It was to be a solo shoot, just me and the girl. "Hi," she said when I opened the door. "I'm Kaiya. I'm here to do the pictures?" Her voice took a musical upturn at the end, as if she were asking a question. She was a cute girl, rather petite and if I hadn't known that she was 19, I might have thought she was underage. Her blonde hair hung straight down her back almost to her waist. A quick glance showed me that she had a nice figure though, the kind that sold magazines. "Sure, come on up," I said, standing back so she could step onto the bottom landing. After I closed the door, I led her upstairs to my loft studio. "My name's Gene Orville. We'll do everything in the studio here." The entire upper floor was occupied by my equipment, props and living area, which was partitioned off from the studio itself only by the arrangement of the furniture. Even the kitchen counter was along the end of the back wall and the bathroom fixtures were a little less private than that, with my dresser and chest of drawers forming one side wall and the shower curtain around my big bathtub forming another side view block. The front was covered by a set of four five-drawer file cabinets, which really didn't provide much protection. However when it was just me, I didn't care and when my guests wanted to use the facilities, I liked the open atmosphere. After all most of my guests were female, based on my profession. This morning, though, we were going to be working in the far end of the loft, in the area I had set up as a miniature playground. We stopped at a bench and I plopped down, indicating she should do the same. "Have you done a shoot before?" I asked. "No," she responded, a little timidly. I said, "Well, the key is for you to just relax. We'll take our time and I want you to feel comfortable but we do need to keep it moving. If you need a break, just let me know, okay? The suggestion was that we do a playground pervert piece where you get turned on by the equipment. We'll start out with you in something that might be a school uniform, maybe a short pleated skirt and a little T-shirt, and gradually they'll come off. We'll get some shots with you on the swing to start, move to the merry-go-round, monkey bars and the slide and probably finish up on the see-saw. Oh, and we'll want some with you playing in the sand box. Are you okay with that?" "Sure, I suppose. What do you want me to do?" "Well, first, let's see what clothes you brought." She opened the shopping bag she had brought with her and pulled out several outfits. I looked through them and decided on a short blue skirt with printed snowflakes and a light blue t-shirt, thinking that it seemed like a school girl look. She looked around and asked, "Where do I change?" "Look," I said. "I'm going to be seeing you all afternoon in nothing but your birthday suit. If we're going to do this, you have to relax. That means changing right here and not being embarrassed by having me see you naked. Can you do that?" "Uh ... sure. I hadn't thought of it like that." She quickly started to change into the new outfit. When she pulled off her jeans and shirt, I noticed she was wearing white cotton panties and a bra. "Lose the bra," I said. "We want our viewers to believe you don't wear much underwear." "Actually I usually don't," she replied, unfastening the bra and tossing it at the bag. "I didn't know what to expect and thought you might want me to wear one." "Good. That outfit looks great on you. Now I'm going to turn on a recorder and during the shoot, I'll ask you some questions and your answers will be published with the pictures. Okay?" She nodded as I waved her over to a jungle gym set. I pointed to the little fob on a chain at the end of my lens and said "Whenever I'm shooting, I want you to look right here so I can get the right angles." I set the fob to swinging and then I got a few set-up shots of her in full clothing and with different expressions. While I worked I asked, "How old are you?" "Nineteen," she replied. "Did you graduate from high school?" "Yes." "Attend college?" "Yes, one year so far." "Good. Now we'll move into a series of shots where you put one foot on the slide ladder and flip your skirt up so we can see your panties, then start pulling your shirt up until we can see your titties. Just go slow so we get several shots along the way. Okay?" She nodded and began to pose. Perfectly, she displayed the stark white of her panties against the tanned skin of her legs and buttocks. "Do you consider yourself sexually active?" "Yes, I guess so." She pulled her T-shirt up and exposed her breasts, small at 34B but well defined. She had great teeth and she kept her hair moving, creating some very nice shots. "Are you bisexual?" "I suppose. I don't really think about it." She settled into the swing with the plastic seat that curled around her butt. She spread her legs and pulled the crotch of her panties to one side, revealing a very puffy pussy with a thatch of light brown hair above the crease. I snapped several pictures as her expression changed into a big grin and she pulled her shirt up higher, pushing the swing this way and that to change her angle to me. Whether she knew it or not, she was a natural. "Have you made it with women?" I asked, as I moved my light reflectors to eliminate shadows. "Sure. A couple. Not many." She was bending over the short see-saw platform with her bottom toward me. As she tossed her skirt up and pulled her panties down to her knees, I asked her to put her hand between her legs. "Did you like it?" "Sure," she said, "but not as much as with men." As she skimmed out of her clothes and I started taking nude shots in various positions on the equipment, I asked, "How many men have there been?" "Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty." She was using a couple of fingers in her gash and they had begun to glisten with her juices. "What is your favorite position?" "Wow! I really don't know. There are so many good ones. I love doggy but I also love missionary and I really like to ride. You know ... cowgirl." The expression on her face said that she was starting to feel good. "Would you mind if I took off my shorts?" I asked. She didn't even open her eyes when she said, "I wouldn't mind if you joined me." I took off my shorts and shirt and stepped up behind her and wiggled my cock between her buttocks. She was already soaking wet and my sword slipped into her sheath in one thrust. She was watching over her shoulder, a huge smile on her face. I used my left hand on the little remote control to continue operating the camera that I had set up on a tripod and pre-focused, hoping that we were not getting too far away from the frame's center. As I pumped her pussy, the fingers of my right hand found her clit and teased her to three climaxes before my balls shot their hot load into her twat. I wouldn't tell her until later that I had half a dozen video cameras recording all the activity in case we might want to sell some action to a studio. While we were resting, I asked, "Would you like a drink or something to eat?" She responded, "I'd love to have a sandwich." We picked up our clothes and headed to my living area. Since I didn't put my clothes on, she didn't either. We made sandwiches and drank soda pops while we talked. When we had both finished, she sighed and asked, "Are you interested in screwing some more? I'm still kind of horny." I didn't need a second invitation but led her to my big bed, surreptitiously pushing the button that started the six video cameras that covered the area. She sucked my cock while I fingered her cunt and rubbed her ass before I buried my face between her legs and began to eat her pussy. I knew she dabbed her perfume between her legs; she smelled of a mixture of hot sex and faint gardenia – sweet and succulent. After she had cum, she pushed me back and climbed on top of my throbbing erection. Her pussy was tight so that she had to work up and down for several moments before she could take my entire shaft inside her. I knew I'd have some great shots of her cunt swallowing my whole staff. She spent thirty-five minutes banging me while getting off twice, then I rolled her over and in the next twenty minutes, made her cum three more times before I emptied my balls in her love shack. I loved watching her biting her lower lip to keep from screaming out her pleasure as she came. While recovering, I asked if she would be interested in making some money doing action shots like we had just done. She was rather reluctant until I told her the kind of money she could make and suddenly she became very enthusiastic. I told her about the cameras and that I had captured some good footage that I could use. She was surprised about the cameras but when I showed her some of the footage, she got horny again and wanted to fuck some more. We spent the next forty minutes with my cock up her hot pussy and had a great time. As we lay together resting, I promised, "I will develop your still photos within a couple of days and get them sent off to Swanky. We should be getting payment back in three to six weeks. I will have to work on the videos, editing and putting them together, over the next few days as I get time to work on them. We also probably have enough other stills to send layouts to two or three other magazines." "That's great, honey. Will you call me when you get the money?" "Yes, and you can meet me back here for the payment, okay? If things work out well, maybe you'd like to pose for me in some other outfits and using other sets to change the background." I was sorry to see Kaiya go but thought I just might have a way to get her back into my place with some regularity. I did free-lance work for a lot of the porno rags and thought I could sell several of them a package from the things I had shot without duplicating what was going to Swank or by using some different background sets. End of Ch 01 Photographs Ch. 01 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. My editor is Mike2230. ***** Christie MacAwley Tyler stood naked in her husband's photography studio in the basement of their home. Goose bumps prickled her arms. Winter in Los Angeles, and the heat not on, but watching him set up a tripod at the edge of the open space in the room made her shiver. He had not taken photographs for a long time, having taken so many in the early years of their marriage that he had plenty to ogle or jerk off to, or whatever he did with them. Christie never knew; the photographs never appeared in the house. She wondered for the thousandth time where he was hiding them and how she might coerce or trick him into telling her where they were. If I take a lover, would Steve kill me? she asked herself. The camera only came out now when he had something special planned, some new act of humiliation or depravity that she had never before endured. With her eighteen-year-old son Danny away for winter break, Steve had days to abuse her with plenty of time for the worst of it to fade before his return. She rolled her shoulder and resisted the urge to touch the welt on the back of her upper arm. It lay over the top of another bruise from the night before. She wondered if the placement had been deliberate. Probably. Steve was an expert with the strap, his favorite. Never over the kidneys, never any place that would show, always a fixed number of blows, and usually repeated in the same spot enough times to cause a bruise if the first blow wasn't hard enough already. He was careful, too, about always allowing a few weeks' time for her body to heal entirely before starting the show all over. Having secured the camera in its mount, Steve shifted the tripod around, peering at the viewer until he had the exact frame he wanted. A moment and a push of a few buttons, and the camera began taking shots automatically, every fifteen seconds. Sending directly to his laptop through a cable, the camera had almost limitless memory. Hours and hours of entertainment for her sociopath husband. She sometimes wondered why he never converted to video, but photographs seemed to be his fetish. Steve moved to a secured cabinet and removed handcuffs. Christie tried to breath calmly, the acrid scent of developing chemicals in her nose. She associated the smell with pain. "What are we doing next?" she asked warily, rather than thrust out her wrists in the way he liked her to do. He used the cuffs when he was doing something to the front of her body, where she had never managed to learn not to defend herself, or something particularly painful. "New toy," he said, his usual mild expression twisted into a little smirk. Steve was nothing if not bland. Average height, sandy blond hair, hazel eyes. He could be very charming if he put his mind to it, or equally forgettable when he wanted to fade. He was easy to overlook, which made him doubly dangerous. "What toy?" "Never mind that." He waved his hand toward her. "Come here. Now." "Steve," she said, stalling, "why don't you find someone who does this for a living? Wouldn't it be more satisfying to you if you found someone who enjoyed this sort of thing?" He paused his advance toward her. "That's exactly the reason," he said. "They want it." Her stomach turned, and she started to back away. She had been naive and weak when she married Steve, and so very young, but through their sixteen years of marriage, Christie had learned to be strong. To others, her submission might seem a failing, but this was one of her many subtle ways of fighting back. He wanted her to scream and fight. Steve wanted to break her, so she denied him the opportunity. But sometimes, sometimes, the compulsion to protect herself, the drive for revenge, burst out of the tiny pocket where she held it for safekeeping. If she didn't let it out now and then, she thought a piece of her might die and with it the hope of ever getting out of this devil's bargain she'd made. If I take a lover, would Steve kill me? The question was becoming an obsession. It was more than wanting the sadistic sex to end; she wanted tenderness. Love. Things Steve had never given her, was incapable of giving her. "No," she said, backing away further. "Not tonight. You did enough last night." Steve's face lit up with a cunning, feral light. "You don't get to say no to me, Christie." The handcuffs jerked as he gripped them tighter in anticipation. His cock was already half hard. He sprang. Christie ducked low to her right, towards the door. Steve tackled her around the waist, bringing them both to the floor. That quickly he had a full erection. She could feel it through his silk boxers, pressing against her thigh. He reached up for one arm, dragging it down while at the same time she tried to twist to the side to get a knee into his groin. She thrust with everything she had but the angle was wrong, and she only managed to reach his inner thigh. She hoped it left a big bruise. Steve dragged her arm behind her back, fumbled with the cuffs for a moment, and then one bracelet circled her wrist. All the while bucking and struggling to get out from beneath him, Christie turned her head and bit down hard on the hand that was holding her other arm. In response he gave a vicious yank to the arm he had pinned behind her back. Tears spring to her eyes, but she cursed silently, never showing anything. Steve dragged her free arm inexorably downward. Christie was the same height as Steve, five-feet-ten, healthy and strong, but the sad truth is that an average man is still stronger than an average woman. Steve was no average man; he either lifted weights or ran every day of the week. Despite all her efforts, he soon had her dragged, the skin of her torso and thighs scraping across the rough carpet, to slip the cuffs through a large u-shaped bolt on the floor, trapping her there on her hands and knees. She stared down at her hands caught to either side of the bolt and then closed her eyes. "I hate you, Steve," she said. "It doesn't matter, does it?" "Some day I'll find a way out." He leaned down until she could feel his hot breath on her ear, smell the beer he had when he first came home. "Look at me." She turned her head away at first, but then opened her eyes to look at him. "You know what happens, Christie. You leave and I destroy your whole family. What will your precious Danny think when he finds out about Andy? Hmm?" He moved back toward the cabinet. She heard the whisper of silk on skin as he removed his boxers, then the soft rattle of an object being picked up. When he returned to her sight, he was carrying a long thin rod. "A cane?! You're going to cane me?" Steve merely slapped the cane lightly against his palm. His erection twitched, dark and veined, with pre-cum dripping onto the carpet, leaving a trail of damp spots. Even though he was highly aroused, he had monumental control, enough to draw this out for a long time before he gave in and fucked her. "Do you even know how to use that thing? It will break the skin, Steve." "I know what I'm doing. You know I would never harm my little pumpkin." He held the cane up. The tip twitched. He raised the cane and swung it at her buttocks. It was excruciating, like fire striking down to the bone. Christie couldn't avoid crying out. Clearly, he knew what he was doing. He had probably practiced somewhere. Bent over her to survey the results, he said, "You know the rules. Leave, speak out, and I'll destroy everyone you love, including your darling son. Agreement or no agreement." He waited, letting the pain subside. He liked to do that at first. Steve was no dom. There was no preparation or safe words. There would be no aftercare. Christie would be left lying on the studio's rough carpet, having to tend to her own wounds. He was simply a man who liked to hurt women. Steve swung the cane faster this time. Christie could hear it hiss as it came down. More fire. Gradually, the pauses became shorter, Steve saying with each stroke, "You're mine, Christie. Mine." After a while she could no longer hold back her screams. If I take a lover, Steve won't kill me. He'll kill him. ###### Kyle's father helped Danny lug his gear - skis, duffel, sports bag - up to the door, but he only said a hurried, "Sorry it turned out this way," before jogging back to where his car stood idling in the driveway. "Don't be," Danny called after him. "Wasn't your fault." He turned to unlock the door with his key and quietly let himself into the house. Feeling dejected, he moved around the darkened entry with hardly a sound, setting his bags gently on the tiled floor. It wasn't anyone's fault that Kyle's little sister broke her leg on the bunny slope in their first hour of skiing, but still he was disappointed. Leaving his bags in the entry, Danny went to the kitchen to stand silently in front of the open refrigerator, it's light flooding into the dark room. Six hours in the waiting room of the hospital in San Bernardino with little to eat but nasty cafeteria macaroni and cheese, and nacho chips from vending machines. At eighteen, and already 6'5", Danny needed solid food and lots of it. But first...cookie jar. He shut the fridge and turned to the ceramic pig on the counter, smiled a little as he peered inside to find his mom had kept it full even if he wouldn't be back for a week. He could almost hear her automatic "no cookies before dinner" and his reply "I'd like to see you try and stop me." When he was little, she would stop him, but as he grew her admonishment came more as a reflex, without heat, and his reply was delivered with a smug grin seconds before a cookie popped into his mouth. And she always kept the jar full of his favorites. One of many many reasons he loved his mom. He grew thoughtful as he withdrew the makings of a submarine sandwich from the fridge. Kyle's family had an openness and warmth that always made him feel both welcomed and uncomfortable at the same time. Watching them at the hospital that afternoon, he had finally figured out why. It was the parents. They relied on one another, leaned on each other for advice, comfort, and support. Small pats on the shoulder, a quick kiss on the cheek. Danny had that kind of warm relationship with his mother, but not with his father, and he had never seen his parents behave that way toward each other. Now, on the verge of adulthood, he was old enough to see that this was not normal, and to wonder what kind of effect it had on his mom to live this way. Never mind what effect it had on Danny to be raised by a man who had never accepted him as his son. The house remained dark as he sat on a stool at the counter, eating his sandwich and cookies. He thought he heard loud voices from the basement but decided he was mistaken. His parents must have gone to sleep early, he thought, so rather than announce himself he went quietly towards his room, grabbing his duffel but leaving his gear behind as he passed the entry. To his surprise, as he passed the basement stairs he found a rectangle of light streaming onto the carpet outside his dad's studio, with sounds issuing from within. Curious, he dropped his duffel and crept downstairs. "I hate you, Steve," his mother said. "It doesn't matter, does it?" his father replied. "Someday I will find a way out." Danny froze in the shadows outside the doorway, shamelessly listening to a conversation he knew they would never want him to hear. After a second he peeked around the doorway to see his mother kneeling naked on the floor, her hands cuffed to a bolt his father had told him was used to chain equipment down to keep it steady. Welts covered her back, upper arms, and thighs. "What will your precious Danny think when he finds out about Andy?" his father said, his erection peeking through the opening in his boxers as he leaned over his mother. Danny screwed up his face and tried to look away, but he couldn't. What he saw was too new, too startling. It was clear his parents had a history that he had never known or even guessed about. Danny knew he should leave, but he couldn't make himself. Until that moment he had never realized that he hated his father. Steve walked to a tall white cabinet against a far wall that had always remained locked before. It stood with the doors wide, revealing more cuffs and leather straps. Steve pulled down his boxers, leaving them on the floor, and now Danny really wanted to look away, but before he did his attention was caught by the object his father removed from the cabinet. A cane. If he had any doubts about his mother's willingness, they were dispelled when she shrieked. Danny moved forward a few inches, just to the edge of the shadow that hid him. Whatever was going on, he needed to stop it. He watched in horror as his father delivered the first blow, and Danny shifted to the doorway. If either parent turned their head a fraction, they would see him, but neither did. Instead, his father said something that gave Danny pause: "You know the rules. Leave, speak out, and I'll destroy everyone you love, including your darling son. Agreement or no agreement." His father caned his mother, paused to rub the livid red mark it left behind, and then raised his arm to hit her again. Torn, Danny stood frozen in the door frame. More was going on than he knew. He wanted to stop it, but suspected that involving himself in this would make things worse. When his mother screamed, he cursed himself for being a coward, but backed away from the door and went up the stairs. In the entry he paused to gather up his belongings and then silently left the house to sit on the front steps. He couldn't hear a sound from that spot, but he still could hear the screaming in his head. ##### After about two hours, Danny quietly ventured inside but found the basement stairs dark. Next door to the studio, his father's door was open, and he glimpsed his father passed out on his back, naked and snoring softly. Not something he cared to contemplate for long. His parents slept in separate rooms, something he never understood until today. Upstairs, his mother's door also stood open, the room empty. He quickly ducked into his room to drop his bags and went to the kitchen. After stopping at the refrigerator to get a soda, he searched for his mother. He found her in the ground floor den, lying on a sofa with a game controller and playing Mario Kart. She was raised up on her elbows, an awkward position to play video games, but he surmised that she probably couldn't sit down. A fist of anger curled in his gut at the thought, but that was overwhelmed by the sight of the sexy little satin robe she wore. It was short and white, with a deep v-neck, and there was obviously nothing underneath. A section of her right breast curved into the open neckline, and her long legs were thoroughly exposed. For a moment he stood in the doorway, staring openly. Ever since puberty, he had been hyper-aware of how very beautiful his mother was. She was what people used to call "Black Irish," with very fair skin that barely tanned, rosy cheeks, long curly black hair, and deep blue eyes. She was tall, and gorgeous, and sexy, and he doubted any girl he ever found would measure up to her. It was monstrously unfair. Added to that, she had been only sixteen when he was born, and was now just thirty-four. People stared, women and men. He swallowed. Mom never dressed like this when he was around. "Mom?" he said. "Danny!" She started to move, glanced down to where her breasts were escaping her robe, and grabbed an afghan from the back of the sofa, quickly covering herself with it. Not quickly enough for him to miss the welts on the back of her thighs. "What are you doing home?" Her eyes widened. "How long have you been here?" "Just got home," he said as he moved into the room. He set his soda on the coffee table and settled onto the floor by her side. "Sandy broke her leg this morning." He talked about his long day, the trip to the emergency room that lasted for hours, the drive home with Sandy in the back of the car, moaning the entire way. "I'm sorry, sweetie," his mom said at last. "We'll find other things to do to make it up to you. I don't have any court dates this week. I can take a few days off." "Want to watch me beat you at Mario Kart right now?" he asked, grinning with a humor he didn't actually feel. "Tonight's my night, kid. Do your worst." They played several games. Danny was so distracted that his mom did manage to beat him two out of three games. All the while, he grew more and more uneasy, until he barely saw the little karts winding around the track. "You've missed three bananas in a row," his mother said, still absorbed in the game. "Tired? Maybe you should crash for the night." Danny put down his controller, even though the game had not ended. "Mom, I lied." She looked over at him now, the controller stilled, and gave him a piercing look. "About what?" "I've been home for hours," he admitted. His mother's lips parted and her cheeks paled. "Oh," she said. She looked down at the controller in her hands as if seeing it for the first time, and then placed it with a shaking hand on the floor beside her. The game beeped the end of the round, followed by canned applause. "What did you see?" she asked when she looked up again. "More than I wanted to. I wanted to go in and stop it, but the things he said. The things he said he'd do..." His voice started to break, and he stopped to take a deep breath. He would not cry. "He was hurting you so much and I couldn't do anything and-" And then she stretched forward to wrap her arms around his torso, her soft hair falling in his face. She told him it was all right, and though he knew it was a lie, it comforted him anyway. When she pulled away, she placed her fingertips over her lashes for a moment. "I never wanted you to know about that," she said. "Why, Mom? He said you had to do that or he would destroy the whole family." "I can't talk about it, honey. I just can't." He bit his lower lip and waited for a moment. "Is it about my real father? He said something about Andy. Is Andy my real father?" he asked softly, a subject his mother refused to discuss, and talking about anything with his stepfather was an excursion into half-truths and out-and-out lies. But from the day he learned about chromosomes in science, he had known that one of his parents could not naturally be his. His mom was pure Irish, his father fair and sandy-haired, but it was blatantly obvious half of Danny's genes had come from someone of color. His hair was kinky, his skin the color of light coffee, and his eyes were a deep brown. From his height, he guessed his father was black. "You know I don't like talking about that, Danny," she said with a sigh. He pursed his lips in both frustration and a little bit of long-held anger about the subject. "I'm eighteen now. Don't you think I can handle it, whatever it is?" "Probably." Blue eyes looked into his, and they almost seemed to beg him to let it go, but he was tired and angry and he'd had a terrible shock that night. "Dad told me that you partied and drank and slept around so much that they didn't even know who to ask for a DNA test." "What?!" she burst out and propelled herself to her feet. She stomped to the door, the afghan forgotten as it slipped to the floor. She shut the door very firmly but still quietly, and hissed. "What exactly did he tell you and when?" Photographs Ch. 01 Taken aback, Danny said defensively, "I didn't exactly believe him. I mean, I'd learned by then that if he was bothering to talk to me, it had to be lies." He shrugged. "I was twelve, I guess." "Twelve?!" She paced to the desk, picked up a stapler and slammed it down. "Twelve?!" She slammed the stapler again. "What kind of monster says something like that to a twelve-year-old boy about his own mother? Even if it were true? Which it is not!" She raised the stapler once more, but Danny had crossed the room and gently pried it from her hand. "It's okay, Mom. I told you. I never really believed it. Come on. Sit." She let him guide her to the sofa where she lay down again. He settled on the sofa by her feet. She was upset, but if he relented now, he might not get another good chance. "Who's my dad, Mom?" His mother sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a second. "His name was Andreas Fulton. He raped me when I was fifteen." He nodded to himself. "I figured. It's the only reason I could think of that you wouldn't talk about it. Is that what Dad has over you?" She was quiet for a very long time before she said softly, "No, but I can't talk about that. It's someone else's secret." Another deep breath and she said more firmly, "He drugged me. I remember drinking a glass of iced tea and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital. Everything else I know about it was what people told me." Danny had to press. "Who was he?" "A house guest. An orphan your grandparents took in." She smiled a little. "You know how they are. He was Jamaican, as far as we knew. A senior in high school. No one knew who his father was, and his mother died in a fire that Christmas. We took him in so he could finish high school." She frowned and pressed her lips together. "And he repaid my parents' kindness by raping me. I was a good girl, Danny. Went to mass and catechism. A virgin." "Do I look like him?" "Yes, some. He was very tall. A basketball player, like you. But you also look a lot like your uncles, too. You know that." "Where-" "Enough, Danny," she said tiredly. "I'll tell you more some other time. It's been a very rough night for me. For both of us." Danny decided, a bit ashamed, that he had done enough. "Maybe we should both go to bed." "Yeah. I think I could sleep now." She didn't move for a second. "Danny?" "Yes?" "There is something I need help with, but it's very...uh...intimate." "What?" he asked cautiously. "Your father broke the skin on my back in a place I can't reach. I need antibiotic spread on it." "Oh. Um..." He thought with a nervous twinge about the clothing she'd have to remove for him to get to it. "Okay, I guess. Yeah, I guess I could help with that." "Thanks. Go to the bathroom. There's some antibiotic in the medicine cabinet." Walking to the bathroom, Danny thought for the first time that night about having seen his mother naked. The horror of what he'd witnessed had prevented any type of excitement he might have felt at the sight of a beautiful naked woman. Yes, she was very sexy, but Danny also remembered seeing marks on her back, legs, and upper arms even before his father wielded the cane. Sickened, he grabbed the medicine and returned to the den. She was lying on her stomach on the sofa when he walked in. The afghan was again over the lower part of her body, but she had lowered the back of her robe to below her shoulder blades. He stood over her for a moment, studying the shallow horizontal welt that ran across her spine. "Scooch over," he said. "Let me sit." She shimmied sideways into the back of the sofa to make room for him, and he sat down. He could feel the heat coming off her bruised body in the cool room. No wonder she wore such a light, skimpy robe. He swallowed and said, "You need ice." "Sometimes I do ice, but I don't want a lot of fuss right now." "It's really shallow. I don't think you have much to worry about." "He wasn't supposed to hit my back. It's dangerous. He lost his balance, I think, and the cane slipped." "Are you excusing him? He shouldn't have been hitting you in the first place." There were also some bruises that were older. Angry now, and determined to know the truth about what had happened to her, he curled his fingers around the neckline of the robe and slowly pulled it downward. "Danny!" she hissed. "Stop!" "No. I want to see what he's done to you." "Danny," she said, warning. "Stop right now." She started to lift up, giving him a glimpse of the side of her breasts, before she seemed to realize what she was doing and collapsed back down on her stomach, but not quickly enough for him to miss the fading teeth marks. His hands paused while he closed his eyes to ward off an image of his father with his teeth around his mother's tits, biting hard enough to bruise. Anger blazed into fury and he resumed the removal of her robe. "I have to know." She sighed and buried her head into the sofa cushion. "I never wanted you to know," she said, her voice muffled. He felt her stiffen when he reached her buttocks, but he kept going, removing both the robe and the afghan now until her entire body was exposed. Being an athlete, Danny had plenty experience with the life of bruises. The marks from the cane were horrifying, but many of the marks were from at least the day before, inch-wide bruises that might have come from a belt or strap. "Some of these aren't from today," he said. She turned her head so she could speak clearly. "When you are gone," she began. She swallowed. "When you are going to be gone for a while, he's more..." "Violent?" "I was going to say aggressive, but violent works, too. During the first couple of days. Then he seems to work it out of his system. It also helps me be not as stiff and obviously sore by the time you come back. But Danny, your dad is gone a lot, and most of the time he just doesn't feel like doing it. It's not always like this. Most of the times it's just spankings or a few hits with the strap. Even then, not more than a couple times a month." It was true his father, a photographer who aspired to be a paparazzi, traveled often, following celebrities and the rich and famous. It was also obvious that a lot of sexual sadism had been going on lately. He lightly ran his finger over a fading, yellowed bruise. "This is at least a week old, Mom," he said, outraged. "How could I have not known this was happening? How long has this been going on?" "He's very careful, Danny. His control is... frightening. Never on the face or anywhere it would show." "He doesn't want me to know." "He doesn't want anyone to know. In case you've never noticed, appearances are very important to your father. I often find that useful." Her mind drifted for a second, "I think... never mind." "What?" What she didn't want to say was that she'd researched the BDSM community. They might leave the occasional bruise, but not the masses of bruises Steve inflicted. Careful, yes, but Steve was also very brutal. And he did other things... humiliating things that she tried to forget. "Never mind, Danny," he said firmly. "How is it that I never heard anything, though? You started screaming." "The door was open tonight. It never is. Besides being in the basement, the stuff he calls light-proofing serves and sound-proofing. The house used to belong to a guy who had a small record label. It's the main reason Steve chose this house. And I..." She sighed. "I make sure the bruises are always covered so you can't see them." "How long, Mom?" "As long as we've been married. Sixteen years." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I think," he said slowly and deliberately, "I'm going to kill him." "No!" She raised up again, heedless of how exposed she was. "Promise me. Promise me, you will never let him know that you know. Promise." "If he knows I know, he might stop." "No, he won't. He'll do bad things to you and everybody. He'll think I talked, and everything I've fought for all these years will be for nothing. Please, Danny," she begged. "Mom-" "Please." He stared at the marks on her back, but said, "All right." Doesn't mean I can't still kill him. He lifted the robe and afghan back over her and reached for the ointment. "I promise, Mom," he said as he carefully smoothed it over her back. When he was done she rose while pulling her robe and the afghan over herself so that he couldn't see anything more. "I need another promise, Danny," she said. "What?" "Promise me that you will go to college out of state." "No." "You have to. I want you safe." "So you won't be? No!" She looked at the ceiling for a second, gathering her thoughts. "He's always been very jealous of you, Danny, and the older you get, the harder I have to work to keep you off his radar. Please, you need to go." "So he can beat you any time he wants? No. No no no and no. I won't leave this house unless you come with me." "I can't go. Please. Don't make all I've done and endured be for nothing." He rubbed his face with his palm, but when he said, "Sure, okay," it was easy because it was a promise he had no intention of ever keeping. Photographs Ch. 02 I walked down three blocks to the neighborhood grocery three or four times a week to keep my produce and meats fresh and that afternoon was one of those days. I didn't buy much at each time, just a loaf of bread, some steaks and some fresh salad veggies today, so I could carry it easily and not have to drive my car. It gave me a reason to get out of the studio and get some fresh air, at least as fresh as it got in the city. Checking out just ahead of me, I spotted Ms. Martinez and her three children, two girls and one boy. The Martinez family lived in one of the three apartments that occupied the lower floor of my building and I had seen her frequently enough to say hello but we'd never spent any real time together. This time though I noticed that she was having to carry the young boy and an enormous load of groceries in plastic bags and the two young teenage girls were both carrying their share. As soon as I checked out, I hurried after them and caught up before they reached the first corner. "Good afternoon, Ms. Martinez. It looks like you have your hands full. How about letting me carry those groceries since I don't have much to carry anyway?" "Oh, thank you, Senor Orville. My Esteban is sick today or it would not be such a chore." Carefully I took the bags from her and knew that she would have to be a strong woman if carrying that many groceries in bags that cut through your fingers was not a chore. We headed out again, the two girls in front and me walking beside Ms. Martinez with the boy. "What's wrong with Esteban?" I asked. "Oh, I think he has a cold. He has some fever and it has made him very sleepy." We made small talk the rest of the way and I carried her bags into the kitchen. As I set them down, I asked, "Is there a Mr. Martinez? I've never seen him." She laughed. "Yes, there is but that bastardo left us when I was pregnant with Esteban and now we are divorced. I swear he will never see the inside of my house ever again." "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to stir up old wounds." "No, it is alright. I don't usually think about him but when I do it makes me very angry that he would leave his family like that." "Yes, I know what you mean. Hey, since Esteban doesn't feel good, I know you don't have time to cook. How about letting me fix dinner for you and the children tonight? I've got some good steaks that need someone who will appreciate them." "Oh, Senor Orville, you do not need to do that for us." "Ms. Martinez, I would really like the company. It gets rather lonely sometimes all by myself." She laughed. "I don't think you are really lonely, senor. I see all the beautiful women who come to see you. However we will accept your kind invitation. Would seven o'clock be okay?" "That will be great. I'll see you then." I had just put the steaks on when the bell rang. I buzzed the door open and the family walked up. I waved them down to my living area and into the kitchen, where the salad was nearly ready as was some macaroni and cheese, which I figured the kids would like even if they didn't care for the salad. I asked how they liked their steaks cooked and was not surprised that all of them said well done. The next time I called her Ms. Martinez, the woman asked me to call her Gia. She introduced the girls as 14 year old Maria, 12 year old Estella, and 4 year old Esteban. I asked them to call me Gene. While the steaks were cooking on the grill set up on my balcony, I gave the family a quick tour of my place. They were surprised at all the scenes I had set up for photo shoots but Gia said she figured I was a photographer because of all the women who came to my place. Esteban, who seemed to be feeling better than he had in the afternoon, asked if he could play in the playground set and I told him that he could as long as he didn't scatter the sand. He started running laps around the slide - up the steps, down to the ground and around again - while the rest of us completed the tour. I wasn't going to show them my dark room where I developed photos and edited videos because there were several hundred photos of women in various stages of undress hanging on the drying lines. It was the one place in the whole floor that was completely enclosed to keep the room dark. I had covered the walls of the area just outside the darkroom with poster-sized photos of various landscapes I had taken from around the country over several years of vacation trips. The ceiling was artificial, one I had made myself from yards and yards of heavy black material strung over a frame of metal poles, like a tent. Estella darted into the workroom area and exclaimed loudly that her mama had to see it and all three of them were inside the area before I could protest. I followed them in, hoping that I had remembered to block the door to the darkroom. What actually happened was the posters captivated all of them. They exclaimed at the posters of New York waterfalls and Georgia floral gardens and Wyoming canyons and Kansas wheat fields. The girls stared raptly for a few minutes and then hurried out to go play with Esteban. Gia, however, stayed and continued examining the photos closely, as it she was studying fine art. When she nudged the door to the darkroom, it opened and she stepped in, studying the photos of nude women with the same intensity as the landscapes. I noticed that some of the ones she spent the most time poring over were stills made from video frames, showing my cock in some stage of plunging into a woman's cunt. As I stood watching, I noticed that Gia seemed to have developed a case of very dry lips because she kept licking them, although I still expected her to begin calling me a pervert. Almost in awe, I heard Gia ask, "Senor Gene, is this man you?" "Yes, it is. I'm sorry you came in here ..." "Oh, no. Look how clear the picture is. You can see every line on your dick, every vein, and on her pussy too. And on this one, you can even see where your stuff has come out of her." I quietly walked over and verified that she was examining a close-up, taken by one of the hidden cameras, of our connection as I had fucked my model two days before. It was about as explicit a photo of the sexual act of intercourse as could be generated. Gia peered closely at the photo, as if to verify that it was indeed a stream of my cum rolling down the woman's cunt, and then satisfied, she walked around the rest of the area checking on other prints. From the expression on her face, I didn't know what she was thinking. When she got back to the door, she called toward the playground set, "Come on, girls. Come, Esteban, it is time we go check on the steaks before dinner is burned. Si, senor?" Obediently the children hurried toward us, although Esteban was reluctant. We got the steaks off the grill at just the right time and carried the food to my small dining table. The steaks and macaroni were a hit with the kids and Gia seemed to enjoy her steak and salad. During the course of the meal, Gia said that I was a very good photographer and that she had suspected that I did something like that because of the fairly steady stream of women who walked up to my studio. By the time we finished dessert - a dish of ice cream with various syrups - it was nearly nine o'clock. Gia told Maria, "Take the little ones and put them to bed. I want to talk with Senor Gene a little longer." Obediently Maria herded Estella and Esteban down the stairs but not until each of them had given me a tight little hug as thanks for dinner. Maria included a kiss on my cheek as well. Once they were gone, Gia said, "Senor Gene, looking at your pictures stirred something in me that I thought was dead. I have not had sex since my husband left me. I don' have any close men friends that I would ever ask to do that and I would never ask a stranger. But you ... well, you have the gift, you have a large ... dick, and I consider you a good friend. I know that I am much older than those women you usually have here and I know that I am not ... uh, little here," as she cupped her breasts, "or here" and she slapped her hips. "But would you do that to me?" I pulled her to me and hugged and kissed her. "Gia, I would love to. You are a tremendously sexy, beautiful woman. Come," and I led her to my bed. She was out of her clothes before I could get out of my shorts and shirt so she helped me finish undressing. She was indeed the voluptuous woman that I had envisioned, with large, full breasts and broad round buttocks under a modest waist, supported by sturdy shapely legs. Gia gathered my cock and balls in her hands and began to play with my jewels. She dropped to her knees and closed her lips over the head of my cock. I reached down and picked her up and carried her to the bed. I lay down in the middle of the bed and pulled her over me in the 69 position. I was enthralled with the softness of her skin; for some reason, I had the erroneous idea that the older a woman got, the rougher, more leather-like her skin would become. Not so! She was soft and smooth everywhere I touched. As her mouth again found my cock, I spread her buttocks and sank my tongue into the soft flesh between the outer lips of her cunt. For the next half-hour we lost ourselves in giving and receiving oral pleasure. Gia experienced three shuddering climaxes with my tongue on her swollen clitoris and twice more while my tongue was playing a tap dance on her anus. I filled her mouth once and she swallowed every drop of my cum as if it was a rare treasure. We hugged and kissed for a while and before long my dong began growing again. I loved her scent, the very faint odor of wild flowers and cool, clear breezes. When I was hard enough, I turned her on her back, gingerly climbed into between her legs and eased my schlong into her sweet cunt while she watched with an expanding smile. I bent to kiss her and started a slow-motion pumping action, then curled around to suck on her left tit. To my surprise, I immediately got a mouthful of warm sweet milk. I immediately backed away from her and said, "I didn't know I was taking Esteban's dinner." "No, no, senior. There is always plenty for him and more left over. Please take what you want." Gia propped each of her large globes up with a hand, freely offering me all I wanted. I lowered my head and began to suckle, resuming my slow pumping motion and grinding my crotch on her pubis. It didn't take me long to help her to another orgasm and then another and a third – it was as if she was starved for sexual activity. Then she had a fourth climax just before my balls exploded and filled her now-sloppy cunt. I rolled to the mattress and she turned to face me and we hugged tightly. I thought it was intriguing how a woman could still retain her sweet fragrance even when the air around her was permeated by the smell of fresh hot sex. Gia's hands dropped to my crotch and worked magic in just a few minutes, so that I grew hard once more. This time she turned on her hands and knees and let me enter her from behind. That had always been one of my favorite positions, and my mind filled with lust at the vision of her beautiful round butt. My hands roved over her, savoring the smoothness of her body, the naturally tanned look of her skin. There were no tan lines noticeable anywhere on her lovely body. In another half-hour of wandering in and out of her love tunnel while my hands massaged her back, hips, butt, sides, stomach, abdomen, and clit, she came four more times before I spit another wonderful load of hot cum into her willing twat. I ended up with milky hands when I forgot that she was lactating and pulled on her tits during my final hard ramming of her cunt as I got off one last time. When I rolled onto the mattress, she shifted so that her hanging tits were just above my face and I sucked on them alternately for a few more minutes. Finally she said that she had to go but first she spent several minutes with her tongue down my throat, at last breaking away rather reluctantly and thanking me for a great evening. I watched her dress, hoping that it was a sight I would see many times in the future. Three days later, my bell rang early in the evening and when I answered it was Gia and her kids. I buzzed them in and they came charging up the stairs. The kids asked if they could play on the slide and Gia and I both told them that they could. Gia came toward me and addressed me standing at the opening to my living area. "Senor Gene," she gushed. "I have been so horny the last two days. I hate to throw myself at you but could we please fuck again?" "It would be my pleasure, Gia," I responded, leading her toward my 'bedroom.' As for me, nothing about Gia had changed anything. She was still the beautiful, desirable, sexy woman she had been in our earlier encounter. I couldn't keep my hands from roving all over her soft smooth body nor could I forget the fragrance of her hair, just the hint of wild flowers and fresh air. I started in the missionary position above Gia, although she rode me for a while, then we turned back to the missionary position and finally I fucked her doggy style for several minutes before we switched to spend some time in a scissors position. All in all it took me the better part of an hour to get to my second climax - the first came less than ten minutes after I sank my cock into her hot honey hole. It took Gia just a few minutes to have her first orgasm and then she had several more before I shot my next load deep into her sloppy wet quim. By that time, she was very happy and very sated, which was fortunate because I didn't think I could have moved a muscle for a while. We spent some time swapping very wet kisses while my hands explored the small of her back and the roundness of her ass. She said that it had been a long time since she had enjoyed herself that much. Because it was very late, I invited Gia and her children to stay over that night, even though it was a short walk down to their apartment. She said that she would but Esteban sometimes walked in his sleep and she was afraid that he would stumble down the stairs and get hurt. I couldn't argue with that but vowed to remove that as an excuse when the next occasion arose. End of Ch 02 Photographs Ch. 02 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. That week, the seed of desire that had been planted the night Danny witnessed his father beating his mother found fertile ground. Each time Danny looked at Christie, he wanted her more. It would hit him at odd moments. Watching her long hands deftly move between pots at the stove, he would have a sudden image of them wrapped around his cock. Occasionally he would have to leave for his room, and when this happened he often masturbated to that same fantasy, or stronger ones -- her lips stretched and her mouth full of cock was a favorite. Her shapely body lying naked below him, her expression lost in ecstasy. Going down on her. And it would hit him at predictable times. When he hugged her he had the strongest longing to bury his face into her shoulder, inhale her light perfume, and press kisses against her neck. If he held her a little closer than before, or a little longer, Christie had given no sign of noticing that Danny could see. He never saw the thoughtful looks she gave to his back as he walked away. ##### Christie knocked on Danny's door early on Monday of the first week of January. He groaned and rolled to face away from the door. "Go away," he said when she knocked again. "Want to earn a little extra money, Danny?" she called through the door. Money? Money always tempted, but not quite as strongly at 6:45 a.m. on a school holiday as it did at other times. "How much money?" he asked. "Fifty dollars. A hundred if you work all day. We've got lots of filing and I need someone to go through the mail and pay the bills while Monica is out." Monica, her secretary, had been gone for a week, would be gone for another, and the work was piling up. Danny rolled out of bed, pulled on a robe and came to the door to open it a crack. "She always bitches about me leaving her stapler in the wrong place." "You're never there when she does." "Point. I'll be down in ten minutes." ##### He drove with her to the office, having elected to work all day. It was a small, two-room affair within walking distance of the courthouse. Christie tried to get the accounting system on her secretary's computer, but it wouldn't boot up. She went into her own office, and logged into the computer at her desk. "Use this one for today. You remember how to use the software?" "Yeah, it's simple. I don't need to put the codes on anything?" "Do it if you can figure them out." She gestured toward a big stack of files in the corner of her secretary's office. "Um, that's the filing." Then she pointed to a basket on the desk. "Mail. Do the mail first and pay any bills due in the next week." "There has to be over a single week's worth of mail there. What does Monica actually do?" "You know she only works part-time, but I think Monica is working hard to earn her place on the unemployment line." "I hope so," he said, rolling his eyes. "Answer the phones?" she asked hopefully. "Sure. I'll just say you're in court and take messages." "Thank you, sweetie. It's better if they talk to a human being, even if I'm not here. You're really helping me out," she said and went up on tip-toes to kiss his cheek. For a blissful second he was enveloped by the scent of her, something light and floral, and the warmth of her body. Where once it would have warmed him, this time his cock twitched. Luckily, she was out the door moments later. Danny lugged the basket of mail to Christie's desk, taking advantage of her big comfortable chair after first adjusting it to his greater height. For an hour and a half he dutifully opened mail and paid bills, working slowly and concentrating hard to make no mistakes. It had been a few months since he had done this, and he felt rusty. A phone call interrupted him at ten o'clock, and after answering it he decided he had earned a break. He made a pot of coffee and sat down back at his mother's computer to see if she had any games. Not finding any, he went online and browsed through websites. After looking at several, he wanted to get back to one of first sites he'd found but couldn't find it, so he pulled up the browsing history. Danny didn't know it at the time, but what he saw there would change the course of his life. Christie had been looking at porn. Several times a week. He wet his lips and tried to imagine his sophisticated, elegant mother sitting in her office and watching people get off for the camera on her lunch hour. He looked at the date and time stamps -- Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays. All days when Monica didn't work, usually at lunch except for on Saturday. Did she lower her blinds and lock the door? She must, he thought. Did she finger herself in her office? The thought had him hard. His hand hovered over the mouse. He wanted to see what she was looking at, but it was so personal. It felt like a betrayal. Danny looked behind him at the window, open to a small, paved pedestrian mall. With knees that were just a bit weak, he rose and lowered the blinds. If his mother came he would say the glare was bothering him. It was sort of true. The most recent site advertised itself as Romantic Interludes. Danny sneaked looks at porn before, and Romantic Interludes was very tame compared to some of the things Danny had seen. It was romantic. Satin sheets and candlelight. If he had never seen his stepfather beat her, if he didn't know that he had blackmailed her into sadistic sex, he would have wondered what the turn-on was. But Danny had seen, and he knew this was something that Christie had never had. The thought was sad enough to wilt his hard-on. This window into Christie's soul felt too personal. He didn't know if he could bear to learn something so painful, but he looked on. He found a couple other similar sites. Many of the couples she had watched were mixed: a white woman with an African-American or Hispanic man. A site that featured college-age boys jacking off for the camera had him intrigued. Another site she visited often featured slightly older men doing the same thing. The final category were mixed-race couples, mostly white women with men of color. His erection grew painfully hard, but he didn't dare do anything about it. Someone, like his mother, could walk in at any time. She would be selecting jurors all morning, so he wasn't too concerned, but it might pay to be cautious. There were two videos that she watched often enough -- four times in the last month for one and six times for the other -- to link to directly rather than going through the site's main page. The first showed a buff Hispanic man of about twenty with a woman around twice his age. The woman had a passing resemblance to Christie, pretty and dark-haired. The second video, the one she watched more than any other, showed a fair, blond woman with a tall young man with dark skin. He didn't really resemble Danny aside from height and ethnicity, but something about the pairing of these two -- one dark, one so fair -- struck home. He quickly closed the browser, rose, and headed to the small bathroom off Christie's office. Safely behind a locked door, he fumbled with his zipper in his haste to pull out his cock. Danny imagined Christie sitting at her desk, watching the couples fuck. Perhaps she pinches her nipples first, through the fabric of her suit. From there she unbuttons her blouse, slowly, button after button. Her bra is satin, black against her fair skin. She pushes it down, exposing her breasts to the cool air, nipples hard. He wondered for a second what they looked like, and decided they would be the size of small cherries and taste as sweet. He swallowed, wishing he was sucking and tasting those sweet sweet breasts right then. He spread pre-cum on his dick and stroked in a fast, steady rhythm. Her stockings. He thought her stockings are the kind that only went thigh high, leaving her cunt bare to her touch. She raises her skirt up her shapely thighs, and thrusts her pretty pussy forward. Her fingers dip into the juices streaming from inside her and she licks them before slipping them into the folds around her clit and massaging herself there. Then Danny walks in. His mother looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes, a slight smile on her face. Danny kneels before her, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He tastes those sweet-cherry nipples, kisses her ruby mouth, and thrusts his cock deep inside. In the office bathroom, the real Danny came, spurting cum all over. He leaned back against the chilly tile wall, still stroking his cock, now sticky with cum. He imagined his mother again, this time naked on her knees before him, licking his cock clean. He looked down at the dick in his hand, but the sight of cum on his good pants put a damper on his arousal. "Shit!" He tried to stuff his penis back in his pants, still half-erect and coated with cum on the end. He pulled it out again and reached for a paper towel. Several swipes with a damp towel later, he got it stowed away and went to work on his pants. And the sink. And the floor. "I am an idiot," he said. It took a full five minutes before he was presentable again and able to return to the office. It looked exactly like he had left it. Danny raised the blinds and settled behind the desk to think. He had a lot to think about. ###### By 11:45 they had chosen a jury. Judge Risberg called a recess, and Christie walked back to her office. She found Danny chatting with Rafael Martinez, an investigator she sometimes hired. "Buenos dias, Ralph." Ralph, who had been raised in the States, replied with a mock Irish accent, "Top o' the mornin' to ye, Lassie." "Top o' the mornin'?" Danny said. "I didn't think people said that anymore, even to joke." Ralph didn't seem to mind. "I have to properly greet this fine Irish lass." Christie laughed and said, "What are you doing here? I think my subpoena is for tomorrow." "I'm here on another case." Ralph was fit, but not bulky, and with Christie's two-inch heels she stood just a little taller than him. But he had a calm, self-assured manner. Like many Hispanic men Christie had known, he always spoke quietly. She liked his company. He made her feel comfortable and safe. "Come to lunch with us. Do you have time?" "I was hoping you would ask that. It's what I came for." They walked down the mall to a nearby deli where Ralph and Christie ate lunch together several times a month. Christie ordered a salad and the men had sandwiches, which they ate outside at an umbrella table. They talked about business for a while, and then Danny's basketball schedule. Talk turned to Ralph's large family, sisters that were pregnant and brothers getting married, and Christie proposed a question that she had been meaning to ask. "Ralph, why aren't you married. Aren't you my age?" Suspecting he had feelings for her to one degree or another, she only dared bring up the subject because Danny was with them to act as a buffer. "Christie, amiga, the best women are all taken." He smiled a little mischievously. "It's the single life for me until one of them comes to her senses." Christie smiled, and Danny watched this little exchange with avid interest. Considering his mother's obvious taste for men of color, and the tiny blush on her cheeks, he wondered if she was attracted to Ralph. An irrational jealously gripped him, and he found himself clenching his fists. Don't be silly, he told himself, but the truth was, as he had learned that morning, there were things about his mom he never knew. Danny looked around the mall to calm himself and found something that sent his adrenalin spiking again. "Mom," he said quietly. She turned toward him, the smile she had been giving Ralph still on her face. It faltered at the expression on his own. "What?" "Don't look, but Dad is outside Starbucks watching us." Her expression froze, and then turned neutral. "Thank you, Danny. I think it best if we act as if he wasn't here." Ralph's eyes darted between them, then he turned his head slightly and took in Steve calmly drinking coffee and watching them as if he were at a play and they the show. "This is the third time," Ralph said. "Oh, it's far more than that. He's here several times a week." "How long has he been doing this?" "Since I got married. It's part of his routine. Go to the studio, take portraits, spy on Christie, go back to the studio, take more portraits," she said, and a touch of bitterness might have colored her voice. "How do you stand it?" Ralph asked. She exchanged a glance with Danny, who had a grim expression. Steve didn't always beat her, he didn't always beat her when he saw her having lunch with Ralph, or she might have stopped, but tonight would be the night. She knew it, and she could tell Danny knew it. "I'm used to it. This is my life," she added, and her words were for Danny, who still held her gaze. "It's best if we finish up and take our conversation to the office." ##### Steve Tyler took in everything. The way she smiled at Ralph, leaning in slightly. The little blush. He'd made Christie his life's study, every nuance of behavior. Just as he had known about Danny's girlfriend, he knew what Christie was thinking and feeling right now. His self-control asserted itself, and his right hand froze around the coffee cup, keeping him from crushing or throwing it. To all around, he was a man calmly drinking coffee on a brisk January day. He didn't beat Christie to punish her; beatings were more about his sexual needs. Besides, she didn't often give him reason for anger. But sometimes he had to exert his control to keep his house and his life in order. She was headstrong now and then. That MacAwley spirit. If he gave her a lot of free rein, it was because he recognized that, paradoxically, it kept her easier to control in those times when he demanded obedience. He could only push her so far, but tonight he would remind her that there was only so far that she could push him. ###### At 3:00 Danny finished the filing. He went through his pockets, put his pocket knife on the desk, and walked over to the courthouse to watch his mother. Past the metal detectors, he went upstairs to the appointed courtroom and slipped inside, taking a seat toward the front so he could watch. Trials were not usually the riveting battles seen on TV. A lot of times they were plain boring. Danny only came because he didn't feel like reading the book he had brought with him that morning, and he liked to watch his mother. Today she wore what he called one of her 'court suits'. Black skirt cut just above the knee, black jacket, white blouse, and black heels. A monochrome outfit that made the blue of her eyes even more shockingly deep. The suit made her look sophisticated and sexy at the same time. And yet, hidden beneath that sophisticated outfit lay the fading marks of a caning and bruises from a leather strap. A few minutes after he sat down, she took her turn at questioning a police officer. She rose from her seat and walked across the open space before the judge. He often thought of the way she moved in court as being like a big cat, a lioness, deceptively graceful beauty hiding the razor sharp claws she held in check until the right moment. Every eye was riveted to her, and everyone was equally shocked when she posed some question that betrayed her intelligence. Something so beautiful couldn't be so hard and ruthless inside, but that was the way Christie behaved in court. The defending attorney objected to something she said, and she calmly retracted it. Danny smiled. It would happen again. Christie would push as far as she could get away with. Today, Danny watched her distractedly, thinking of her taste in porn. It was obvious she liked men of color. What he wondered most was if she had ever made the mental leap from men of color to her son. Did she fantasize about him while she masturbated? Danny didn't really think so, but if she did, her behavior toward him had been flawless in spite of it. No, he didn't think so, but even if she did, he was mature enough to know that it was a very very long step from fantasizing about something taboo while you masturbated to wanting to actually do it. Sitting there, watching her, Danny made that mental step. He wanted to actually do it. Moreover, he believed that his mom needed what he could give her. She clearly was sexually frustrated. Lonely. Yes, she was very lonely. He imagined it couldn't be any other way. Beginning today, Danny would actively try to seduce his mother. The only question now was how to go about it. ###### On the drive home, Christie was silent. They usually had something to talk about, so after awhile Danny said, "What's wrong?" She shook her head slowly. "I hate this case." "What's the case?" "Civil suit against a drunk driver who left a little girl in a wheel chair. Hit and run." "You defending?" "No." "Wouldn't the guy be in jail already?" "He is, but the family wants damages." "Does he have a lot of money." "Some, but not a ton. If we win, he'll probably lose everything. His wife and kids will be in a bad way." She braked suddenly and he braced himself, hand on the dash. "And the plaintiffs?" "They are already losing everything trying to pay her medical bills." "Shoot. Sounds like it sucks for everybody." "And all because of one jerk's poor judgment. You think on that in the future when you're out drinking," she said. "Will do, Mom." "I'm serious, Danny." Then he reached out to the steering wheel and placed his hand over hers. Warm and large against her much smaller one, dark skin over fair, she stared at the contrast they made. "I will. I promise." After a moment he drew his hand away. It left hers cold and feeling somehow wrong, as if something was missing. She stared at her hand for a moment until the car behind her honked and she drove on. Photographs Ch. 03 The following day I had an appointment in the late morning with Jordan, a 19-year-old college sophomore who could pass for 15 or 16 easily. Feeling a little uneasy, I had her show me her identification so I could verify that she was of legal age. Her long blonde hair hung straight down below her shoulder blades and her hazel eyes had a way of stirring up my groin. She was a pretty girl but not my idea of super-sexy. Her tits had great areolas and nipples but no fullness. However she had a magnificent ass and her pussy was bald, both of which were turn-ons to me and a lot of other guys. Sometimes I had to remind myself that my job was to make photos, not to make judgements because somewhere out there, there are millions of men whose preferences were for body styles other than what most turned me on. Jordan started out with a rather aloof attitude and I knew that she would never have sex with me, at least not of her own volition. I started making pictures of her wearing a little schoolgirl outfit of white blouse, short plaid skirt, knee-high white lace stockings with white ribbons tied in a bow on the front of each leg, and saddle oxfords. I picked the "old schoolroom" setting which was a very small area near the playground equipment but surrounded on three sides by panels that had been painted to resemble an old schoolroom, with chalk boards, and book shelves and maps all around. The only furniture was an old wooden teacher's desk and a single standalone student's desk, the kind with a seat and built in writing platform that curved around the student's right side. Jordan proved to be a quick study, giving me all kinds of sexy poses from the student's desk before moving to the teacher's desk where things got a little more risque. "In what part of the country did you grow up?" "I spent all my life in Ohio until I moved here last year." She gave me some great shots of her little white panties, especially with her legs spread and skirt tossed up to her waist, waiting for a paddling. Then she began stripping down slowly as if offering herself to the teacher. "You're in college, right?" "Yes, my freshman year." By the time I snapped off shots of her spread-eagled bending over the desk, naked and offering herself from behind, and then laying on the desk with her legs pulled high and wide, I realized that she was a lot more desirable than I had first thought – my erection testified to that. "What is your major?" "Secondary education. I want to be a teacher." When I stopped to change film, she had watched the swinging fob on my camera until she was under my spell. With a little suggestion, she turned into a cocksucker while I reloaded the camera. Jordan turned her head this way and that, licking every bit of my shaft before sucking it all in, pushing her nose into my pubic hair. Her mouth would have done credit to the best of vacuum cleaners, creating a suction that finally pulled the sperm out of my balls. Although a little bit of my load trickled down her chin, she wiped it up with a finger and then licked her finger clean, as if every drop of my liquid was precious. "You are very good at giving blow jobs. How many lovers have you had?" "You are my lucky thirteenth." "Really. You must enjoy sex?" "Very much." After that her attitude was "whatever you want." I got all the pictures I wanted, including a whole series of me fucking her with a giant pink gel dildo that made her cum and cum and cum and I captured the essence of her pleasure in the look on her face in shot after shot. "What do you like to do the most?" "Well, that is a very difficult question to answer. I like it all. But I guess if I had to pick one favorite activity, I love to be on top in control. There is something so erotic about having a big hard cock pumping in and out of my pussy while I look down at the man. I really love that. I like to watch his face change expressions as my pussy makes the sensations change." When I was finished, I took her to my bed where she willingly climbed on top of my flagpole and fucked my brains out. The faint scent of lilacs mixed with the hot smell of sex was a heady aroma that set my senses to reeling. I pumped a fresh load of hot sticky sperm into her pussy before she sucked me to another climax. Finally I lubricated her ass and got her to lay flat on her stomach as my pole slithered into her bowels. She had said she couldn't stand anal sex but, after a post-hypnotic suggestion that she relax her anus, she took my rod and loved the pounding I gave her ass, cumming so many times to the sound of "magnifi-cunt" that we lost count. By the time I finished and rolled off her, she was laying in a puddle of her own juices that was nearly two feet across. She was so tired that she just fell asleep there without rolling over. Twice in the night I awoke to find her sucking on my cock. In the morning, Jordan said, "I can't believe how good I feel ... or how horny I am. Your cock tastes so good that I just couldn't leave it alone last night." And I had not even made any suggestions to her like that! When Jordan turned face down and raised her beautiful little bottom in the air, I couldn't turn down the opportunity. I climbed over between her legs and watched my raging hard-on disappear between the puffy folds of her pussy. While I spent the next half hour emulating a Texas walking horse oil well pump, my fingertips explored her smooth soft skin as far – and as near – as I could reach. When she raced for the shower, she was lamenting that she was going to be late for class; however she said she wouldn't have missed that last fuck for anything. That day I had no appointments so I went back to work putting together the shoots to submit to magazines. It was very tedious but gratifying work, seeing the artistry of the camera coming out on its canvass, the print paper. It was especially good picking the frames from the videos that I wanted to include, then converting them into photos. Maybe there was some pride involved in seeing pictures of my own penis in the mouth or pussy or anus of a sexy woman. I was deep in thought and buried in my work in mid-afternoon when I heard soft but rapid footsteps charging up my stairway ... if I was busy, I kept the outer door locked but otherwise it was unlocked or open if the weather was good, as it was that day. I was about to get up to investigate when I heard Estella's little girl's voice calling, "Mr. Gene? Mr. Gene? Where are you?" "I'm in the workroom, Estella." In seconds she came through the door at a rapid walk. "Hello, Mr. Gene. I asked Maria if I could come see you. I was wondering if I could play on your playground. Do you mind?" Suddenly realizing who was talking and what I was doing, I raced around the file cabinets to head her off, stopping her before she could see the pictures I was drying. I took her hand and pointed her to the playground. "You're welcome to use the equipment any time I'm not using it, sweetheart. Tell Maria and Esteban that they can come play too, if they want to." I watched her run downstairs only to return in a few minutes with the other kids in tow. I got to thinking about it and realized that there was no playground, either park or school, within a dozen blocks of the building, so I could understand why the kids liked it. I would have to think about expanding it some into the unused area of the loft. About half past seven that evening, the bell on my intercom at the front door rang. It was Gia asking if the kids were still in my apartment. I invited her up and met her in my living room area with wineglasses. We sat and sipped a white wine while making small talk. Near eight o'clock, she leaned forward and said, "Senor Gene, I wanted to thank you for the other night. You were so gentle when you fucked me it was ... delicious. I thought I would never want a man in my life again but ... when I saw your pictures, they did something to me ..." and she rubbed a hand between her legs. "I knew that I wanted to feel your big dick inside my pussy." I loved the way she said "pussy." With her Spanish accent, it came out sounding like poo-see. I said, "Well, I was flattered that you wanted to have sex with me. I think you are a really beautiful woman." "No, Senor, I know what I am. I have too much ..." she hefted her breasts, slapped both hips, and then hefted her tits again. "Too much meat for the tastes of men." "Gia, that is just not true. Millions of men love big-breasted women and more of them will turn for a well-defined butt than for a woman with a little bottom. I think you have a truly sexy figure. I'd love to photograph you. I could easily sell your pictures for a nice sum." She laughed. "Oh, Senor, you are just saying that. Nobody would buy my pictures." "Wanna bet? I could sell a layout of you tomorrow for big bucks." She asked how much and I gave her an estimate. Her eyes shot open. "So much?" came out as a harsh whisper. "Yes, maybe more." "How much of that would I get?" "I usually get fifty percent for making the pictures, developing, printing, and working with the publisher." "That is reasonable. Do you want to make pictures of me?" "Yes. It will mean that we will need to fuck too." She laughed. "Senor Gene, I think we would fuck even if you did not make pictures, no?" I couldn't argue with that logic. Gia instructed Maria to take the young ones home and put them to bed. Then we decided on the set-up for the lead-in pictures and I began working with her. In an hour I had her naked and was working on angles and close-ups of her tits, ass and cunt. When we finished, we adjourned to my bed. After sucking Gia's tits for just a few minutes, I went down on her and ate her pussy through four orgasms and loved every second of it. I loved the taste - slightly salty, tangy sweet, and the aroma – as heady mixture of sex and desire, and the feel – a silky smooth, hot liquid gold. Gia spent a few minutes lathering up my cock and sucking it before mounting me and going for a long slow ride while I sucked her tits some more. I spurted a load into her twat while she was collapsed on my chest, her own orgasms having sapped her strength. I made sure to pull my cock out of her and spray enough cum on her ass that the cameras would capture the picture of my orgasm. After we'd rested and she stroked my cock until it was hard again, I mounted her and plunged in and out of her slick cunt for several minutes before she turned over and stuck her butt in the air for me to fuck doggy style. Even though doggy is my personal favorite position for screwing, it is a kind of pain for taking pictures. A guy has to leave enough room between the two bodies for the cameras to get a good view of the penetration, whether it is vaginal or anal. I had pumped Gia's pussy for nearly fifteen minutes when she suggested I change holes. She relaxed her sphincter so much that there was barely any resistance as I pushed inside the puckered cover and found her tight ring of muscle ready to explore the contour of my shaft. Gia came several times and I climaxed twice before I pulled my cock out of her anus and went to wash up, each time having left streaks and puddles of my cum on her body. I would have a lot of material to work on from the six video cameras that had taped our action. End of Ch 03 Photographs Ch. 03 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. A few weeks later, Christie could hear the thunk of the basketball on the driveway minutes after Danny's car pulled into the drive. The uneven rhythm of the ball hitting the cement of the driveway was occasionally punctuated by the reverberations of the backboard as the ball bounced off it. Danny came in half an hour later when it got too dark to see. Steve had not arrived home from the portrait studio. "How was practice, Danny?" she asked as he reached for the cookie jar. "No cookies before dinner." "I'd like to see you try and stop me," he said, but he wasn't smiling. "What's up?" "Team sucks this year," he said with a mouth full of cookie. "You alone make up for a lot of sucky team." "There's only so much I can do. I'm a lousy defense player against a bunch of fast little guys. I'm a big oaf stumbling around the court while they dart in and around me. All I can do is make baskets." She knew he would have gone on and on with his personal pity party, so she said, "You've obviously never seen videos of your games. You're...graceful. It's like watching a choreographed dance. And the most amazing thing is they're not choreographed at all. You do it naturally." He was blushing and looking around so she decided to change the subject. "Set the table, will you, Danny?" "What are we having? She opened the oven to reveal a roast chicken. "That's kind of fancy for a week night," he said. "The jury came in and I came home early." She shrugged. "I felt like cooking." He knew what that meant. "You lost." She shrugged again and sighed. "It happens, even to me." Christie was about to bend down to take the pan from the oven when he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "I'm sorry, Mom." "It was a kid who got into a fight and accidentally killed somebody. He reminded me so much of your Uncle Mike," she said and leaned into him, closed her eyes, and breathed in his faint sandalwood scent, overlaid with clean sweat. "Now he's a felon." They lingered in the hug. Christie hadn't felt so comforted, so right, by someone's embrace since she was a young girl. Steve never held her this way. Never before being willing to lay them on her son's shoulders, Christie had always borne her hardships alone. Now something unfurled in her chest, a kind of peace. They heard the garage door and before Christie pulled away he placed a soft kiss on her cheek near the corner of her mouth, a little too close to be entirely chaste. She felt a little thrill that wasn't entirely chaste, either. ##### Danny came to Christie on a Friday night in February. She was in the big room where she danced and kept up with her other hobby: her many potted plants. Its walls were mostly glass, looking out onto the pool, and it had good light. "You don't look so good," she whispered to an enormous asparagus fern she knelt in front of. "Haven't I been feeding you enough?" She felt down around its roots. "Or do you need more water?" She took up a pair a scissors and began to prune away dead fronds. "You poor thing. Look at how much I have to cut from you." Suddenly, Danny squatted at her side, startling her. "Danny!" "You know, something I love about you is how you talk to your plants like they were children. You do realize they can't hear you?" "Hush. Don't listen to him, Phineas," she said to the fern. "You named him -- it -- Phineas?" "Of course. Phineas and Ferb, Phineas the fern." He nodded indulgently. "Of course." She looked up from the fern. "Did you need something?" He held out the cardboard box he held in his hand. In it was a drab little bird with brownish feathers. "What is it?" she asked. "A female something. Maybe house sparrow." "She looks like she's in a bad way." The bird's wing was obviously broken, and she lay limply on her good side. She was still alive. Christie could tell only when the bird's eyes suddenly opened, but Christie didn't think she had long. "A cat got her," Danny said. He seemed indifferent, but his distress was reined in, obvious only to someone who knew him well like Christie. "She's bleeding, and I don't think I can fix it." Danny was like a little boy with all the injured birds he brought home. Christie had no idea where he found them all, but one appeared in the cage he kept in his room every three to four months. Usually there were broken wings or legs, something he had learned how to fix. This one had been mauled beyond his ability to repair the damage. "She's suffering, Mom." Silently, Christie took the box from him. Made of stronger stuff than her son, she would be the one to take it outside and end its misery. ##### When she returned to the hobby room, Danny said, "I thought you should know that Dad was going from room to room when I got home from school today. He spent a long time in your bedroom." "Ugh. We'll have to do it tomorrow. The equipment is locked up in my office." She stood, dusting off her hands. "You know the drill." "Can't we do it tonight? I hate that feeling of being spied on," he said as he rose up beside her. "We'll just miss things in the dark. Daytime is better." "Can we sleep in a hotel tonight?" She thought seriously about this. In the last half-hour Steve had left for a weekend trip to visit his mother. Going from room to room before he left meant that he had likely bugged their home. Again. Video or audio, it could be either. Christie had no idea how long the first set of bugs had been in place before she found them six years ago while putting mouse bait in the attic. It could have been years. The wiring had been dusty and mouse-chewed. She ripped out the whole set-up and invested in radio-frequency sweepers and laser detection devices. Then the games began. Sporadically, Steve would bug the house, with wireless devices now; she would put GPS trackers on his car to try to find out where he was hiding his stash of inflammatory photographs. Neither entirely quit, but they had both slacked off over the past couple of years. They proved to be too good at thwarting each other. Christie eyed Danny now. She knew he had been looking forward to a weekend without his father around. Having the house bugged, even for one night, was almost worse than having him here. "A place with a pool?" he asked hopefully, correctly reading her expression. "We have a pool here." "Yeah, but a hotel pool has women in bikinis." He didn't smile. Apparently, the bird was not yet forgotten. "Can we go someplace where women wear bikinis?" Steve hadn't hit her in over a month, so she had would have liked to wear a bikini herself if she went to a pool. She thought about the way her son looked at her lately. Danny could watch her swim every day, in a sensible one-piece, if he would get up at 5:30 in the morning. That being unlikely to happen, he rarely saw his mother with that little clothing. With the way he had been behaving, lingering hugs, kisses not quite on the mouth, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. "Yeah, sure. A nice heated hotel pool." ##### True to her word, she found a major hotel with an enormous pool that was not only heated, but had a hot tub, waterfalls, and a glass enclosure to keep out the winter chill. Night sky and city lights were visible overhead and on three sides. The pool was nearly deserted that evening, and they enjoyed the feeling of a watery hideaway. Danny did a cannon ball into the deep end while she dipped a toe in and then entered with much more decorum. And sure enough, after surfacing Danny watched her the entire time. Her suit was one piece, black, and fairly modest for that kind of attire, but Danny had eyes for only her and not one of the other three women who were much more scantily dressed. One woman, bronzed and golden blond, wore a thong with a top that consisted of little red triangles of fabric that barely covered more than her nipples. She strolled along the poolside right in Danny's sight. His eyes flickered in her direction but then returned to Christie. She reached the bottom step, pushed off into a smooth breast stroke, and headed for the waterfall. Christie stood beneath it, cool water flowing over her head and torso. Soon Danny joined her. "I was just thinking," she said, "about being in a real waterfall in some tropical paradise." "Fruity drinks?" "Yes. With pineapple and an umbrella." "We never go anywhere," he complained. Christie sighed, reality intruding again. "Steve doesn't like anything new. You wouldn't believe how much stuff from home he packs with him for his trips." Danny suggested the hot tub, but coward that she was, she did laps for half an hour, giving Danny nothing to ogle until she exited the pool, showered off the salt water, and settled onto a lounge chair. He joined her moments later. Now she knew, she thought. Danny had a thing for her. She didn't know if it was normal, abnormal, a phase, or what. She didn't know if she should ignore it, confront him, talk it over. What she did know was that it disturbed her on some deep level she didn't understand. Those hugs and kisses, the looks, were something she craved, but she thought she craved them from an older man. She knew she always had, but now she was beginning to think she might be actually looking forward to the next time he did something inappropriate. The situation was further complicated by the fact that Danny was such a sweet boy, and so in tune with her. They had always talked, always enjoyed doing things together. Their home situation, the two of them versus Steve, had forced them into a union that simply was not an ordinary mother/son bond. She didn't want anything to ever come between them. "Tired already?" she asked when he plopped down in a chair beside her. "You should be," he said. "I was beginning to think you'd never come up for air." "I've swum half an hour every morning since we bought that house, and even before that if we were living in apartments with pools." "You're certainly fit." She smiled to herself. Yep, he had a thing. She couldn't help preening a bit, stretching out her long legs and relaxing back into her chair. "I like this swimming at night. I don't have to worry about sunburn." "I never have to worry about sunburn." "You burn, it just takes longer. We learned that the hard way when you were very small. I felt like a horrible mother that day. That's why I insist you wear sunscreen, even if you're half black." "You shouldn't have worried. You're a great mother." I'm beginning to doubt that, she thought. "I'm hungry," he said next. "My role in life: keep the teenager fed. If you died tomorrow, I'd put 'I'm hungry' on your tombstone." "Uh huh. So..." He grinned. "I'm hungry." ##### Food, more swimming, a late snack, and eventually they went to their room. Suddenly, the idea of sleeping in the same room with her son, even with separate beds, felt very awkward. She decided not to shower, even though the poolside showers had not washed all the salt from her skin and hair. Taking a robe with her, she changed in the bathroom into her usual night clothes of girlie shorts and a camisole, and wore the robe until seconds before she slipped into bed. She didn't catch Danny's smile at this, but she did notice that he had no qualms about coming out of the bathroom in his t-shirt and boxers. They turned off their lights. "Night, Mom." "Night, Danny. Love you." "Love you," he said sleepily. Soon Danny breathed softly and regularly. She didn't think she would sleep easily, but all the swimming caught up with her and she soon drifted off. ##### Christie awoke in the middle of the night from light coming on in the bathroom. Frightened and disoriented, she started up in bed. Hotel, hotel room, she realized. Through the thin wall, she heard the sound of Danny peeing, then the toilet flush and the tap in the sink. And then nothing. Danny didn't come out. After a few minutes she gave in to her first thought: Danny was jerking off in the bathroom. To her shock, the thought aroused her. She squeezed her legs together and rolled over in the bed. Thoughts of Danny with his hard shaft in his hand filled her head, and her breasts became so sensitive, the fabric of her camisole felt like sandpaper against her erect nipples. She wanted to rip it off her and knead and twist them between her fingers. She rolled over in bed again. Her legs clenched and rubbed together to try relieve her swollen pussy. Finally she held the extra pillow over her head and groaned, keeping it there until she realized she wouldn't hear him if he came out. From the bathroom, Danny moaned, and she could hold back no longer. She thrust her hand into her panties, rubbing her aching clit and pinching her nipple with the other hand. She pictured Danny jerking off and she began to rock her hips, squeezing her pelvis. Danny, his face taut with excitement, his boxers pulled down, his hand working furiously on his cock. She heard another moan, and then Danny groaned loudly and she had to hide her face in the pillow to muffle her cries as she came with her son. Never had she come so quickly. All was quiet for several minutes, but Christie still breathed heavily when the bathroom door opened and the light flicked off. She kept her face in the pillow and held her breath the best she could. Apparently, it wasn't good enough. Danny paused at the foot of her bed. "Mom?" he said in the barest whisper. "You awake?" She made a soft, sleepy sounding groan, wiggled a little and went still. Danny didn't move for several moments, but went to his bed without saying anything further. She heard the squeak of the mattress and then nothing. Christie had masturbated thinking of her son, and it produced one her best orgasms ever. She felt too relaxed and sated to worry about it much right then. That would come in the morning. ###### At 5:15 a.m., Christie awoke as she always did no matter how little sleep she'd had. Her bathing suit was still damp, but she pulled it on anyway and quickly braided her hair. Before she left for the pool, she paused by her son's bed to watch him sleep for a moment. He had grown very handsome, she thought. He wasn't the standard American idea of male beauty, but she thought him beautiful none the less. His face could almost be Anglo but wasn't quite, his lips a little too full, his cheekbones a little too wide, and his eyes a rich, glossy, dark brown. His body was perfect. Muscled in the right places but not overly so, he had the body of someone several years more mature than eighteen. He filled the bed, sprawled on his stomach with the covers kicked aside. She could look at him much longer, but she wanted to be in the pool at her usual time. Christie thought swimming laps a perfect way to meditate or work out problems. While she swam her way from one end of the long pool to another, she thought a lot about her porn habit. It was a secret pleasure, and an urge that she still did not understand, although she often figured it arose from her completely unfulfilling marriage bed. She and Steve had regular sex -- frequently, despite sleeping in separate rooms -- but he simply failed to arouse much feeling in her. Oral sex was the exception. She liked to both give and receive it, and Steve was very good at it. Steve liked to go down on her, but he seldom let her have so much control over his own orgasm as to let her suck him off. She would have liked more of that, but Steve was more likely to fuck her face. Christie needed the emotional connection to raise her libido. That's why she liked Romantic Interludes so much. The website stirred her fantasies. Then there was her taste for men of color. She had always known about that one. Now, all these factors were coming together in one person: her dark son who was her friend and companion. She had masturbated last night while thinking about him. Christie groaned with her face still under water. She never thought of him that way before, but the genie had popped out of the bottle and she didn't know how to stuff him back in. One thing she did know was that she was headed for trouble. ##### On March 1, Danny arrived home from basketball practice at his usual 5:00 p.m. He parked his car in the driveway and got out with his basketball in hand. It was still a bit light, and more practice never hurt. Besides, he was dressed for it already. Danny bounced the ball at the end of the drive a few times before speeding toward the hoop on the garage, dodging imaginary opponents, and performing a perfect lay-up at the hoop. He smiled, then repeated the moves to the opposite end of the drive and circled back again to make another basket. Over and over. It wasn't that he loved basketball so much, but he did love being good, that exhilarating feeling of a perfect performance. He enjoyed games and overcoming a good opponent, but games with a crowd unnerved him. Danny was uncomfortable in large groups of people, preferring to stay out of the center of attention. On a good practice like this, Danny could forget time entirely, so he was startled to notice how dark it had become when a small floodlight suddenly came on. He heard applause from the side driveway. "Hey, Mom." She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt from the Maroon V concert they had been to last fall, so she must have been home for a while. "There's mail for you," Christie said. "Where from?" He stepped back from the hoop and began to make shots. "University of Pennsylvania and UCLA." His next shot missed by a full foot. "Oh." He didn't know whether to feel excitement or dread. "Why don't you read them?" He caught the ball and dribbled back to make another shot. "Okay." She tore open an envelope while saying, "Word for word or just the gist of it?" "Just tell me whether I got in or not." Another shot missed. "Damn." Christie noticed. "Calm down, I'm sure it's good news." She held the first letter up toward the nearest string of lights. "Woo hoo! U Penn accepted." Danny stopped mid-dribble, clutching the ball to his stomach. "Okay," he said slowly. "Aren't you excited?" she asked, a big smile on her face. She walked over to where he stood like a statue and hugged him, the ball coming between them. "Read the other one." She retrieved the UCLA letter from where it was tucked under her arm, opened it, and also held it up to the light. "Scholarship." He relaxed, suddenly happy. She hugged him again. "This is amazing." Tight squeeze. "I'm so proud of you." Danny dropped the ball to return Christie's hug, feeling better than he had in two months. He knew his parents could afford to send him anywhere, but with a scholarship to UCLA, Steve would have no excuse to insist that he move out of state to take advantage of a scholarship elsewhere. He could continue to live at home and keep watch over his mother. Danny had made it his mission to prevent more beatings. Following his mom's lead in her dealings with Steve, Danny had been subtle. He stayed up later on Friday and Saturday nights which, being a teenager, wasn't hard for him. He kept his door open more often, and found excuses to leave his room in the middle of the night. He'd begun to build a backlog of little excuses, canceled spring break plans, turned down offers for sleep-overs with friends although he invited friends over as often as possible. Danny intended never to travel anywhere ever again as long as Steve was in the house. Photographs Ch. 03 Still, it hadn't really done anything. The slow way she sat down at the dinner table, the long-sleeved shirts on warm days, the day she lay in bed because she 'just didn't feel well.' Danny now knew the signs. "UCLA is a great school," he said. Christie's smile faded a little. "But UPenn is a great school, too." He put on his best determined smile. "I'm going to UCLA." "Danny," she raised her hands in frustration, the papers in each fluttering. "We discussed this." "No. You gave me an order." He bent to pick up the ball so he wouldn't see her expression, but the tone of her voice told him everything. "You promised." He bit his lip, looked his mother in the eyes, and said, "I lied." "Danny!" He glanced up at the house. Steve was probably home, so he shifted until he was closer to her and whispered, "I am never going to leave you alone with him so he can beat you even more. Ever. I'll remain in this house until you find a way out of this marriage." The look of betrayal on her face almost gave him pause, but didn't completely succeed. "I mean it, Mom." "I'm trying, Danny, but I have been for sixteen years, and I don't think there is a solution any more." "I could help you, you know, if you would just tell me what it's all about." She looked down, took a deep breath and sighed it out. "You don't realize how much happier I've been these last few months, knowing that soon you'd be safe from him. You're all that matters to me anymore, baby. I want you safe." "What can he do to me? And what about you? Getting beaten every other weekend doesn't matter?" "I don't know what he will do. He's dangerous and unpredictable." She looked up at last. "There is no telling what he is capable of." "All the more reason for me to help you get out of here. I'm not leaving. Do you understand?" He bounced the ball to burn off some frustration. "Danny. My life is already fucked up, but yours isn't. I've protected you from him all these years, but as you've grown older, it's gotten harder and harder." "How? How have you protected me?" "By staying. I told him from the beginning that if he harmed you in any way -- any way -- I would leave, consequences be damned. My captivity is what he wants more than anything. It's worked until now, but now that you're an adult, he can hurt you in other ways." "Like what?" he asked, a challenge. He found it hard to believe that mild, bland Steve was capable of much more than beating up a woman. "I found some papers in his briefcase last fall. Internet printouts on injuries that ended basketball careers." The ball slapped into Danny's palm and he fumbled for it. Missed. "What? What do you think he intended?" "To punish you in some way. To take away what he sees as your heart's desire." "It's not." "We both know that, but I don't think he does." "I'm an adult now. That also means I can protect myself. I'm warned now." He watched the ball's slow, erratic roll down the driveway. "And you, Mom? What about your life, and what about what you want?" "What I want doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. You're the one that matters." He leaned in close. "Bull. Shit. You matter." "Hey!" Steve yelled from the front door. Both of them started and turned in his direction. "We gonna have dinner anytime tonight?" "I'm on my way in," Christie called back. "It's almost ready." She turned back to Danny. "We'll discuss this later." "Discussion requires two people," Danny said, "and I'm through talking. I'm going to UCLA." ###### Steve Tyler wasn't oblivious to the tension around the table that night. Christie and the bastard-child weren't talking, which was both a welcome relief and so unusual it disturbed him at the same time. Usually it was 'how was your day?' and 'what homework do you have tonight?' Then they would chatter on about the shows on that night, or the news or, until recently, what Danny planned to do with that slut girlfriend of his the next weekend. Steve never understood how the stupid boy never saw what was so plain in every look and every move that girl made, it might as well have been written on her forehead in marker. Slut. Slut slut slut. She had even brushed up against Steve a few times, and then squeaked a demure, "Excuse me," while fluttering her lashes. If he had met her in another place, another city... but no, she wasn't his type. Too blonde. Too short. She had nice tits, though. Steve supposed that looking beyond those tits to see that his girlfriend was putting out for everybody but him was too much for a shallow teenager like Danny. Steve saw it, though. Steve saw everything. They ate their weeknight dinners in the breakfast nook that Christie had insisted on decorating in yellows and pale oranges. In fact he had let her decorate most of the house once she proved that she had enough sophistication to make them look like they fit into the neighborhood. Only his studio and his own bedroom she left to him. His retreat, where he developed his special photographs and made his plans. Eight days. Eight days until his next trip. Austin, this time. A week in Austin for a big music festival should get him some good shots of celebs and, if he was lucky and very clever, some shots in their hotels. A week for work. A week to find a target. Big city, lots of targets. Playing paparazzi was a little hobby that hid his real ones. Lost in his anticipation, he missed something that the bastard-child had just said. "What?" "Danny just said he's got a scholarship to UCLA." Christie didn't seem happy about that for some reason. He thought she'd never want that kid to be yanked from the tit. Steve glanced from Christie to Danny, who spooned up pork stew as if oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. For a disconcerting second, he thought he might not have the full insight into his household he thought he did, but that second passed and he reasoned it out. Danny was a teenager, therefore he would do the opposite of whatever Christie wanted. She was psyching him out. Trying to be sure he stayed. Steve was perceptive enough to know that Danny would definitely do the opposite of whatever he recommended, so he sided with the boy. "UCLA's a good school for pre-med," he said. "If we can save on some tuition, all the better. You can live at home, save us even more." Danny set his spoon down, looked at his mother, and then said warily, "Yeah. That's what I think, too." Well, so much for that. "Don't you want to see some of the world, Danny?" Christie asked. "Have some freedom? Think of all the stuff you could do without your parents constantly looking over your shoulder." She turned to Steve. "He got an acceptance letter to University of Pennsylvania today, too." Danny was inhaling stew again. The boy ate like an African elephant. Steve had to watch every bite and run twenty miles a week to stay trim. Another reason to hate the kid. "I have a lifetime to travel, Mom. I'll probably have to go pretty far once I reach internship." He shrugged. "I'll have my adventures then." Her voiced developed a hard edge, as if the conversational road had been traveled enough to wear it down to the bare elements. "Medical school is pretty grueling. You'll probably have no time for travel." "Mom, we've discussed this." Aha. They had been talking about this for some time. Interesting. Steve's attention was glued to the conversation. "I know, son, but this decision is so important." "And that's why UCLA is such a good idea. They have a great medical school, too, and going there pre-med might get me an in." Christie sighed and fingered her spoon without picking it up. She had dipped it into her stew, but never actually took a bite. Her bread lay crumbled around her plate from where she had picked at it. Most of her salad still sat in the bowl. Christie definitely felt strongly about this. Very strange. Again he felt his understanding slipping, sub-context swirling around him that he couldn't decipher. His right hand and arm tingled, itching to hold a strap and swing it over Christie's back, to hear her hiss when the pain became more than she could fight any longer. Beat her enough, and who was in control of her home and her life became crystal clear to both of them. For now it would have to be enough to thwart whatever she was planning. "Let me look over the paperwork," he told Danny. "If anything needs a parental signature, I'll sign for you." Photographs Ch. 04 The mail that week brought me a check from Lust Magazine, another check from Swank Magazine, one from Big Tits Magazine and another from 18Eighteen Magazine for layouts I had submitted within the past six weeks. That was about typical of the time it took to mail in my submissions, get approvals, and have the checks returned by mail. Chances were that I had three or four other submissions in to all of those magazines as well as others since these had gone in. I deposited all the checks, wrote new ones for half those amounts and set up appointments for the four models to come in and pick up their money. Each of them appeared at different times during the morning hours, giving me an opportunity to give them their money and then, thanks to the ability to recall the post-hypnotic suggestion, fuck each girl once more, creating more videos for new projects. I also scheduled new shoots with three of them for the following week. On Tuesday afternoon, I responded to the bell to admit a mature Georgia Albright. She was a good looking woman, even considering her age, but the feature that immediately caught every eye was her chest. Georgia has posed for me a couple of times before and this is a follow-up visit generated by a combination of my suggestion and her lust for the money she gets for posing for me. I was sure I would have no trouble finding a buyer for the layouts. There are an almost endless array of magazines dedicated to displaying women with exceptionally large breasts and their other body parts. I knew from experience that Georgia exercised daily to keep the muscles holding her jugs in tone so that there was minimal sag to them. Sheer gravity exerts a force on them but I was amazed at how well they stood up without help. We used a set that made it look like she was in an urban setting and exposing herself to viewers. In fact most people who saw her photos would swear that they were taken in the heart of Manhattan, but that's because they wouldn't be looking closely at the background. Actually there weren't any viewers either but most people who saw the shots would think that there were because they would be focused on Georgia's mammoth delights. Georgia wore a little white blouse that she tied under her tits, exposing lots of creamy flesh in the deep vee opening. She had on a very short black skirt that didn't quite cover the bottom curves of her generous ass, letting the tops of her black fishnet stockings show. With the black five inch heels and a black velvet ribbon tying her shoulder length blonde hair in back completing the ensemble, Georgia looked like a high-priced hooker. "Do you mind disclosing your age?" "Not at all. I'm 51 years old. Do you think I look like it?" "No, you surely don't. How tall are you?" "I'm five feet seven inches tall." "And what are your measurements?" "I'm 52 inches in the bust with a JJJ cup size, a 34 inch waist and 46 inch hips. I know that is not the ideal figure but some men seem to like it." "Yes, and I'm one of them. Once I had taken several dozen pictures of her at different angles and with her slowly removing her clothes, "Are you married?" "Yes, I've been married for 32 years." "To the same man?" "Oh, yes, we've had a good marriage. We have both had sex with other people and we talk about it with each other. He likes to hear about mine and I like to hear about his." "So he's okay with you taking other lovers?" "Of course. He has sex almost every day with one of the women from his office so he would have to be okay with me doing the same or we couldn't stay together." Georgia gave me a posed blow job that was sensational, not only because it was slow but because she could deep-throat my cock and the camera captured the image of it expanding her throat. Georgia also was able to suck both of my big balls into her mouth at the same time and look so innocently at the camera. Those pictures were worth their weight in gold! I took Georgia down to the playground and laid her on the long plank seesaw, then straddled the board and lifted it up while I slid my cock into her pussy. It was a unique fuck with the seesaw being a little unstable but I didn't let it ever get completely out of control. While I stood spread-eagled, I moved the seesaw slowly up and down while Georgia held her legs drawn back by her big tits. It was a little tricky to make sure we got the photos we needed but it worked out well in the long run. After she had cum a couple of times, I got her turned over and pumped her pussy from behind until I shot my load into her cunt and over her back. We went back to the cityscape and Georgia sucked my cock until I was hard again. Then placing my erection between her huge boobs, she gave me a tit fuck to remember. The flesh of her boobs was so unbelievably smooth and soft that it just blew my mind sliding in and out of that artificial tunnel. And yet there was enough friction as she held her tits tightly together that I got all kinds of wonderful feelings from our contact. I knew that men who had sampled such a fantastic delight would enjoy the pictures of Georgia giving me the unusual fuck. Although Georgia didn't cum, I sure did ... all over her lovely face with her mouth open, her tongue trying to catch the white streams of sticky liquid, and her laughter letting me know that she was having fun. In a way it felt strange to be having sex with Georgia. Although I had never met her husband, I knew that she was married and it always felt odd to fuck a married woman. Still Georgia said that he didn't have that much interest in sex with her anymore because he didn't like big tits. She said hers had grown enormously during the nursing of their four children many years ago. Now he chased younger women so she felt free to screw other partners. Even knowing she was married, I couldn't turn down a chance at her wondrous delights. It was the same set of feelings I had with each of my married or otherwise attached models/partners, of which there were more than a few! Such was the case with 28 year old Janice. She was a very cute lady with long blonde hair which she usually combed out straight and tied together at the back of her neck so that it hung down below her luscious bottom. Janice was a full-time mom, with daughters aged five, three and 14 months. She hated the thought of a babysitter caring for her little ones so she always asked for an evening appointment, something I didn't normally do but made an exception for Janice and a couple of other ladies. That gave her hubby Ken time to get home from work, eat dinner and then care for the kids while Janice came over to the studio for a photo shoot. Although I had never met Ken, Janice talked to me about him frequently. She'd tell me how, right from our first meeting, when she went home, she asked him to eat her out while she sucked his cock. Of course he notice the cum dripping from her pussy but she said that, after she had attacked his cock hungrily, he ate her until my cum was gone and when she turned around and sat on his member, he didn't seem to have any problems that she had just fucked me. Since this was Janice's seventh session with me, we had to be creative in coming up with a different approach. We finally settled on a teacher-student environment, where she was the teacher and I would enter the picture, barely, as her student. She put her hair up in a bun, put on a pair of glass frames without lenses, and put on a frilly white blouse that buttoned all the way up to her neck and a dark plaid skirt that almost touched the floor. When she added a pair of black boots that looked like they came out of the 1800s, I almost laughed ... she looked anything but sexy. Before we got started on her, I took a few set-up photos of myself ... well, really not of me but just parts of me that would be used to suggest what we wanted people to believe. One showed my jeans-covered legs crossed as I sat at a desk; another showed the crotch of my jeans as I stood, not erection showing; still another showed my jeans tented as if I had an enormous erection ... and I have to admit I didn't have to fake that! Then I started on Janice. I took shots of her from every angle with all kinds of expressions, changing the angle of her head, the cut of her eyes, anything to modify the setting. Once I had those and reloaded my camera, she began by letting her hair down. Oh, how sensuous that can be! And Janice was good at it. Before we were finished, I could imagine that silky smooth hair wrapped around my cock and balls, sending the most delicious thought to my already overloaded brain. From there she went to unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time, ever so slowly. With two buttons open, she started stroking a finger down her barely visible cleavage, a long fingernail adding to the excitement. She jumped from the blouse to lifting the long skirt, showing old style petticoats underneath. The boots became the center of attention for a while, a total turn-off, but the removal of which was intriguing. When the boots went flying, it was stocking time – except she stopped before showing very much and moved back to the buttons on the blouse. With the center connecting portion of her bra showing, the smooth round curves of her luscious breasts appeared and Janice naughtily teased subsequent readers by slowly working her fingernail over the sexy roundness. Then more buttons came open until she pulled the blouse out of the skirt's waistband and discarded it, all very slowly so I could record each movement. It was time to remove the skirt and Janice made a big production out of it, just as she did everything else. Then one by one the three petticoats fell away, leaving her in bra, lacy white panties, and dark thigh high stockings, a picture of female pulchritude. Removal of the bra was another major production. By the time she had played with her nipples just a few moments, the were hard little rubbery protuberances that thousands of men would drool over. Dropping her panties was another major event and focusing on the soft lacy inner lips which protruded above the puffy outer lips just seemed to make the little triangle of blonde pubic hair seem that much more inviting. By the time she had settled back on "her desk," spread her legs and opened her pussy with her fingers, I wanted to dive in, just as most readers would. I was luckier than most readers though. I actually got to dive in. I got pictures of my tongue delving into her depths. I got pictures of my cock wandering in and out of her sweet pussy. We got pictures in the missionary position, in doggy, and her riding cowgirl. Ultimately every one that I was in would be edited so that only the bare minimum of me would be shown – my cock, maybe my balls, enough of my face to tell that I was eating her but not enough to make an identification. That wasn't my business; just being the stimulation for her was my job (along with taking the photos, of course). By the time I had run through four 60-frame hand-loaded rolls, we had enough for one shoot. Janice was so hot by then she told me I was dragging my butt when she headed off to my bed. I don't think I was – she was just very eager. We licked each other from head to toe before she pushed me back and climbed onto my sword and began to ride. The sweet smell of fresh hot pussy mingled with a light perfume that smelled of ... Poison? How misnamed was that one! It just made my cock that much harder. I closed my eyes and began to read her body as if it were covered with Braille script. Oh, man, were those sweet words of encouragement! After we had both cum once and rested for just a bit, I rolled Janice over and pierced her with my newest erection. Capturing her legs within the circle of my supporting arms, I spread my legs to ensure that the cameras would get plenty of great shots of my cock roving in and out of Janice's sweet little pussy. Then just as I felt my balls contract, I pulled it out of her and aimed it at her body, spraying it from her hair all the way down to her cute cunt. There was no doubt about the outcome. I was ready to call it a night but Janice asked me to fuck her one more time. She turned over and I plowed her pussy from behind doggy style. This time she wanted me to shoot all my cum inside her so hubby would have something to clean out of her when she got home. I'm not sure I understand that mentality but he seemed to like cleaning her up and then fucking her and she loved it too. Who was I to argue? End of Ch 04 Photographs Ch. 04 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. Christie hid a sigh of irritation when Steve came to her bedroom. It was earlier in the evening than he usually wanted sex, and far too early for fun and games in the basement. He surprised her by slapping down a thick, cream-colored envelope on the nightstand by her side where she had been reading in bed. Glancing at his bland non-expression, which told her nothing, she picked up the envelope and opened it with misgivings. Tickets. It held tickets. The only intersection between Steve's career and the lives of the rich and famous were those fleeting moments caught in the lens of his camera. He followed them around, intruded in their lives, and occasionally snapped a photo that would earn a few dollars. His main business, his portrait studio, was lucrative, and sometimes his clients left him valuable "tips." This time it was a $5,000 pair of tickets to a charity gala. Yes, Steve would like something like that. "He couldn't attend for some reason," Steve said. "Find something to wear that goes with diamonds and emeralds." "Emeralds?" "Necklace, earrings, and matching bracelet." "Where are you going to get something like that?" "Borrowed." "Borrowed? From who?" "Whom," was all he said on the subject. "I'll be in a tux. Find something suitable." Appearances. With Steve it was all about the appearances. He smiled. "I'm sure you'll look magnificent on my arm." She looked at the tickets again. "This is in three days!" "You'd probably better start tomorrow." "I have appointments. Clients." "You're resourceful. I'm sure you'll manage." Resourceful. That was almost a compliment on something besides her looks. Pissed now, she said, "You can't bring a camera or business cards." He leaned forward a little. "I am aware of that." He was using his 'this is not negotiable' tone, so Christie dialed back the irritation. At least what she showed. "Will there be movie stars there?" she asked. "Probably." "Well then, I'd better go shopping. It'll be expensive." "But worth it," he said. ##### Three days later, dressed in a gown worth several days' worth of billable hours that she would probably wear once, Christie descended the stairs in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. She had no idea what perfume movie stars wore, so she relied on her mother's favorite. Danny stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her with his mouth open a little. Her black gown fit like a second skin. Gems dangled from her ears, and her hair was artfully arranged at the back of her head, little curls cascading down. It looked good. Amazing. "You should be one of the movie stars," he said. She held up a necklace. "I can't seem to get this on." She handed it to him. "Would you?" Danny whistled. "Is this real?" "I think so. I have no idea where he got it." She turned her back to him. "I'm probably wearing half a million dollars of rock tonight. Maybe more." "Don't you wonder...?" She looked toward the basement stairs, down the hall. "I wonder," she said quietly. Danny fumbled a bit with the catch of the necklace, then reached around her shoulders to encircle her slender throat. The dress was sleeveless and low-cut in front and back. "No bruises," he said. "No," she agreed. "This catch is tight, but I guess you need that with a half-million-dollar necklace." He finally got it clasped, but didn't pull away, instead lowering his hands to wrap them around her waist and pull her body closer to his. He placed a kiss on her jaw from behind and whispered, "You are so beautiful." For the briefest moment, Christie enjoyed a quiver of arousal at the juncture of her thighs, and then pulled away from him roughly. "Your father is right down those stairs," she said in a voice only he could hear. "We would see the light change when he opens his door," he said, his eyes on the basement stairs. She glanced in that direction for a second. "The man is sociopath," she hissed. "Never forget that. And never, ever, take a risk like that again." He nodded. At that moment the light did change, and a few seconds later they heard Steve's steps on the stairs. He appeared bearing a white mink coat that she'd never seen before. ##### Tension again. Steve always saw the undercurrents swirling around him, but he rarely understood them. Something was going on between the kid and his mother. He had no idea what it was and it disturbed him on a fundamental level. He felt a flesh-crawling uneasiness that could easily drive him to violence. But Christie stood tall and proud, and elegantly beautiful. It was moments like this that made him glad he had never given into his urges to truly break her. People would see them together, see the gold band on her finger, and know he was more than the ordinary man he seemed. He resented the easy way she moved through the world, but found it very useful. "Mink?" she asked. "Rented." He held it up for her. "Very nice," he said as he placed it around her shoulders. "You'll do." ##### In March, Danny considered his plan to seduce his mother as stalled. The hug from behind had started three weeks ago, and he'd come up with nothing new since then. What Danny most hoped to achieve next was a cuddle on the sofa. Unfortunately, he had grown too big for cuddling about six years before. If only he could find a way to get her to want to cuddle up to him. Towards this end, he proposed a movie night one Friday when Steve was out taking pictures. Christie offered to make the popcorn. Danny chose the movie, set it up, and settled on the sofa in the den. It was the only seat in the room, and he occupied the very center. He leaned back, arms stretched out to either side across the sofa's back, and waited for his mother to come in. It was a battle, but he kept the smug grin off his face. Christie came in with the popcorn and drinks. "Scoot over," she demanded. He did, as he expected to, but not all the way to the far end. Christie had enough room not to feel crowded, but they were close. She gave him the fish-eye but didn't demand that he move more. For Christie, it was a choice to make. She'd grown to love his lingering hugs and the near-miss kisses. The first time he had sneaked up behind her and put his arms around her, she was worried that Steve might see but not upset that he had done it. She wanted to lean back into him, she did every time it happened, but so far she had been able to stop herself. Enjoying the behavior didn't make it right. Now she thought she knew exactly what he was doing. He hoped she would curl up into him. Whether she would or not, she had to decide. "What did you choose?" she asked. "Your favorite. 'Ghandi'." "'Ghandi'?" she said in disbelief. "That's not my favorite movie. And it's like three hours." "Then why do you own it?" "It's inspiring, but I don't want to watch that tonight." "Good thing I was kidding. 'Hunger Games' it is. "That's better." They watched the entire movie without moving from their spots on the sofa, except to shift around now and then. They talked all through it since they had seen it before, and both enjoyed themselves. As soon 'The Hunger Games' finished, Danny proposed 'Catching Fire'. "It was a hard day in court," Christie began. "It's more fun with you here," Danny said, pleading. She also knew exactly what he was doing this time -- trying to wear her down until she was too tired to resist -- but she agreed anyway. Over the second movie, they spoke less often. After the first hour, Christie began to yawn. Danny watched her more than the movie, waiting. Finally, after another twenty minutes, her eyes closed and her head lowered. He waited a little longer and drew her to him. The movement roused her a little, but she came willingly, placing her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. Danny smiled. Mission accomplished. He kissed her hair, and she sighed. All was fine until the movie ended. Danny switched off the silent television with the remote but remained where he was, content to simply hold her. That was good, but Christie, falling from a doze into deeper sleep, no longer kept her hand on his chest. First it slipped to his ribs. Then his abdomen. Finally, it settled right on top of what was growing into a massive boner. He shifted; her hand shifted with him. He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the strands slide through his fingers like silk. He kissed her again in the same place as before. Then, for just a moment, he gave in to temptation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers and pressed down. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling, even if he could do no more, even if he was so hard it hurt. Reluctantly, he drew his hand away. Nothing could induce him to take further advantage of the situation. His mother would feel so betrayed if she woke and found them that way. It would damage their relationship for a long time. Somehow he knew she had to touch him in this way knowingly and willingly. His cock ached. He had to do something, so he said, "Mom." She woke with a start, her hand rubbing against him roughly, forcing him to bite back a groan. Christie blinked several times, looked around, and saw his erection under her hand. Her cheeks flamed. She looked up to see him biting his lip, and pulled herself away. "I think you'd better take that up to your room," she said quietly. "Yes, Mom." He rose. "Night, Mom," he said as he sped from the room. Later, he would wonder why he hadn't simply settled her down on the sofa and covered her with the afghan. Perhaps some part of him wanted her to see what she did to him. If she hadn't figured it out already, she certainly knew now. ##### By the time Steve's March trip came around, Danny had lost any embarrassment he felt over movie night. In fact the strategy had worked the next Friday night. Christie curled up against him but stayed awake the entire time. He didn't manage to get in any caresses, but it still satisfied him. March Madness was on, and Danny gave up his quest to get into his mother's pants in favor of basketball on the last Friday in March, even though Steve wasn't around. Although she supported him, basketball wasn't a big draw for her. Danny liked basketball, he liked to play it very much, but he didn't love it in the way necessary to become a pro. His mother understood this; his stepfather didn't. Christie joined him for a time, left, came back. She let him fix his own snack instead of offering him something, a sign she was preoccupied. He let her be for the evening while she worked on case notes for a trial beginning the next week. ##### Having had little interaction with his mother wasn't that unusual -- they had their own lives to live, work and homework, friends, chores -- but it was unusual on a Friday, whether Steve was camped out on a movie star's driveway or not. Danny went to bed restless, and stayed that way most of the night. He awoke unusually early, before even Christie was out of bed. Seized by an irresistible urge to be near her, he quietly went to her room. She never locked her door, so he opened it slowly and looked in. Christie lay curled up on her side. He tip-toed in to stand at the foot of the bed and look down on her. She was out, in the deepest part of sleep. The next step in his plan came to him in that moment. He moved around to the open side of the bed and gently pulled aside the blanket and slowly lowered himself down beside her. For a while he lay on his back, staring at the gauzy canopy she had over her bed. Her entire room was a tiny bit girlie, done in pinks and green. He looked at her outline in the darkness. It amused him that someone who could be so hard and ruthless in court could have a bedspread covered in little pink flowers. Feeling something very strong for her that moment, he couldn't help rolling over and holding her. She didn't wake. He relaxed now for the first time that night, and knew he was falling asleep. When he woke, he could possibly have a morning boner. He didn't care. She knew now; he wouldn't hide it any longer. ##### Christie awoke at her usual time, 5:15 a.m., to feel a presence beside her. Steve, dammit. Once they could afford a house with separate bedrooms, he had insisted on them. Intimacy made him very uncomfortable, and lying beside her every night made him irritable and restless. The only time he slept beside her was when he was so tired and sated from sex that he fell asleep in her bed. Wait. He was on one of his photography jaunts. He was probably at this moment sleeping in his rental car outside the governor's residence. It had to be Danny beside her. He had his arm around her middle and his cheek against the back of her head. Christie knew she should be outraged that he had invaded the privacy of her bedroom. This was the one place in the house that was completely hers. What she felt was contentment. Being held was nice, comfortable. She shifted her arm so that she could place her hand over his where it lay below her breasts. She wondered what had induced him to take this extreme step, but didn't really care. When it happened, all the inappropriate things Danny did felt too good for her to fight hard. It was only later that she looked at her behavior and felt shame. That morning, she relaxed back into him and dozed. ##### An hour later she woke again, Danny still beside her, spooning from behind. She rolled toward him. "Hey," she said. He responded by clutching her tighter. "Hey," she said a little louder. He slowly opened his eyes, looked at her sleepily, and smiled. She kissed his cheek. "Morning," he said. Until that moment, hearing it in the dusky light, she hadn't realized how deep his voice had become. It gave her a pleasurable shiver. "Young man, this is highly inappropriate." "What do you want me to do?" he asked, still smiling a little. "You didn't jump up screaming." "I never scream at you. I reason with you." He grinned. "What is the reason you didn't jump up screaming?" "I thought you were Steve at first." He frowned now. "Oh." "I'm glad you're not, but you have to get up and go." "Why haven't you jumped up and gone?" he asked. She blushed, which she hoped he didn't see in the dim morning light, and pulled away. "I am now. See? Go to your own bed. I'm going to swim." She went to her bathroom to pee, brush her teeth, and change into the suit hung over the towel rack. When she came out, he was still there, stretched out on his back. "Go on now," she hissed. "When you get like this with your mother electronic things and car keys tend to disappear." "Yes, Mom." He rose and went to the door, 6'5" of young male clad only in shorts and a t-shirt. "Love you, Mom." "Love you, too." And, God help her, she felt that love changing even as she spoke. ##### April. Over three months had passed and Danny saw his mother's response to him grow stronger. He didn't get many opportunities to sleep in her bed, but he had every night that last week in March when his stepfather was away. Each time, his mother stayed in bed a little later in the morning, delaying her swim as long as she could and still make it out the door on time. She also reacted differently during his long hugs, holding him tighter, sometimes not being the one to break the embrace first. She even was often the first one to kiss him on the cheek before they separated. And yet, they never spoke about it. Not once. ###### The day finally came that Christie had anticipated and dreaded at the same time. Danny came in from school to greet her while she watered plants with a big watering can. She tilted her head, cheek presented for a kiss, but of course he pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, hugging him back. Danny held her for a minute, then placed his hand on the nape of her neck to tilt her face toward him. He kissed her on the lips for the first time. Not a quick peck, not passionate and full of tongue, just a sweet kiss, mouth open very slightly, that lasted a moment or two. In the last few seconds she kissed him back. Danny pulled away and she stood there for a second, eyes closed, until the world came crashing back around her. The watering can fell from her grasp. Water sloshed out onto the floor. She ran for her bedroom, plants temporarily forgotten. Danny had crossed a line, she thought. He'd crossed a line and she had stepped over it right along with him. She couldn't explain it. Holding each other in bed with his erection pressed against her stomach would seem much more inappropriate but, for her, kissing was the place where taboo turned into wrong. Christie craved kisses. The thought of passionate kissing aroused her to a state of incoherent need. In those last few seconds she had been ready to abandon everything she had ever been taught about right and wrong. Even now, she didn't know how she could face him without melting into a puddle of pussy juice. But there was a dinner to make and a husband to keep happy, and she had things to do. The floor would need a mop. She never shirked from her responsibilities, she wouldn't now. On the way back to her hobby room, she wondered if Danny realized how thoroughly he had just seduced her. ##### Around bedtime, Christie went to Danny's room. He sat at his desk, doing homework and keeping an eye on the latest occupant of the bird cage. "Another bird?" she asked in disbelief. "Yup," he said without looking up. "What is it this time?" "I thought it was a baby crow at first, but it's one of those blackbirds we get." "You ever think of becoming a vet?" "Nope. I want to be a human doctor," he said and turned back to his calculus homework. "I hate this problem. I've been working on it for an hour." They kept a strained silence for a moment. She filled it by saying, "In a city this size, I don't know how you keep finding injured wildlife." "I don't. The Finkles down the street have lots of cats. The kids saw me picking up a bird one of them caught, and now they bring them to me." "I never knew." "I didn't want you-know-who to find out." "I wouldn't have told him." "I know." Christie couldn't stand it anymore. She walked to the door, peeked out to make sure Steve wasn't in sight, and shut it. With her arms folded, she leaned against the wall by the desk. "Why, Danny?" she asked softly. He dropped his pencil and turned to her. "He'll go ape-shit if we're in here with the door shut." "Then we'll have to talk fast. Why? You're a kind person. Why are you doing this to me?" "Why haven't you tried to stop me?" She had no answer. They stared at each other until she dropped her eyes. "It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked. "You like it." When she still didn't respond, he said, "You need a normal sex life. I can give you that." She couldn't help but laugh. "This is normal?" "I think that it's the closest thing you're going to get." From the hallway they heard, "Christie! What are you doing in there?" She stood up straight. "Quick!" she whispered. "Let the bird out of the cage." "What?" "Just do it." Danny did as he was told. The bird immediately took off flapping around the room. "Christie!" Steve shouted from outside the door. It flew open. "Shut the door!" they both yelled. Steve watched the bird swoop in his direction, and quickly shut the door before it escaped into the rest of the house. Photographs Ch. 04 "I do not want animals in my house," he said. "You said I could keep them if I only had one at a time and I kept them in my room." "That's why I shut the door," Christie quickly added. "It's my fault, really. I wanted to hold it." The blackbird landed on its uninjured leg at the top of a lampshade by the bed, pooped, and then allowed Danny to catch it. He cradled it to his chest and returned it to the cage. Steve glanced around the room and at the cage with a look of distaste. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I want this room cleaned by the time I get back. Christie, I need your help with something tonight," he said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Danny's fists clench. "Of course," she said. "I'll be right in." Photographs Ch. 05 Thursday morning I was up and in my workroom early, developing the prior night's film, preparing slides, printing big glossies of everything. As usual there was a lot of editing to be done and it was time-consuming but necessary. The videos required editing to make them a continuing story, cutting in views from one camera with those of another, etc. There was always work to be done to get ready. At 9:48, I answered the doorbell and admitted a 23 year-old brunette named Contessa. She had a slightly Continental look and I knew she had an Italian background. She was a very pretty woman with a quick smile that always set my heart to fluttering. This, her fourth visit to my studio, was no different. With a good wig, a different costume at the beginning, and different responses to the biography questions, the same magazines would continue to purchase layouts of her and even if they wouldn't, she would keep coming back occasionally just to fuck me, all because of my little golden fob and the power of suggestion. However in the porn industry there are always new rags coming out so there was never a shortage of places to send my work. The problem, most often, was keeping track of them. I couldn't make any of the women do something they didn't want to do but they all liked good sex and I simply convinced them that they were going to have good sex with me. After that, setting up the suggestions that insured that the sex was good for them was relatively easy. I didn't really make all those women cum that many times ... they did it themselves in their minds and then the bodies just acted out their roles perfectly. Contessa was no different in that respect. Since we had already done a number of scenarios with Contessa, I decided we would try a working man's approach. One of my newest layouts was a construction site, from all appearances, in a metropolitan setting. I had a small unfinished building cutout and what looked like a full range of power tools, stacks of lumber, and even a Port-o-John in one corner. Contessa started by dressing in a cut-off T-shirt, blue denim coveralls, and work boots, all of which looked well used. She tied a blue print do-rag around her hair to keep it back and "went to work," carrying a two-by-four on one shoulder while I got my preliminary shots. "How old are you?" I asked, after turning my recorder on. "I'm 23." "How tall are you?" "I'm five five." "What do you weigh?" She laughed. "Before one of my mama's special spaghetti dinners, about 127. Afterward ... well, who knows!" I made a series of shots of her in various poses with lumber or tools before she began working her way out of her clothes, first dropping one of the straps of the overalls which left the bottom of one tit uncovered. The second strap came down and I kept snapping. The bib dropped to her waist and lay there while she snaked out of the tiny T-shirt, revealing her stand-up hooters. After a lot of shots of how she "threw them into her work", Contessa worked the buttons on the sides of the overalls open, to reveal her bare abdomen when she sexily slithered out of the heavy work clothes. That left her in the heavy work shoes and a tiny pair of lacy white panties. "Are you married?" "No, I never have been." "Any special guy in your life?" "Oh, there are lots of special guys in my life but not one in particular." Contessa teased the camera as she wiggled out of the tiny panties and seemed to make love to the incomplete building. I got to the end of the fifth 60 frame strip and it seemed like I was just getting started. "So you play the field?" "Yes, I date different men if they strike my fancy." I was having a hard time working around my own hard-on. But I knew the best was yet to come. I kept the camera moving and Tessa's eyes remained on the lens fob. By then, I was focused on her pussy, while she helped my changing her leg positions and using her fingers to show the inner opening. "What is your idea of a good date?" "Well, I like a quiet romantic dinner somewhere, maybe a play or a movie, and then a night of hot sex." I had her change positions so that she was bent over and spreading her ass, giving me various angles, even including some finger action. "What constitutes a night of hot sex for you?" "Doing it all. I like to give and get oral, I like to screw in as many positions as possible and I like having all of my sensitive areas used." In just a few more minutes, I had everything I would need ... at least from the layout. Leaving our clothes where they were piled, we padded down to my bedroom area and climbed into bed. I used the remote to get the cameras started and then I began to explore Contessa ... for my sixth time. Tessa was a little bit unusual in that she had not one boyfriend but seven, of whom she counted me as one now. One of her boyfriends was unusually large, in circumference at least. He was large enough and fucked her often enough that none of the rest of us got much satisfaction fucking her pussy – there just wasn't much friction. However to compensate for that Tessa became an anal queen. Tessa loved to be ass fucked, although not by her larger boyfriend. Sometimes it required a little innovative clit manipulation but that was no real problem. She provided plenty of lubrication from her pussy so a few plunges into that cavern left me wet enough to ease my prong into her ass. Tessa lay on her side with my cock wandering in and out of her bowels while I held her top leg on my shoulder. Because she was so used to being fucked in the ass, it felt a lot more like pussy than any other woman I had fucked. The fun part of fucking Tessa in the back door in this position is that it left her pussy easily accessible. It didn't take long to get some good ideas of what to do with that big opening. I'd start with three fingers in her cunt just to get them wet, add my little finger for a few strokes and then curl my thumb in with the four fingers. With her juices freely flowing, my hand would be sloppy slick in no time. Just a little push and my whole hand was inside her. Now that was a trip, something I had never ever felt with any other woman: I could feel, with my hand, my cock sliding slowly in and out of Tessa's anus. It was the wildest thing I could think of sexually. I carefully let my hand rove in her love tunnel, touching a hard little bump that I figured was her cervix. Pulling back near the entrance, I turned my hand until my fingertips found the washboard area of her g-spot. It was a little awkward but I reached over with my left hand to rub the area around her mound and in just a few moments, Tessa was moaning and squirming and then shouting about cumming. When Tessa relaxed again, I eased my fist out of her pussy and she rolled over onto her stomach, keeping my cock in her ass. I moved up just a bit, straddling her, getting to the point where I could get most of my cock inside her anus, and then lay down on her, supporting my weight on my elbows but just grazing her soft lush body. While my cock pumped her bowels and I reveled in the magnificent feelings of my crotch pressing against her big round buttocks, I attacked her neck and upper back with kisses. I had been at that for several minutes when Tessa rolled to one side and pulled my empty hand over to hold her tit. She rolled to the other side and repeated the process, leaving me with two handfuls of fabulous tit flesh. I knew the cameras would have a hard time getting good pictures of the action but it felt so good I didn't care. We would get some good ones from the fist fuck sequence, I was sure. Still, I kept my legs spread as wide as I could under the circumstances and Tessa knew to do the same so we might salvage some footage of what we were capturing. But, if not, I surely was going to enjoy knocking off another piece of Tessa's ass. She was only about as tight as the typical pussy but with the added incentive of landing on her pillow-like globes with ever thrust, I felt my balls begin to quiver and a vacuum-like sensation told me I was past the point-of-no-return. I tried to tug my balls up into my body cavity, wanting to delay the final moments as long as possible; that worked for maybe all of three seconds and then I started spewing white hot cum into her intestines. I slid a hand down between her legs and nudged her clitoris and Tessa climaxed again. After we had rested a few minutes, Tessa jumped up and ran to get a washcloth, then cleaned me up carefully. By the time she had finished, my flaccid cock had begun to expand again and she helped it along by sucking my dong into her hot mouth. I found out later that she stared sexily at the camera while she was sucking me, which made for some great footage. When I was hard again, Tessa got up and straddled me, facing the same way. She sat on me, pushing her pussy down around my cock. She rocked around for several moments, getting me slick and wet again. Then she lifted her ass and carefully guided my spear into her anus again. She sat back down, then slowly lowered herself until she was laying on my chest. We both spread our legs wide and knew that at least two of the cameras had great shots of our connection. From that position, I had a great opportunity to feel up Tessa's tits and I couldn't pass that up. With her propping her feet on my thighs and me using her boobs for leverage, we got a nice little body slide going, so that her anal sphincter was moving up and down several inches of my penis. I had to keep blowing her hair out of my face but that was a small price to pay for the pleasure she gave me. When I felt Tessa's body begin to tense, I slid my hands down her sides until I could hold her crease open with one hand and tease her clit with the other. That was enough to bring on a huge explosion within her. I moved my hand a little further down and covered the opening to her pussy, feeling the flowing lava of her juices rolling out of her cunt and down my thigh. I went back to gripping her tits for leverage and moved her body up and down mine, working toward my own pleasure. Her ass felt so good around my shaft and she frequently squeezed her ring of muscle, making delicious feelings course throughout my body. I felt my balls contract, signaling the approach to my climax, so I pulled my cock out of Contessa's ass and pointed it up her body. With just a few strokes, I began to cum, shooting streams of hot pearly liquid up to her tits twice, then between her tits and landing down her face in a long string right down to my still spurting cock. The next several spurts landed on various parts of her body, leaving the sticky white goo everywhere. Contessa's reaction was one of glee and lust combined. She giggled when my cum landed on her face and licked at what she could readily reach but then her feet began to propel her along my form. I decided she was in need of a little help so I moved my hand from my flaccid cock to her clit, rubbing my thumb around her swollen nubbin. Just a few strokes got her to the edge of the cliff and she jump off into the abyss, screaming that she was cumming. When I checked the videos later, I knew we had an uncommonly good one – or two – to sell to the right buyers. End of Ch 05 Photographs Ch. 05 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. The next day was Friday. Steve left for Miami. It was also the start of spring break for Danny, and Christie had decided to take the week off to be with him. After searching the house for bugs when they got home from work and school, they celebrated by going to dinner at a burger place Steve hated and then to a popular movie he wouldn't have enjoyed. They laughed when Danny imitated Steve: "I do not see the appeal of blowing up valuable property." Steve hated action movies but loved 'Fight Club'. They laughed about that, but it was hollow. Steve loved raw violence too much. "I think," Christie said as they sat in the breakfast nook and ate Rocky Road ice cream, "that I must be immature." "Why?" "Because I think an eighteen-year-old boy is my best friend." He licked at his spoon. "My best friend used to be Artie Knutzen." "He isn't any more, is he?" "Nope. Caught him having sex with Meghan at that Halloween party last year." Christie blinked and put down her spoon. "Oh, Danny. I'm so sorry. That's why you broke up with her. You refused to tell me." "Yup, but that's not the worst part." He took a big spoonful. After swallowing he said, "She told me all along she didn't want to have sex with me because she was under eighteen and it was illegal." "Can I be frank?" He looked at her warily. "Um, sure?" "I always thought she treated you like shit, but I didn't say anything because you seemed happy. I thought you broke up with her because you finally got wise." "She did treat me like shit," he agreed. "We'd go to parties or dances, and she'd say she needed to talk girl-talk with her friends. So she'd go off and leave me wondering what to do with myself. I was so happy to be dating the most popular girl in school, I ignored it. Then I got wise the hard way." He scraped his bowl and licked the spoon. "And... there's more." "Worse than sleeping with your best friend?" "Uh huh. She had daddy issues. Is there more ice cream?" "Help yourself. What Daddy issues?" He rose and went to the freezer, bringing the carton back with him. "Her dad kind of ignored her. She really tried to find ways to get him to notice her, like dating one of the only black kids in school." "Danny..." she said softly. She reached out and touched his hand. He shrugged. "I go to a lily-white school. It's something I have to live with, Mom. I can get all furious and outraged, which I do now and then, or I can find ways to show how I'm better than they are. I'm the best basketball player the school has ever had. I have straight A's, and I'm going to be a doctor." "You are without doubt the most even-tempered person I've ever met. If you weren't such a slob and didn't eat like a horse, you'd be the perfect kid." And then there's that issue of trying to seduce his mother, she thought. He was so calm and easy-going most of the time, she might have overlooked some hidden depths. "You know," he said with a sly grin, "I'm feeling awful vulnerable right now. Can I sleep with you?" She gave him a playful slap on the arm. "No." ##### On Saturday morning, Christie woke to find herself wrapped in the warm presence of her son. Even with her eyes closed, she knew it had to be him. Steve, on those rare occasions when he fell asleep in her bed, usually lay sprawled on his back, taking up his entire side of the bed and part of hers. He was not a cuddler and wouldn't understand affection even if presented with three highlighted psychology textbooks and a puppy. Danny's arms enclosed her a little tighter and he buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply and let it out with a sigh, warm breath on the back of her neck. Strong arms around her. "You sneaked in again," Christie said. "It's not like you locked me out." "In case you didn't notice, there is no lock." "Why is that? Don't all master bedrooms have locks?" It should have been a bad memory, but for some reason, here in Danny's arms, it couldn't reach her. "The first time your father hit me I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in. I was crouched on the floor, he was screaming and pounding on the door. It woke you, you were almost three at the time, and you started screaming, too. I wanted to go to you, but I was so afraid. Not one of my better moments." He squeezed her and placed a kiss on her shoulder. "I seem to have survived. What happened?" "He broke the door down. Then he got that spooky calm he has and explained to me that some things in our arrangement were not negotiable. The way he chose to have sex was one of them." "Arrangement?" The pain drew closer, threatening to pierce this bubble of contentment they lay in. "Not now, Danny. I feel good right now." "Then explain about the doors." "The next day I came home from school to find the bathroom door replaced, and all the interior knobs in the entire apartment replaced with ones without locks." He kissed her again, this time in that sensitive spot at the base of her neck, and she shivered with pleasure. It felt good, she couldn't deny it any longer. It felt good when he touched her and it turned her on. Christie knew she should put the brakes on right then, but decided to let him for just a few more minutes. He burrowed his face in her hair and kissed her throat. A little gasp of pleasure escaped her, and she could feel him chuckle silently. His lips traveled up her jaw to the corner of her mouth, and Christie turned to meet him, her lips on his in a searing kiss. Her legs twined with his. "Why do you want this? Isn't there some girl your age?" "There is no girl I ever met, or ever will meet, who is as beautiful and sexy as you. I've wanted you for years." "You certainly know how to talk to a woman, that's for sure." She pressed her lips against his again, just because he flattered and pleased her, and in spite of the fact that she suspect he was coaxing her to go further. "Flatterer," she said. Gradually, as they kissed deeper and longer, she shifted her body until she was facing him. Her mind and her conscience kept up a litany of stop now, just a little longer, stop now, just a little longer, until it was buried under the onslaught of sensation. His hands roaming her back over her camisole, and further down to caress her butt. The hardness of his erection against her stomach, and the satin smooth texture of his skin under her hands when she slipped them under his t-shirt. Soon her hand pushed down his boxers in back as she ran her hands over the firm muscles of his ass. Danny slid his hand under her camisole, drawing it closer to her side, and then her breast. He was cupped it, kneading it gently. When he pinched her nipple, Christie gasped and lost what remained of her reason. There was no other excuse for what she did next. She had to feel his cock. She pulled his boxers down and grasped it firmly. Danny groaned. Big and hard, and warm to the touch, it jerked in her hand when she stroked it from base to tip. "I'll come if you keep that up. I'm so turned on, it won't take much." "Hmmm." They were still kissing, and her happy sigh purred into his mouth. She opened her eyes and looked at his face. "Come for me, Danny. I want to see your face when you come." Watching a man come was the most erotic thing Christie could think of. She loved the expression on their faces, lost in some ecstasy world that only they could see. Their bodies taut and shuddering, right before cum spurted out. She loved the power it gave her to make it happen. His eyes opened, too, but soon they closed to slits, and then completely as she stroked him nearer and nearer to orgasm. He would twitch and gasp, until she was stroking him hard and fast and his gasps turned into moans. Christie herself was so turned on she threw her leg over his and pushed her pelvis into him. Danny's hand on her breast moved to her pussy, but soon began to falter, his body shuddering, and then he was coming, his cum pulsing onto their stomachs. Christie continued to stroke until Danny protested that it was too much. She sighed and closed her eyes, reliving the moment, etching it in her memory. Unfortunately, a thing that turned her on so effectively only happened when the sex was all over for the man. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her, smiling contentedly. Her own smile was a little coy as she scraped her hand over his stomach, brought it to her mouth, and licked cum from the space between her thumb and forefinger. Danny watched this with rapt fascination. "You like the taste of cum?" His voice was rough. "It's not the taste. It's the fact that I'm licking up your cum." He laughed and pulled her closer. Christie snuggled into her son's chest, but panic flooded her. What have I just done? ##### Danny dozed for a few minutes and woke to the sound of the shower running, the bed empty beside him. He waited, comfortable and content, hoping to get a glimpse of his mother naked when she left the bathroom, but she emerged a few minutes later fully dressed. She had brought her clothing with her into the bathroom, and he could guess what that meant. He had fallen asleep with his boxers down around his thighs in the middle of a puddle of cum. He wanted a shower himself. First pulling up his boxers, he rose to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll help you change the sheets," he offered. "Dolores will be here soon and she shouldn't find cum on them." Christie and Danny did the everyday tidying up, but she had a maid who came in once a week to do the heavier scrubbing and cleaning. "That would be nice," she said. "Good morning." "Morning." He watched her with dread blossoming in his gut, then blurted out, "This is where you tell me what we did was wrong and we'll never do it again, and please leave you alone from now on. Right?" Christie reached for a bottle of perfume from her vanity table. "This is where I tell you that I'm highly conflicted about what we did, and please leave me alone for a little while to think." "So you're not saying never?" Hope returned and he sat up straighter. "I'm saying what we did is illegal. I'm saying I'm living with a sociopath who watches my every move, who bugs my home, and who would probably kill you if he found out. You're my son, and although I'll freely admit I find you highly desirable, and I enjoy the attention, I feel like I'm taking advantage of your youth and teenage male horniness. Mostly, though," she walked over and sat down beside him, "I don't want to ruin the best thing in my whole life." "It will make it even better." He raised his arm to put it around her. "No, Danny." She shied away, rising from the bed, and in that instant revealed how truly conflicted she really was. "Please let me be. I feel awful and I need some time." "I don't feel awful, or at least I didn't when I woke up. It felt like I had something special all to myself and I wanted to hold it close and never let go." She just looked at him, her mouth tight and her expression pained. "If I say 'no more', what will that do to you? Would you even honor my wishes?" He thought about it for a moment, about giving up the hope of sex with her, the touches, that feeling of specialness. He would feel like a fool for having tried, and a failure for not succeeding. Danny never liked to give up, he hated it more than failure, but he recognized that to keep trying to seduce her when she truly did not want it would ruin their relationship and that would be far worse. He would become his stepfather, pushing Christie out of obsession, taking what he wanted from her with no regard for her needs. But with the way she responded to him... "I know you like it, Mom, but if you really couldn't go further, I would respect that." Her shoulders relaxed, and he realized he had been her first consideration. Not her own desires or needs, but what her son wanted and how to keep him happy while doing what she felt was right. He stood and headed for his own shower, but paused at the door. "Some day, Mom, you are going to learn that what you really want matters, too." ##### One by one, Christie slid closed the drapes in the large hobby room, covering each wall of glass that looked out onto the back lawn and the pool. What am I doing? This is crazy. Danny might come to her. That was all she could think of. It didn't matter that there was a wall, shrubbery, and immense trees on every side, and even the nosiest neighbor with glasses probably couldn't see anything. That little possibility made her shutter the room tight against prying eyes, because Danny might come to her, and who knew what could happen. Even Christie wasn't certain what she wanted to happen, but she knew that this morning ignited a flame that no amount of logic and self-recrimination could douse. She paused what she was doing, the edge of a drape clutched in her hand as she forced herself to admit the truth. Stroking him off had been coming for months, and she had waited for it with anticipation. Every time he sat too close and let her cuddle up to him, she had made the choice to let him. The hugs, the extra kisses on the cheek, even the long looks he hadn't thought she'd noticed, all excited her both sexually and on some deeper level that was desperately needy. And now she was watching him in return, seeing the strong, beautiful, attractive young man he had become. No, Danny wasn't male model perfect, but his face had a warm openness, his features a pleasing combination of Irish and African. Looking at his athletic body gave her electric twinges that ran from her clit to her nipples. When he touched her that electric heat flooded her entire body, making her dangerously aroused. And she liked it. Steve never made her feel these things, and she wanted and needed to feel something good with a man like she needed to breathe. Christie finished closing the drapes and went to the entertainment center. Yoga, pilates, weight-lifting, aerobics, she had tapes for everything to work out her body evenly, but mostly she danced. As a girl, Christie took dance lessons from age three until her pregnancy at fifteen forced her give them up, but she had never stopped dancing. The radio, exercise videos, night clubs and swing clubs, she danced with them all. Surprisingly, Steve also liked to dance, and they had taken swing and Latin dancing lessons together. Early in their marriage, it gave her hope. She accepted him as a partner because to not dance would be to let a part of herself die. Danny could dance, as well, and showed a talent and enthusiasm. But this afternoon she hoped to avoid him. He was at a weekend basketball practice, a perfect time for her to exercise her most sensuous dance moves without enticing her son into doing something they would both regret. Or she would regret. She was beginning to doubt Danny ever would. She had dressed in black -- a leotard, tights, a sheer little skirt that hid nothing, and high-heeled dance shoes. It was sexy, but not overly revealing like the midriff-baring crop tops or the mini-skirts would be. Choosing a Latin dance CD, she spun out onto the floor for some free dancing, a slower rumba to warm up. A samba came on, then jive and salsa. The disc she'd prepared cycled around to a tango, and she started to really wish she had a partner. She could move to any beat, but the tango was a dance that was meant to be shared. Then hands were on her. She shivered. Danny or Steve home days early? But she knew his touch, dammit, already. His hands caressed her waist in a slow way that probably had much to do with his hesitancy but achieved a sensual slide along the fabric of her clothing. Steve would have grabbed her and spun her around so that she was forced to face him, demanding, possessing. And his smell was the same earthy body wash and shampoo he had used since junior high school. A faint hint of sandalwood and spice. It had been too mature when he first insisted upon using it, but now it fit him. "You didn't have practice," she said. Feet still moving, she turned and gathered one of his hands into hers. Her own shook, but she couldn't stop herself. "I forgot it was canceled." "Do you remember the tango? We haven't danced that in a while." "We need to fix that." His palm in hers was cool and dry, his other hand firm now on her waist. The music came to a place where she had taught him to dip her, and he did so in one smooth move, her left leg automatically rising, forcing her pelvis against his for a few seconds. For that moment, briefly, it seemed right and natural. They separated, turning side by side, his arm around her, her hip brushing his. The dance progressed, moving them apart and then together again. An erotic tease. Thighs touching, hands sliding along arms and shoulders. Each time they drew together, Danny pulled her a little closer. Each time his arm encircled her waist, his hand crept a little lower on her hip, until the heel of his palm rested on her ass, fingers spread. When the time came in the dance, she pressed against him in the same way. The music ended with them face to face, foreheads touching, mouths millimeters apart. His warm breath caressed her face. The disc had no other tracks; the room fell into silence. Christie's hand rested against the center of Danny's chest. She could feel his heart hammering inside it, like her own heart did in hers, far more than from the exertion of the dance. Exhilaration warred with panic as she wondered what she would do if he kissed her right now. Let him? Break away? She couldn't move and the moment became Danny's to do with as he chose. He kissed her. And she let him. Softly at first, not like the demanding kisses of the morning. His lips brushed hers, parting slightly. Then his tongue licked at her upper lip. She opened her lips to let him in, and met the tip of his tongue with her own. Their tongues danced for a moment and then dove deeper. Danny's hands spread over her back and ass; Christie's hands clutched at his shoulders but slid into his thick hair as he pulled her closer, tighter, his erection a hard ridge against her abdomen. Weak with passion, her breasts and clit inflamed, she clung to him as the kiss deepened. Danny broke the kiss with a soft gasp to move his lips to her jaw and then the side of her neck. She had no idea he could kiss like this. Where had the boy learned it? That thought brought her back to reality. This was her son. Obviously a sensual young man, but still her son. With reluctance, she pushed him away to arm's length. "Danny--" "You want it," he said. "I know you do." He was looking at the floor, rather than at her. It was a determined look he finally gave her. Not angry, not embarrassed or humiliated. Determined. Intense. "You want it." Christie separated from him, backing away. "No. I can't. I--" She turned and ran for the doorway, her steps light as a nymph's as she ascended the three steps. At the top she paused and turned toward him enough to only show him her profile but not enough to meet his eyes. "Don't come to my room tonight, Danny," she said before leaving the room. Danny wasn't about to let this go. He took off after her, the squeak of his basketball shoes loud in the quiet room. He bounded up the steps and caught up with his mother seconds later in the hallway outside. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun her and firmly but gently pinned her to the wall. "You want this," he said again. Photographs Ch. 05 Seeing how wide her eyes grew, and thinking of the ways his father forced himself on her, he eased up, placing his palms on the wall to either side of her and trapping her with his body rather than pinning her. She could get away if she tried -- he would let her -- but he didn't think she would. And she didn't, even when he leaned in and claimed her lips again. She wore a tormented expression when she said, "You're my son." "I get it," he said, and kissed her more. She returned his kisses with equal passion, but neither of them touched the other in any other way. His hands remained to either side of her; her palms pressed flat against the wall. His arousal grew too painful, and he finally broke away because he wasn't sure he could stop himself from going too far and forcing himself on her if they went on any longer. "This would be good for us, Mom. For me because I love and want you so much it hurts, and for you because you need it so very badly." "I need..." She raised her hands to her temples. "I need to think," she said and ducked under his arm to run for her room. Danny let her go, but there was nothing that could induce him to give up. She was very close. Maybe even tonight. Photographs Ch. 06 Thursday evening, Gia came up to the studio to check on her kids, who had come up to use the playground equipment late that afternoon. I had been working on developing and printing more shots from the latest photo shoots I had done. I made dinner for the whole group and we ate like a family, each person sharing stories of our day. After the kids went back to play, Gia and I went to my bed for a quick round of hide-the-sausage. After we were both sated, we lay talking and Gia surprised me by asking if she could watch or help with one of the photo shoots sometime. Since she worked four 10-hour days and then had Fridays off along with the weekend, I told her of my schedule for the next day and invited her to participate. If she was going to help, I decided to enlist her help with one of the least fun chores: loading canisters of unexposed film. They had to be all laid out in advance, then the cutting and loading into 60 frame strips is done completely in the dark. I showed Gia, by feel, how to count the frames and cut the film and then wind it into the reusable cannisters that could just be popped into my cameras. I guess it didn't hurt either of us that some of the "feels" turned into gropes and giggles while I developed a raging hard-on. After we had loaded the last cannisters, Gia took my hand and pulled me around behind her. She bent over the counter and pulled me behind to her in a wordless invitation to fuck her sweet soft pussy. I fondled her tits and teased her clit until we both came. Delighted, Gia kissed me, dressed and then herded her clan down to their apartment. The rest of Thursday evening and Friday morning I spent in my work room touching up shots from various shoots of that week. It takes an amazing amount of time to scan every photo with a jeweler's glass to spot detracting blemishes in a shot and then make whatever corrections are necessary. Some turn out to be just minor issues, some require extensive changes and then some photos just simply cannot be salvaged. Every professional photographer makes some pictures that he can never use. It is a hazard of the profession, especially when working with a human subject. You are snapping the pictures so quickly and the model is working to change poses and looks so that sometimes the two are not coordinated. However there are a lot fewer discards in my line of work than in, say, high fashion modeling. In my line, even most bad shots contain some good salvageable subject matter so that cropping becomes the critical issue. I never actually destroy my discards until I've exhausted all possibilities, because if not acceptable on the first pass, there may be parts that fit other uses than what I was first intending. There are always uses for composite pictures of female body parts. I took a short break for lunch and then went back to work and was just putting the finishing touches on three mailings when the buzzer rang. Since my appointment was for a brand new model, I hurried down the stairs and greeted my latest model. Gia was standing with her, waiting to come in at the same time. The model was another mature woman named Diana. Most of my models are younger than Diana but she had been referred to me by Big Boobs Magazine and I could readily see why. She didn't look like 54 – maybe 44 – but she had a very large set of hooters. According to the information sent to me by the rag, she had a 48FF-34-44 figure; when she brushed by me at the bottom of the stairway, even after turning sideways, I knew why she had been referred to me. After I introduced myself, I escorted her upstairs and gave her the 50 cent tour of the studio so she could see the layout; meanwhile Gia followed along quietly. I fell in lust with Diana almost immediately, partly because of her very curvy figure, which she showed off nicely in a tight skirt and blouse that hugged her curves, and partly because of her soft southern drawl that made her seem very warm and easy to get to know. After looking at the various layouts, she asked about the things she could see at the other end of the floor so I took her down to my quarters. The magazine had requested that we do a customized shoot showing Diana in a Dairy Queen setting. After seeing her big boobs, I knew what the connection was – milk. I had already put together a mock soft serve ice cream dispenser from a cardboard box, gray paper, and some screwdrivers covered to look like handles. Some of the other accoutrements of the establishment had been painted onto the inexpensive backdrops that I used – it is amazing how an airbrush can be used to make a flat surface look like whatever you want! I talked to Diana about what I wanted her to do and how we would proceed. Her present clothes would be just fine for a start, with the addition of a full white apron. I talked about how I'd like her to move around the set, giving me different looks, all the while keeping her eyes on the little gold fob hanging from my camera – I explained that the fob was to give her a focal point for her gaze so that it would appear that she was looking into the camera – or the eyes of the readers. We got started. "What is your name?" "Diana." "Do you mind if I ask your age?" "No, I am 54. "I think you look much younger. What is your height?" "I'm five feet six inches." "What are your measurements?" "I am 48 at the top, 34 at the waist and 44 around the bottom." "Wow! I think those are impressive numbers. What cup size do you wear?" "Ah. This is an FF. Do you think they are too large?" "Absolutely not! I like them big. So do many men." She giggled. "Yes, I get a lot of lusty looks." Since she was not used to being a model, especially a nude one, it took a little while for Diana to get the hang of what I needed from her so I wound up wasting some film on her but she was such a sweet woman I couldn't get angry at her. Thus it took a little longer for me to get her into a hypnotic trance. But it did work and the post-hypnotic suggestions helped her relax; to remember to smile and look into the eye of the camera, and then began sensually and seductively removing her clothes. "Do you enjoy sex?" "Of course. I can't understand why everyone doesn't." "Do you have a favorite activity?" "No, I don't think so. I like it all with the right partner." Of course we started by working the bib of the apron off her neck and teasingly lowering it. In time she discarded it completely and began working the buttons of her blouse open. As more and more of her luscious globes came into view, I felt my own arousal growing and knew that the readers would feel the same way. By the time she had the buttons open and was pulling the tail of her blouse out of her waistband, I was ready to attack her almost. I couldn't ever remember knowingly wanting a woman of her age so much! Diana was wearing a very lacy peach colored bra that made it look as if she was carrying two cantaloupes on her chest. However the lacy material couldn't hide the bulges of her erect nipples nor the fact that they were a deep crimson color. "Do you like oral sex?" "Certainly. I love to watch the look on his face when I make him cum." Since she was very new to the business, I frequently left my camera with Gia, instructing her on how to center the lens on the subject, and went over to the layout to show Diana what I wanted from her in the way of a pose. I took the hands-on approach, stepping behind her and using my hands to adjust her hips or turn her shoulders or face this way and that. I took every opportunity to touch her big breasts or her round bottom as we worked. Diana just kept smiling and let me move her as I wanted. Several times she commented about the bulge in my pants and how she thought I might need some help with it. Eventually Diana teased the readers as she lowered her bra, opened it up and let her huge knockers flow out. Just the sight of those creamy white mountains made the palms of my hands itch with desire. I kept going back and forth to her, filling my hands with soft spongy tit flesh as I "positioned" her – unnecessarily. As soon as I turned to get some three-quarter shots though, I spotted a problem. The back strap of the bra had left unsightly red marks where the weight had pulled on her back. No biggie – it was a common problem among women with large breasts. I pulled my make-up case down from near to the playground set, found a foundation make-up that matched her nicely tanned color and proceeded to obliterate the red marks with make-up, starting with her back and ultimately working around to her front and making sure – more than sure – that all the marks were gone before we resumed, or at least blended into her normal coloring. I even gave her big nipples a little suck for good measure. Ah, I loved the power of PHS. "Do you ever tit fuck your partner?" "Of course. That is one of the very best things about having such large boobies." "What do you do when he gets ready to cum?" "I sometimes catch it in my mouth but I like it when he sprays that warm liquid on my face or my breasts. It feels very good." Diana worked her way down to complete nudity, displaying her baby's butt bare vagina and her nice big round ass. Gia, still under the spell of my original hypnotic suggestions, disrobed at the same pace as Diana, until they were both nude. Neither of them even seemed to notice as I took off my clothes and made it a naked trio. I got Diana onto a counter-top and drizzled banana split toppings all over her body, including long strings of chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, crushed pineapple, chopped pecans and topped it all off with whipped cream from a spray can. A simple suggestion sent Gia over to begin licking the sweets from Diana's body. I circled the women and finished a roll of 60 shots rather quickly. Then, leaving the action to the video cameras, I joined Gia in licking Diana's body clean. I first concentrated on her left tittie while Gia cleaned her right, then I slid down between her legs and lapped up the sweets from her own sweet area. There was no doubt in my mind that nobody could have faked the explosive orgasms Diana had while we cleaned her body up. When next I moved between Diana's legs and slipped my cock into her slick pussy, it seemed strange having another person watching but Gia seemed mesmerized by all the action and I knew it wouldn't hurt our videos to have her in the picture. At various times, Gia guided my cock into Diana when I changed positions, fondled my balls, or kissed Diana's tits and mouth. I didn't know if Diana had any experience with another woman but Gia had told me that she didn't. However that didn't stop her from participating or later from enjoying her own orgasms when Diana ate her pussy or when I fucked her too. I found it very erotic to have two women playing with each other while I used one sweet pussy or the other. When we finally wound down, Gia dressed and excused herself to go down to her apartment. However Diana said that she was just too tired to go home and asked if she could spend the night with me. Sure, like I'd ever kick her out of my bed! She cradled my head between her two fantastic chest pillows and we drifted off to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, I got up to take a leak. When I came back to bed, Diana was laying on her side asleep, I thought. However when I gingerly climbed back into bed and snuggle spoon-fashion behind her, she lifted one leg, offering a nice warm wet place for my latest erection. It was so nice to screw her pussy very, very slowly while massaging her boobs as we lay cheek to cheek. It was probably three-quarters of an hour later before I drifted off to sleep to the feeling of my slowing deflating member sliding out of her cunt. End of Ch 06 Photographs Ch. 06 Note to readers: I've had a lot of comments to please finish this story. Thank you very much! I want you to know that the story is complete and I will be publishing a chapter a day until all thirteen are posted. DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. Christie showered as soon as she reached her bedroom. Her lips still tingled from Danny's kisses, and she ended up leaning against the shower wall, fingering herself. Although she came quickly, it only made her feel better for a moment. Masturbating while thinking of her son was becoming a bad habit. She needed a lover, desperately, someone to distract her from this growing obsession. The problem was, she could think of no man she knew that she desired more than she wanted Danny right that moment. She still leaned against the shower wall, hot water cascading down her back, and she could taste his mouth, minty and sweet. Now thoroughly disgusted with herself, she scrubbed violently at her scalp, quickly rinsed, and toweled dry before returning to the bedroom to try to find a distraction. She flipped through the channels on the TV, picked up and discarded a romance novel, and finally just lay down on her back, naked on the bed, and stared at the canopy. Swimming might work. The rhythm of the strokes, the sensory deprivation of having her head under water, would usually lull her into a semi-trance, where thoughts were meditative and only her body movements held her notice. Afterward, she would be limp and exhausted. Sleep would come and she wouldn't have to think. But swimming required leaving her room and, moreover, Steve had hit her two nights before. If she wore a bathing suit, Danny would see the marks on her back and thighs. It was this thought that finally brought her to tears. She curled up in a ball on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, and gave in to painful, wracking sobs. Weak. I am so weak. Christie cried for a long time. Every time her tears slackened she would think about the futility of her life -- the impossibility of escaping both her husband or her desire for her own son -- and they would break out anew. Finally, her body could take no more and she fell asleep, exhausted and spent, still in a fetal position. ###### Christie never came down from her room for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Danny tip-toed from room to room, listening for her footsteps or the sound of her door opening. The determination from earlier in the day waned as he thought more and more about his mother's obvious distress. He created this situation, he needed a way to bring her to him without the anxiety it now caused her. He thought this without shame, because all along it had been his desire and intention to make his mother happy. All right, he also wanted to get laid by a beautiful woman, he admitted to himself, but he wasn't about to throw himself at anyone else. She wanted a lover, he knew it in the same place that he knew the thrill she felt while dancing and the secure confidence she displayed in the courtroom. Danny believed he would be a safe choice for her. Being with Danny would require no change in her routines, no clandestine meetings. With Steve gone so much, there would be plenty of opportunity. Beyond these practical considerations, though, was the tight bond they shared. Danny and Christie were simpatico. At six he made himself a dinner of leftover chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. It was supposed to be pizza night, he and his mom making homemade pizza together. He looked at the pizza fixings for a moment, wanting a slice of pepperoni, but decided to save it. They would have pizza night, because he was going to fix this. Danny brought his food into the den, placed it on the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa. When he pressed the remote, the TV came on to a movie about two people who hated each other, but were in love with their secret pen-pals, who turned out to be each other. Not his type of flick, but his mother had been watching it and he wanted to know what kind of romance worked for her. It was funny, but what captured his interest was the things the two people said to each other in their emails. They were open, free to say what was in their hearts without censure, because it was all anonymous. Danny realized that until now he had been using sex to seduce his mother, probably because he was as horny as any teenage boy and that was where his head was at. She responded to the touches, the kisses, but probably not entirely for the reasons they worked for Danny. Given the way his father treated her, he had imagined she was sexually frustrated and needed to be stroked and coaxed gently. She clearly responded on that level, but her deeper problem, he realized now, was loneliness for a tenderness of a different kind. He remembered Romantic Interludes. Although he imagined his father might have sex with her that didn't involve brutality, he knew without a doubt that what his mother needed was simply love that Steve could never give her. And trust. And companionship. Shit. He was an idiot to have seen it at the beginning and then utterly forgotten it in his horniness. Moreover, he was hurting her rather than building her up. Danny turned off the TV and lay back on the sofa, his forearm over his eyes. Shit shit shit! He had turned into as big a monster as his dad. The current situation required talking. He would tell her all that was in his heart, simply and honestly. If he had the courage. First, though, he would bring her dinner. She hadn't been down all afternoon and into the evening. She must be hungry. ###### When Christie awoke it was dusk. Dim light filtered through cracks in the curtains, and the room was in shadows. She rose to use the bathroom, wash her face, and brush her teeth. First grabbing a robe to ward off the springtime chill in the house, she went back to sit on the edge of the bed. She was calm enough now to sit and watch a movie, something distracting with men in spandex blowing things up. She had "The Dark Knight" and the Spiderman movie with Toby McGuire in the bedroom, so she put Batman on and settled back onto the bed. Even with her nap, she was worn out and had trouble concentrating on the movie, often hitting the back button to review her favorite scenes because she had missed them the first time. Several hours later she was ravenous, but didn't want to go downstairs. Maybe later when she was certain Danny was asleep, she thought and then castigated herself for being a coward. With that thought she rose, deciding not to be to afraid to have dinner when she was hungry in her own home, and was about to find clothes when there was a knock on the door. "What?" she said a tad sullenly. "Mom? Can I come in?" Christie had to think about that. She needed to talk to him, needed to face him, but she wasn't certain she was any mental or physical state to do so. "Mom?" he asked again. "All right," she said. The knob jiggled for a few seconds. "Could you help, Mom? My hands are full." She opened the door to find him holding a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. "You've been in here for hours," he said. "I thought you might be hungry." In that moment, something slid into place in her heart. This was the Danny she loved, the one who anticipated her needs and unselfishly tried to fill them. The one whose thoughts were so much like hers, little needed to be said. The boy who had been trying to seduce her for the past four months was a stranger who was just enough like him that she fell for it anyway. "Come in," she said. She walked over to her vanity table and shoved aside perfume bottles and makeup to make room for the plate. "Have you eaten," she asked as she sat. "I ate the rest of the leftovers." She looked at the sandwich he had made. Ham and swiss on rye bread, fixed just the way she liked it. Two cookies. The Coke in a glass instead of the can. "You always paid attention to what I liked, didn't you, Danny?" she asked as she picked up a triangular half of sandwich and then bit off a corner. "I learned that from you," he said. "This is perfect." "No talking with your mouth full." "Sit," she said, pointing to a wing-back chair in the corner. "Drag over that chair." He did, and sat with his elbows on his knees. Silently they sat while she ate. Christie guessed he was waiting, just like she was, for one of them to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Danny spoke first. "I love you, Mom." "I love you, too, sweetie." "I mean..." He ran his hands through his hair and tried again. "I love you like a man loves a woman." She thought hard for a few moments about how to reply to that, because it sounded just like the silly thing an infatuated teenager would say to a much older woman he shouldn't be seducing. Sort of like their current situation. "Danny--" "Listen to me, please." He looked at her, making sure he had her full attention. "I've realized for a few years now that every girl I've met I was comparing to you, and they all came up short. I never felt as comfortable around them as I do you, and a couple of times I wanted just to go home and talk to you about how the date went rather than finishing the actual date, and that's sort of crazy." Christie just smiled a little and raised her eyebrows, but didn't interrupt. "I knew by sometime last year that you were what I wanted, but I probably never would have pursued it if I hadn't seen Dad beat you at Christmastime. After that, I paid closer attention, and I noticed what I hadn't seen before -- how sad and lonely you are. I mean, you act strong, and you are very strong. In court you're like a... a lioness stalking prey." He smiled at his metaphor. "And everybody better get out of your way. You run a business and manage Dad without him even knowing it. But when I paid closer attention, when you thought you weren't being looked at, that's when I saw how much it costs you. "You're lonely, Mom." Christie had long since given up on eating, but she took a sip of her Coke just to do something, because if she spoke she knew she couldn't lie and say she wasn't. "You won't tell me why, but I believe you when you say you can't leave him. And with the way he watches you, follows you around and spies on you, he would know if you had an affair. And God knows what that son-of-a-bitch would do." "I've thought about it. He would kill him. He wouldn't carry out his threats to me and my family, because if he did he'd lose me. What he wants more than anything, still after all these years, is to keep and control me. It gives me a power over him that I don't think he's aware of." "You're careful how you use it." "Yes." "So you're stuck," he said, getting back to the subject. "But Dad never has to worry about the time you spend with me. We're supposed to share a house and our time together. I can give you what you need, Mom. I can make you happy." She arched her brows again. "So this isn't about teenage horniness?" He flushed and looked away, smiling a little. "Maybe a little bit." "Maybe a lot?" she asked, returning his smile. "No, maybe some, but not all," he insisted. "If we start anything, it will change our relationship. If it isn't good, it will ruin the very best thing that has ever happened to me." "You want it, Mom." "You keep saying that." "Because it's true. You want the love, and the sex that I can give you. Male/female love, not mother/son love." It was true, but she wasn't ready to say the words out loud. "Not tonight, Danny. I'm over-emotional and tired, and if I come to you, I want it to be with joy." He nodded. "I understand. Can I sleep here?" She groaned. "You won't give up, will you?" "I promise I won't touch you." She snickered. "I promise," he said with a smile, holding up two fingers in a Boy Scout pledge, "that if I touch you it will be entirely by accident or in a platonic way appropriate for mother and son. Okay?" She held out a cookie. "Help me finish this before we go to bed." Photographs Ch. 07 After a relatively quiet weekend, I went to work early on Monday on my backlog of photo shoots. I had no appointments scheduled for that day to give me time to go through the videos and edit them into salable segments, and to print the stills as well as prepare slides for those rags that required them. The problem with such a week as I had just finished was that the film backed up until I had time to catch up and then it became something of a problem just keeping track of everything. I had my own methods, and they worked, but it was a little painful putting out so many prints and slides and videos. Once they were ready I labeled the mailers for the myriad of mags I would be submitting to and then filing those that were to be submitted at a later date – I'd learned the hard way that I didn't want to inundate a bunch of publications with the same model in the same month. However scattered over time, other magazines would buy sets from models who had appeared in competitors' publications. By mid-afternoon, I had a pretty good handle on everything and breathed a sigh of relief. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and had just poured a cup when I got a call from Rhonda, an assistant editor at Jugs Magazine. She asked if I would be interested and available to do a rush shoot for a new model – they had a contractual problem on one of the layouts they had planned to include in the current issue and they needed to replace it with something else. They could have selected something from archives but her boss had recommended that a new model whom he had recently interviewed be sent to a freelancer like me for a quick shoot. I agreed to take her that evening and get the results couriered to the magazine within 48 hours (for which they would pay a premium price if they used the shoot. The kids from downstairs came up when they got home from school and asked if they could play in my playground layout and, as always, I agreed. I watched for Gia to come home from work early that evening and called her to see if she'd like to play my assistant for a shoot, for which I would pay her a reasonable wage. She said she'd be glad to do it for nothing but, if I thought she was really helpful, she could use a little extra money. A few minutes later, Gia came bouncing up the stairs to kiss her three children hello. I knew she hadn't taken time to eat dinner so I sent her over to my kitchen to make a sandwich or get something out of the fridge while I moved the video cameras, wheeled down the cart with my still cameras and film canisters and extra video tapes. At 7:25, the bell rang and I ran down to admit my model. She introduced herself as Irvana, a 46 year old blonde from Sweden, and I immediately saw why the editor wanted to shoot a layout of her. She told me that her measurements were 44H-32-42 and I could believe it. She was built like a big hourglass. I escorted Irvana upstairs and introduced her to Gia, who was in the process of sending her brood down to finish homework and get to bed. I showed Irvana around the studio and then to the layout we were going to use. It was the metropolitan setting with some changes to appear like a side-walk cafe. Off to the side was a menu chalkboard, showing the day's menu: Magnificent mammaries, Luscious pussy, Awesome ass, Lickable legs, and - for desert – Sweet lips. I asked if she had ever posed nude. Irvana giggled and said no, not for a camera, although she had never had any problems posing nude for men. The way she said it led me to believe there had been more than a handful. I talked through the idea of the shoot, where Irvana was going to be the waitress and offer the items on the menu until she finally offered a feast of all items. She giggled and said she thought it was a cute idea. I told her about the need to keep her eyes on the dangling fob on my camera lens and she said she understood. Irvana started off wearing a frilly white blouse above a short black pleated skirt and I commenced the shoot, asking her the profile questions while we worked. "What age are you?" I asked. "I'm 51 years young," she replied with a lilt in her voice. "Where were you born?" "In a little suburb of Stockholm." "When did you come to this country?" "My parents brought me and my two sisters to this country when I was 14." "Do you miss your native land?" "At first I did but I soon came to love this country. I made many friends quickly and would never move back." "Have you ever been married?" "Yes. Two times, in fact." "Did you have children?" "Oh, yes. Three boys between the two marriages. They are long since out on their own." "Are you still married?" "No, I've been a widow for seven years." "Did you have other lovers?" "But of course." "How many?" "Oh, I do not know. I have never thought it was nice to count." I handed my camera to Gia and she swapped it with a loaded one. She would reload it for me while I worked on. Turning to Irvana, I instructed her to begin removing her clothes but slowly. "What attracts you to a man?" "He has to be kind and considerate and interested in what I think." "It sounds like you enjoy sex?" "Very much so." "What is your favorite position?" "Oh, that is a hard question to answer. I like so many. I suppose if I had to pick one, I would say that I like the cowgirl position best – you know, where I'm on top riding a big hard cock." "Do you enjoy oral sex?" "Oh, definitely." "Giving?" "But of course. I love to suck a beautiful cock. It is such a contradiction. So hard and yet so soft. And I love to make them softer – after he cums in my mouth." "Do you ever let a man cum on your breasts?" "Certainly. That is one of the joys of having extra large tits. Do you like mine?" By then, Irvana had worked her blouse off and surprised me by showing that she was not wearing a bra. Yet her huge hooters were as firm and forthright as most women much younger and smaller than she was. They were centered by hard crimson nipples as large as the last joint of my thumb, all within large oval areolas of a dark pink color. "Yes, I do. May I ask how you manage to keep them so firm?" "Oh, I knew very early that I would have to exercise to keep them from drooping. I work out for 90 minutes every day and 45 minutes of that is a series of exercise to keep my boobs from falling." Of course I had to – yes, had to – take time to go over and adjust the way Irvana stood from time to time, making sure that I got a good feel of those luscious beauties. Naturally I had a raging hard-on and could barely wait to get her naked, finish the shoot and fuck her. I showed her how I wanted her to lay on the round cafe table as if offering herself to customers. So far, she was naked down to the waist but just that provided so very much for lovers of big breasts. As she lay on the table on her side, head propped on one hand, I was amazed at how well her huge mammary glands kept their shape. They looked so delicious. I went back to the camera, noticing that Gia seemed like she was in a trance, licking her lips. I worked my way around the table, snapping shots of Irvana and her magnificent twins from every angle. By then I had Irvana in a deep trance and gave her instructions on what to do the rest of the night. It only took a wave of my hand to get Gia out of her clothes and over to kiss and suck and lick on Irvana's tits while I kept clicking. We backed off long enough for Irvana to work her skirt off, followed very sensuously by her frilly panties and then I shot a roll of her lying on her tummy displaying her generous ass, some of them while Gia was licking her big globes. Then she turned onto her back and we started shooting her pussy, which was topped by a little triangle of almost transparent blonde hair that looked like a two-inch sided arrow pointing to her treasure – as if anyone would need directions! Before I knew it, I had gone through seven rolls of film, so mesmerized by Irvana that I had gone beyond my usual shoot limit by a roll – not that it mattered. I would find uses for the extra shots. I put my still cameras on the cart, shed my own clothes, and put fresh tapes in the video cameras. I dropped to my knees between Irvana's legs and began to lick her thighs, finally converging on her central heat source. I had the distinct impression that she had expected something of the sort to happen because I could smell the gentle fragrance of her perfume, dabbed between her legs, mixed with the odor of her hot sex. Together it made for a very heady aroma that fired my own imagination. I know, subconsciously at least, that the senses can be altered by predetermined ideas in the brain and I'm sure that, to some extent, my sense of smell is always altered whenever I taste a woman. That bothers me not one iota. To me all women taste sweet. It is just that some are sweeter than others. Irvana was one of the sweetest I'd ever tasted, although there was a slight tartness also. She reminded me of the great taste of Sweet Tarts candies, but not that tart. While I busied myself licking and sucking Irvana's swollen pussy, I glanced over her tummy to see her and Gia kissing passionately, while Gia's hands kneaded one of Irvana's breasts like a batch of freshly mixed bread dough. I went back to eating Irvana's pussy with renewed passion. When I moved up and encompassed her clit with my lips and teased it with the tip of my tongue, she started to grunt, "Uh ... uh ... uh, uh, uh, yesssss, baby, yessss!" She clamped her thighs around my ears tightly and her pussy began to quake. I lifted her bottom just a touch with both hands and licked up the flow of fresh juices oozing out of her twat. Gradually the tension on my head eased and I felt her relax. Holding her legs on my shoulders, I rose to my feet. My stiff pole was at just the right height. Gia stood at Irvana's head and reached out to grab her ankles, pulling her legs back and opening her pussy for me. That also gave the cameras a good shot at my point of penetration and I pushed my cock slowly into her depths. Irvana looked at me with a devilish grin and pushed her tits together as an additional offering. However I wanted to concentrate on getting the cameras as good a shot at our connection as possible so I kept a little distance between us, keeping my arms back out of the way of the lenses. With a wave of my hand, I indicated to Gia that she should climb onto the table with Irvana. It was quite an erotic sight, watching Gia lower her pussy to Irvana's pink tongue while Gia still held Irvana's legs for me. Although I couldn't see it, the cameras later showed that Irvana also spent several minutes licking and tongue-fucking Gia's anus. While Irvana's tongue was the magic needed to get Gia to cum, my thumb on Irvana's clitoris did the trick for her and we got some great climax shots of the women. Shortly after that, I felt my balls contract and pulled my cock out, aiming it at the two women. Shot after shot of pearly white cum landed on the two women, from as high as Gia's forehead down to Irvana's little blonde arrow above her pussy. I collected the video cassettes on my work cart and the three of us walked over to my quarters and showered. Gia quickly dressed and went downstairs to her kids. However Irvana said that it was awfully late and she had a 90 minute commute. She was too tired to do that and asked if she could sleep with me. She wouldn't mind if I wanted to fuck her again if she could sleep afterward. Guess how I responded. End of Ch 07 Photographs Ch. 07 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. ***** True to his word, Danny made no further attempt to seduce his mother that night. With one topic hanging so heavily between them, they found little else they could talk about, so once the cookies were consumed, Danny went off to his room to shower. He returned, wearing his normal bed clothes of boxers and an old t-shirt, to find his mother already curled up beneath the blankets. She sighed drowsily when his weight hit the bed beside her, but did not waken. Before settling in, he carefully raised the blanket to see what she wore - shorts and a small top with spaghetti straps. He supposed nakedness was too much to hope for. They were both pink and girlie, though, and that made him smile. Then he lowered the blankets over both of them. He lay there for a long time, facing her back, waiting. When he was certain she slept soundly, he eased forward until he was spooned against her. For a moment he indulged in the smell of roses in her hair, and maybe his palms stroked her bare arms once or twice to feel the softness of her skin, but he reminded himself to behave, and he did. With his arm wrapped chastely around her torso, he drifted off into a much needed slumber. ###### Christie woke in the middle of the night needing to roll over. Her right hip pinched and burned, but Danny's weight pinned her in place. She struggled. "Danny!" "Mom," Danny said sleepily. "I wasn't doing anything. I swear." "Let me roll over, honey. I'm cramped." He shifted his weight without saying anything, allowing her to roll over and face him. She lay with her face pressed against his chest, one hand against his ribs. His arm wound back around her, claiming and trapping her just as thoroughly as Steve ever did. Soon he breathed deeply again, but his arm remained in place. Christie drifted back off herself, thinking about how one male's actions could leave her feeling helpless and used, and the same actions by another made her feel safe, comfortable, and loved. ##### The next morning, Danny woke to find himself alone. He rolled over to inhale the scent from her pillow. Lazing about in bed on a Sunday morning tempted him, but he had an idea that today might be a very special day. Eager to see what might happen, he bounded out of bed and went to his room. After dressing, he drifted toward the kitchen. The smell of bacon and coffee beckoned to him. Christie was there, frying bacon, and a scramble of eggs, potatoes and onions. A melon sat on a cutting board. "Do you mind cutting that?" she asked. He went to where she stood at the stove and wrapped his arms around her from behind to give her a hug. "Behave," she said. "I am. This is how I behave." "Badly." "Good morning," he said in her ear. She laughed, and pointed at the melon with the spatula. "Chunks or slices. Your choice." He let go and moved to the counter where the melon sat. She started to stir the potatoes again, but when he glanced her way, she was looking at him. She blushed when he caught her, just like a teenage girl, and he felt a little thrill. "I was thinking of bringing you breakfast in bed if you hadn't gotten up already." "Damn. Will you do it tomorrow?" "You will be bringing me breakfast in bed tomorrow." "Oh I will, will I?" "I intend to laze the day away. Lying in bed on a Sunday is allowed. Doing it on Monday is decadent." "So, in your quest to corrupt yourself you will deny your child his meals. I don't think that should be allowed." "I'd like to see you try and stop me." They both laughed. The food was ready and they took it to the table. "What shall we do today?" Christie asked as they ate. "Miniature golf," he said automatically. "You know, we always say that, but have we ever actually done it?" He thought for a second. "No, I don't think you've ever given in." "I suspect today is going to be a day all about giving in." They held each other's glances for a moment, then both blushed and looked down at their plates. A flush of excitement had his nerves tingling all over his body. She had decided. He knew it. She had decided and it wasn't no. What game she was playing by not saying anything right away, he didn't know, but he decided to play along with her. It could be a fun day. "I don't think I want to do miniature golf anymore," he said around a mouthful of food. "I've kind of outgrown it." She thought about that. "You know that place out by the I-5? It has golf and go karts, and water slides." "And a big game room for me to whip you in." "You will never beat me at Dance Dance Revolution." "Is that a challenge?" "I guess it is." "Well, then that's what we'll do today." ###### "It's too cold for the water slides, Danny." Christie, who normally loved anything wet, had suggested go-karts first, but Danny had led her to the the changing rooms. Now they stood outside them and argued while Christie balked. He surveyed his mother's outfit: denim capris, plain tee with sleeves that came past her elbows, canvas sneakers. Leaning forward so they couldn't be overheard, he whispered, "How bad is the bruising?" She crossed her arms around her middle, cradling her elbows, and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Bad enough. It's been building lately, and Thursday was the last night before a three-week trip." She looked up and smiled ruefully. "Don't worry. When he goes on one of these long trips, he always comes back satisfied for a while." "Do you ever wonder what goes on on those long trips that leaves him satisfied?" he said softly, glancing around to make sure they were not overhead. Christie frowned and bit her lower lip for a second. "Yeah, I do." "That night, I heard him say-" He was about to say that Steve had declared that he didn't like using professionals because they wanted it, but Christie placed a finger over his lips. "Not today," she said. Her expressions softened. "Today is about us. Go." She shooed him forward with her hands. "It makes me happy just to see you enjoy yourself." "No. Today is about us, remember? We'll do something together." The spent the next several hours riding go-karts, challenging each other to arcade games, and eating junk food. Every now and then, one would look up to see the other looking back. A few times someone would blush, sometimes Danny, sometimes Christie. Christie ate a frozen chocolate-covered banana and wouldn't meet his eyes for the lengthy five minutes she spent nibbling and licking, although he noticed a smile playing around the corner of her mouth quite a few times. "You must really like those things," he said. She delicately nipped off a piece of the end, but didn't reply. "We should keep the freezer stocked." She cracked up but still wouldn't look at him. When the banana was eaten, he bent forward until his torso rested on the table and looked up at her face. "Did you just try to seduce me?" he whispered. "In your case, that's hardly necessary. That was a tease." "This whole day is a tease, isn't it?" She smiled and said, "You know, and I know, what's going to happen. This is the pleasurable anticipation. I've never had this, Danny. I don't want a slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am. I want the whole package." She rose. "Come on. More having fun and pleasurable anticipation." They arrived before the miniature golf course at around two. "Let's do the Time Warp," Christie said. "Huh?" "Never mind. You're too young. It's just this is so hopelessly 1960." "Rocky Horror wasn't 1960," he said, confused. "No, but I feel like I'm in a time warp every time I look at one of these things." She turned to him, face lit. "Let's make this our special thing. NOT miniature golfing." He laughed. "Sure, but I think it depends upon what we do instead." She grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the exit. ###### Danny bounced one knee up and down almost the entire thirty-minute drive home. In the last twenty-four hours, his mother had made her decision. She was giving in. More, he could tell that she was excited by the way her fingers drummed the steering wheel now and then in rhythm to the radio. She kept her eyes on the road, mostly, while he mostly watched her, savoring the 'pleasurable anticipation'. The miles passed too quickly, while not nearly quickly enough at the same time. Several times over the next hours, he would wish that he could freeze these moments forever. At last they pulled into the garage, taking the spot next to the empty place where Steve's vehicle usually rested. "It doesn't mean he's not here," Christie said as she opened her door. "I'll check the house." Key in hand, Christie paused at the short set of steps that led to the laundry room and looked at her son. He seemed so happy. Nervous maybe, but otherwise bursting out of his skin with happiness. With him on the step below hers, she didn't need to rise up on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. Before she could say anything, he clutched her around the waist and gave her an eager, demanding kiss on the lips. Then she was backed against the door, returning his kisses, just as eager and demanding. They broke and she laughed. "We have all day," she said, turning to the the lock. "Check the house and meet me in the bedroom." Finely tuned to every nuance of Steve's behavior, Christie already knew he hadn't returned, but she had Danny check the house out of a healthy respect for the man's deviousness and basic cruelty. If they started something today, something that continued, they would have to be more careful than even other couples committing incest or adultery. In some ways he was predictable - she used that - but she had no idea what he would do if he discovered this. Whatever it would be, it would be bad for her, and Danny too. Christie let those thoughts slip away in to a dark corner of her mind. Today was about her and Danny. In the bedroom, she removed her shoes and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Even from the second floor, she could hear Danny moving from room to room. She took a damp washcloth and wiped her face, debating a shower, but decided she'd want to shower with him later. "All clear," Danny called from her bedroom door. She tossed the washcloth on the counter and went to meet him. "Did you buy that banana on purpose?" he asked, still standing by the door. "I don't think you really like chocolate-covered bananas," he added suspiciously. "Would I do something as deliberately provocative as that?" He remained still as she came up to him to place her hands on his chest. "I don't know. I've never seen you in this kind of situation before." He placed his hands over hers. "I've never been in this kind of situation before, and I don't mean just with my son." In all her life she had been with two men, one a rape she didn't remember, and the other coercion, a different kind of rape. Even though there were times she enjoyed being with Steve, in the larger sense she never did. Danny would be a first for her, she thought, suddenly feeling an awkward shyness. "I've never had sex with someone I wanted to." "Then I think the men of the world lost out when Dad took you out of the dating pool." They kissed slowly this time. They were both already somewhat aroused, but also both wanted to make this last because neither knew if they were starting something or if this would be a once in a lifetime. Danny's hands moved to encircle her waist, but no farther; Christie's remained on his chest. After a few minutes Danny shifted his lips to Christie's neck, and she in turn began to move her hands, sliding them down his torso. They only way to learn what would turn him on would be to try things, so she placed her lips over his earlobe and sucked it into her mouth. He made a happy sound. "That feels good?" "Mmmm-hmmmm." She bit it and she could feel the rumble of his laughter in his chest beneath her hands. It made her heart flood with warmth. "I love you," she said and knew that she said it in a different way, felt it in a different way, than she ever had before. "I love you," he said. She clutched at his t-shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. Seconds later her hands were on his warm, bare skin. It was like satin laid over his firm muscles. Danny was fit from so much basketball, and naturally strong. She was dying to see him naked, but she would wait. "Off," she demanded, yanking the shirt upward. Danny let go of her to raise his arms, allowing her to slide the shirt over his head. His bare chest was a smooth expanse of skin and muscle, and a sprinkling of dark hairs. It wasn't a massive weight lifter's chest, but it was toned with well defined pectorals. Christie didn't need to voice her appreciation. The look on her face, the gleam in her eyes, told Danny what she saw. He tugged at her shirt and pulled it off, too. Underneath, she wore a pink lace bra that barely hid rosy gumdrop-sized nipples. He cupped one breast to brush his thumb across the nipple and looked up at her face. "What's the matter, Danny?" "I don't want to do this wrong." "Do you love me? Do you care that we both enjoy it?" "Yes, of course." "Then just be honest with me about you want and what you're feeling, and I'll do the same." He bent down and put his mouth on one, sucking at it through the raspy layer of lace. Christie placed one hand on the back of his head, fingers threading through his thick hair. With her free hand, she reached behind her back and popped the hooks on her bra. It sagged forward. Danny didn't notice at first, but then he pulled his head back a fraction, tugged at the fabric, and pulled it from her. His eyes lit up when her breasts spilled free. One large, warm palm covered her left breast and he held it there before joining it with his mouth. He licked and kissed and moved to the other breast to do the same. When he pulled her nipple into his mouth, she whimpered low in her throat and her hands went back to his hair. Soon she had her leg thrown around his thigh. "Danny." She moved her body in a slow motion against his. "Bed? You're so big, we'd be more comfortable lying down." He looked up and she could tell by his face that rational thinking had departed. His gaze returned to her breasts, but he surprised her by placing a hand behind each of her thighs and lifting. Hastily she threw her arms around his neck and laughed. Danny carried her to the edge of the bed and lowered her down. Standing straight again, he kicked off his shoes while she reached for his buckle. He let her unzip and lower his jeans, then removed his shorts himself. His erection sprang free. Christie licked her lips and swallowed. "Well, you're certainly proportional." She wrapped a hand around the thick length of him, and put her mouth over the end because she couldn't resist. Salty pre-cum coated her tongue as it glided over smooth, slick skin. Big, but not huge, he was not too thick for her to suck comfortably for a good length of time. She was looking forward to that, but she had other things she wanted to do first. "Can we take off your clothes now?" he asked. She lifted her hips and he leaned forward to pull her capris down and off. "Now the panties." She slipped her hands into the sides of the lace panties and slowly dragged them downward. When the panties reached the floor, and she kicked them aside, he threaded his fingers into the curls of her pussy. "Are you supposed to be this wet?" She stiffened just a tiny bit and looked up into his eyes. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" "Is that a problem?" "No. It's just...I figured... No. It's fine. Nice actually, to be your first. He sat down beside her and slipped his hand into her pussy once more, drawing it out again covered in her juices and then bringing them to his mouth. They smelled pungent, a heady scent, and tasted sweet and salty at the same time. He closed his eyes, savoring it, and then returned his hand to her mound. "You must read a lot of porn, because you seem to know what you're doing." He snickered and then claimed her lips again, all the while still working her pussy. "It takes a woman longer, Danny." She pulled him down to lie beside her on the bed. He kept his hand working the entire time, his lips never left hers except to kiss her throat. His finger slid to the side of her clit just the way she liked, and she moaned, "Like that. More." He had one arm around her, holding her. "Your hand is so big, you can use your thumb and put your fingers inside me." He tried this, sliding two fingers inside, sliding them out again. Her body arched. "Keep going." "Mom?" "Hmmm?" "Could I..." He paused. "Say it, Danny. Whatever you want, ask for it." "Could I go down on you?" "First?" "You said it would take you longer anyway, and it's something I really want to do." She tried to make room for him between her legs, moving up towards the pillows, but Danny was so big that he had to crouch uncomfortably. Finally she scooted to the edge of the bed, and Danny knelt there on the floor between her knees. He didn't know what to do first, and for a minute he just looked. She trimmed for her bathing suits, but didn't shave completely, leaving a small strip of dark hair there. Short and wiry, it prickled beneath the fingertip he drew over it. The skin of her inner thighs was soft and creamy white, and he pressed his face into it for a second, inhaling. Musky feminine arousal and a hint of some floral soap she had used in the morning. Her muscles tightened ever so slightly when he placed kisses there. From there he licked at the moisture beaded on her opening, drawing his tongue in longer and longer strokes until it penetrated between her folds and brushed against her clit. She rewarded him with a sigh and a small jerk of her hips. Figuring he had got something right, he did it again, and again. After a while Christie didn't want to make him self-conscious by asking for him to do it differently, but she ended up saying, "Suck on it a little, Danny." Danny complied, and it felt so good she had to cross her arms over her head to keep from holding him down. She looked at the shaggy head nestled between her thighs, closed her eyes, and groaned. "Fingers. Can you do two fingers, too?" Two long fingers slipped into her cunt and found her most sensitive spot. "There! Like that." Christie was soon shifting her hips forward to meet his finger thrusts. Obviously he didn't know what he was doing, learning as he went, but it was good anyway. Christie started to lose herself in the sensations of Danny's fingers and tongue. "Danny," she said, and she found she had put her hands on his head, holding him. "More. Ah. Fuck, Danny." Raising one hand, she plucked restlessly at her nipple, arching her back and whimpering. She raised her heels to the edge of the mattress to gain more leverage, bucking her hips. She let go of Danny's head completely, each thumb and forefinger pulling a nipple taut. A minute later she came, her entire body jerking with one sharp spasm followed by several deeper ones. She lay quietly while Danny continued to work on her. "Danny," she said softly. He looked up. "Thank you." He grinned and she moved so he could lie alongside her on the bed. He held her tightly and kissed her face, smearing her cum all over. She felt good, sated, but knew she could tolerate much more. Reaching down, she took his cock in her fist and stroked it gently, all the while kissing his mouth. Photographs Ch. 07 "It was okay?" he asked. "It was wonderful. I forgot my own name for a minute there. Yours, too." She glanced down at the shaft in her hand. "I was afraid that with how tall you are, you'd be like one of those freak porn stars." "I'm not?" he asked, and she didn't know if his disappointment was real or fake. "You're big, but perfect." They kissed a little more, but Danny said, "I can't wait anymore, Mom. I'm sorry, but I think if we go on like this I'll come without even going all the way fucking you." She rolled onto her back and he climbed atop her between her spread legs. She felt a little fluttery, shaking from the inside out. She was really doing this. He stopped, poised at her opening. For a moment she couldn't decipher the expectant look on his face, and then she realized he was waiting for permission. After the way Steve had used her against her will for so long, she was so grateful, tears sprang to her eyes. "I love you, Danny. I want this. Please." "I love you, Mom," he said and thrust into her. "Wait!" It took her a second to notice his anxious expression. It dawned on her that he was still expecting her to reject him. Reject this. She placed her palm on his cheek and smiled. "You're a bit bigger than I'm used to. I need a moment to adjust." "Oh." He blinked, and then smiled, a little smug. "Let me know when you're ready." "Now is good." And then he was moving in her. "Oh God, I never thought it would feel like this," he said. He was fucking a woman, and it was the most fantastic thing he ever felt. Now he knew what it really meant when they said a woman was hot. She was hot inside, and wet, and sliding in and out of her was a million times better than jacking off in the shower. And the sounds she made, little moans and gasps. He never expected that hearing her so turned on would turn him on even more. They fucked for several minutes, Danny trying to hold back, but he had been far to close to begin with. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him down to rest his weight on his elbows, and wouldn't let go. "I'm not going to take long for the second time, Danny," she said into his ear, her nails biting his skin, a pleasurable little prick without pain. He lowered his head and kissed her mouth. Christie's whole body arched up off of the bed and then he could feel her coming, her tight slick cunt gripping him even harder. Danny exploded into orgasm seconds later, his cum spurting deep inside her. He hovered there, kissing her, and then he collapsed. Christie's grunt brought him to his senses. "Sorry," he said, and laughed with joy as he rolled to the side. She rolled with him, her long shapely body ending up atop his. Christie's deep, throaty chuckle joined his laughter. They kissed some more, laughing in between, and Danny, who had never gone soft, was soon ready again. Christie, for her part, seemed just as eager, shifting her lower body up and back against his abdomen. "Again?" he said. "Hmmm." She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. "I," she said before giving him a quick kiss, "have other plans. And I'm leaking cum all over the place." Her eyes sparkled. "Want a blow job in the shower?" She scampered off him and jumped down from the bed. Danny settled his hands behind his head and smiled up at the gauzy canopy overhead. A moment later he heard the shower running, and a moment after that Christie poked her head around the bathroom doorway. Danny hurried off the bed, grabbed a giggling Christie by the waist and half-carried her into the shower stall. It was just big enough for two to enjoy themselves very much. "You're giggling," he said. "I don't think I've ever heard that sound before." He pushed her against the pink and rose tile and it was a while before anything else was said, and a very long time before any real washing was done. Water cascaded over them while they kissed, a new sensation for both. Showering with another person was far too personal, too intimate for Steve's sensibilities. The water and barren tile made a slippery environment that Steve could not completely control. Christie poked and pushed at Danny's chest until he was the one leaning back against the tile, and she smoothly lowered herself to her knees amid the draining water. Her palms caressed his long, muscular legs. "Nice legs, Danny. You are so fit and strong." He smiled down at her and threaded his fingers through her wet hair. "You already know how sexy I think you are." She didn't reply, but concentrated on ruffling the dark curls at the base of his cock. Her thumb gently slid over his balls, and then she followed it with her tongue. "You're just the right size. A mouthful, but I won't get tired sucking on you." "You've sucked on big cocks?" he said, joking. "Your father is the only man I've ever slept with," she said with a frown, "but I have been known to read a thing or two." "And I'm much larger than he is," he said smugly. She looked up into his face. "It really is rude to discuss his privates with you behind his back." She smiled just a little. "Now," she said and gave him a little lick along his shaft, "that is the last we'll say on the subject. I don't want to talk or think about him while I'm with you." Then she took him in and both of them were incapable of speech. Christie licked and sucked, and found a rhythm where she was able to take as much as she could deep into her mouth, grasping the base with her fist. With each stroke she swirled her tongue around his tip, pushing back the foreskin on the downward stroke. "God, I love to suck cock," she gasped out when she came up for air. Danny's whole body jerked. "Jeez, Mom, you can't say stuff like that when I'm trying to hold back." His cock still in her mouth, Christie tilted her head back to look at his face, but decided to save the conversation about holding back during oral sex for another time. She decided to cheat. She gently cupped his balls with her free hand for a minute, rolling them a little in their sac, and then slid her forefinger back behind them to finger his anus. "Ah! What? What are you doing?" His legs shook and he gripped her head tighter, thrusting a little now into her hand and mouth. Christie popped her finger into his sphincter. Danny shouted and a second later his cum filled her mouth in spurt after spurt. It tasted a little bitter and strong, but she swallowed it all. After Danny collapsed limply against the wall, Christie sucked a little more, just because she loved the feel of something in her mouth, and then rested the side of her face against Danny's hip. He gathered his wits and grasped her upper arms gently to pull her up. "God, Mom, that was incredible. I don't know which was better." "Never done that, either, I take it." "No." She handed him a washcloth. "Wash my back? Carefully now." They both enjoyed the new experience of being bathed by another, taking time to kiss and nibble each body part, until the cooling water made them finally leave the shower. Then they got to try toweling each other dry, which they also found thoroughly enjoyable. They were sitting at the edge of the bed, Christie still working the damp out of her long hair, when Danny's stomach growled. She laughed. "Do you want more?" Danny asked. "I'm so content and happy right now, if I were a drug I'd be illegal. Come on. Get dressed." ##### Danny slept in Christie's bed freely that night and intended to for as long as Steve was away. He had no choice, he thought with a smile in the dark; Christie declared she would keep him there until they needed to do things like eat. She lay beside him right that minute, head on his shoulder. The whole day left him sexually sated for the first time in his entire life, and it was a feeling he intended to share with her many more times. His mother seemed happy. Christie. He would call her Christie, he decided right then and there. Not right away, but maybe when he started at UCLA. If she hadn't already lost the college battle, he wasn't about to give in now. He would stay at home as long as she was willing to share a bed with him. "Christie," he whispered, thinking it would save them from any mishaps in the future. Her response was a sniff. "Mom?" He raised himself up to look down at her in the dim glow of the night light. He couldn't really see her expression, but another sniff told him he hadn't imagined the first. "Mom?" She rubbed her wet cheek against his chest. A soft little sob escaped her, and then she started to cry in earnest. Dumbfounded, Danny struggled to find something to say. If his mother ever cried, and given her life he suspected she must, she refused to do it in front of other people. In fact, he couldn't recall a time when he had ever witnessed her tears. She soon had them under control, but her breaths continued to come in shuddering gasps. "Mom, please," he said when she quieted herself. "If this is about this being wrong, please don't tell me tonight. Please. In the morning. You can end it in the morning, but give me tonight." She responded by wrapping her right arm around him tight as a vise and kissing his cheek. "God no, Danny. It's not that. There's no going back for me." She took a breath. "It's just... I'm thirty-four years old, married for sixteen years, and this is the first time in my life I've been held in the night by a man who loves me." "I do love you," he said softly. "How have I survived this long?" "By refusing to give up hope?" She rubbed her face against his chest. "Maybe. I think I might have over the last couple of years. Just thinking this is my life and nothing will make it any better." "You stopped being angry." "I never was angry. Anger implies powerlessness. I was determined, but I think even that went away." "You have something now," he said. "Yes, I do," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. They kissed for a while, and then he said, "You know, this is the first time for me, too, and I don't just mean sex." "I guess Meghan didn't love you." He kissed her fiercely. "So you see, I need you, too." He slapped his forehead. "I'm a jerk." "What are you talking about?" "I never asked about birth control, and we really really can't get you pregnant." "Want to know a big big secret?" she whispered. "What?" "Very early in the marriage, Steve started talking about having children of his own. He demanded that I stop taking birth control. By then I had got wise, and I saw how he was with you. He didn't want children, he wanted ways to tie me to him. If we had kids I'd be tied to him forever. He got very insistent. Started to threaten to use the information he has." "What information?" "Not now, Danny." "Okay," he said reluctantly. "So what did you do?" "I went out, got a fake ID, and got an IUD. The doctor didn't want to do it, because I was so young. There's a risk it can make you infertile. I finally had to explain what was really going on, and that I already had a child. But I got it, and I've worn one ever since. Steve never guessed. He thinks he might have a low sperm count." They both laughed at that. "Do you want more children?" Danny asked. She was quiet so long, he knew what the answer would be when she said, "Yes. I'm young enough to have more, but I'll never have a child with Steve." "If you're sleeping with me, you won't be able to have one either." "I suppose if Steve were gone, I could find other ways." "I always wanted a brother or a sister, but I guess now that I'm grown it wouldn't be the same." They were quiet for a time, and then they talked for a long time after that. Christie told him about what it had been like to be pregnant and then a mother in high school, with the boys thinking she must be easy and the girls calling her a slut, even though everybody knew what really happened. They talked about his college and career plans and her court cases. They talked about what they would do and where they would go if Steve disappeared from their lives. In the dark everything was just the sound of their quiet voices, Christie's perfume and the unique scent of Danny, the feel of skin against skin. They talked until Danny finally fell asleep face down on the bed, still turned toward her. She looked at the faint outline of him in the darkness. Her son and now her lover. "What are you to me now?" she whispered. Danny was as young as she had been when she married Steve. Their stories were different, though. Christie had already been thinking about the future, making plans, and struggling to survive as a person against the overwhelming force of Steve's obsession. Danny had his problems in life, but right now everything for him was about the moment. If she asked him what he wanted out of life, he would probably answer to be a doctor and to stay with Christie forever. But Christie knew better. Someday, he would want to build a life of his own. Feel the magic of finding a stranger and falling in love with her. A wedding, children of his own. She could give him none of those things, and although she intended to make this time together a wonderful experience for him, she knew that someday, maybe not soon but eventually, she would have to let him go. Photographs Ch. 08 Tuesday morning I puttered around my work area working on Monday's stills and taking a preliminary look at the videos. I put the videos aside, since the magazine didn't want them and went to work on the still shots. I probably could make four or five salable sets from them, perhaps even six if I was careful with the cropping and touch-ups. I quickly selected enough to satisfy the magazine that had sent me the model and put the others aside for now. I was pretty close to finalizing that set when the bell rang. I knew it was my next appointment, Traci, and since she had been to the studio an even dozen times before, I buzzed her in and met her at the top of the stairs. Traci was the very first model on whom I had practice post-hypnotic suggestion and she was still following the instructions she received from me over 14 months earlier. Not only had I sold more shoots of her beautiful body than any other model, I had also screwed her more often than any other woman. Of course if Gia kept up her recent ways, she might catch up in that department in just a few more weeks. In spite of Traci's long blonde hair, which I had confirmed as her natural color long ago, she was a very intelligent woman. She was a college graduate with a mechanical engineering degree and worked for a national company designing many of their robotic machinery controls. I had developed a very healthy respect for her knowledge. I had prepared an old time confectioner's shop to use as a set for our photo shoot. It was similar to one I'd used for some other ladies, including a small marble table for pouring hot candy and a soda fountain for making shakes, malts and sundaes, including a variety of syrups, whipped cream and cherries. Even though it had been used before, it was a popular layout with our readers. I'd never had a mag turn down a similar layout. We started off with the usual dressed photos with Traci answering my questions; I was hard pressed to ask her unique questions because of our history together but I worded some of the same questions differently and we got through the interview part. By then Traci was slowly stripping off her clothes, giving me a little more skin to my shots. By the time she got down to bra, g-string and shoes, I took a range of shots and then we shifted gears. I had her remove the bra and panties and put on a little white frilly apron that was held on with two straps over her shoulder and a tie around her waist. It was the kind of get-up that made readers want to reach out and move that little bit of cloth to see what was behind it. Traci picked up a big mixing bowl that had some PlayDough in it and she held it just under her tits and pretended to stir. She had a hard time keeping the straps over her nipples and before long I had a whole series of shots with one or both nipples peaking out. It was sexy as hell. Putting the bowl aside, we poured a similarly colored liquid on the marble top, looking like some sort of candy cooling. Traci leaned over the table, resting her weight on her forearms and spreading her feet while I lay on the floor and crawled under her. I took over 90 shots from that position while Traci opened her pussy to the camera, shook her hanging hooters at the lens and, after discarding the apron, squatted over me to give me a whole wide range of sexy poses of her various parts: tits, pussy, ass and face. By then, she was hotter than a firecracker. She yanked my shorts down, exposing my erection which she engulfed in one swift downward motion. Although it wasn't the most comfortable position I could think of, considering that the floor was rather hard carpet, the sensations of her pussy around my cock more than offset the discomfort. Traci screamed twice before I shot a load of cum into her cunt. As Traci oh-so-slowly lifted herself off my prong, I got another dozen shots of my cock sliding out of her and my cum beginning to drip from her love box. I got a few more when she arranged herself so she could suck my cock into her mouth and blow me. When I was stiff again, Traci stood and bent over the table again, pushing her bare ass out invitingly. I stood behind her and slipped my cock back into her pussy. She was a delightful fuck, especially since this was my favorite position and she had such a great ass to bang into and she had such beautiful hooters to hold onto as we slammed together. We both reached another great climax just seconds apart. That afternoon I spent in my dark room developing pictures and editing more videos. My eyes were tired when I heard the bell ring. Checking the clock, I was surprised to see that it was 5:30. The caller turned out to be Gia and her three kids. Maria and Esteban asked permission to play in the playground set and they all raced away at my nod. Gia took my hand and led me to my 'bedroom'. She was two aitches – hot and horny – and wasted no time in fondling my cock to an erection and then pulling me down on top of her. I gotta say that she is an amazing woman. Her enthusiasm for sex infuses me with energy while at the same time the exertion and ultimate climaxes sap my will to move like nothing else ever has. I admit I love ladies in general but I'd grown to love Gia in particular. After a wonderful round where we both came twice, we adjourned to the kitchen where I helped Gia make a pasta and salad dinner for the five of us. Afterward we cleaned up the kitchen and sat around a while watching the kids at the other end of the loft before Gia asked if I'd like to fuck her one more time. That seemed like a useless question! We hurried to the bedroom. This time we didn't even undress. I dropped my shorts while she flipped her skirt over her butt, exposing her panty-less pussy. With her holding onto the lower part of my work counter for support, I pounded her pussy from behind, fondling her tits with one hand and teasing her clit with the other. She came twice before I unloaded. With our clothes straightened up, we spent several minutes kissing before she made the kids straighten up the playground and follow her downstairs. The only pictures I have ever made of Estella and Maria and Esteban were of them fully clothed for Gia's own personal enjoyment. I do not deal in pictures of children and am not tempted to try to sell them to any magazine but Gia was very grateful to have professional quality pictures of her youngsters to put into her scrapbooks. Their mother, on the other hand, has proved to be a very hot model. I've sold Gia's solo pictures to Swank, Lust, Latina Women, and Busty Babes magazines, all for top dollar per shoot. I've sold sets that include her sucking my dick and me fucking her pussy to Coupling, Cumming Home, Spunk, Nasty Cunt and Hanging Udderz magazines, also for very good money per layout. I've sold a set of me fucking her ass to Anal Queens, Ass4U, Up Mine, Quantum Anus and Butt Busters magazines, all for the going standard price. Other sets culled from shoots with other women where Gia got involved have sold to Girl-On-Girl, Hot Lesbians, and Gay Girlz. Some out of the same sets which included the two women and me have sold to Multiple Lovers and Threesomes All. Gia has been shocked at the amount of money she has made from selling pictures of us fucking. She really has become an anal queen because she now loves it more than being fucked in her pussy. She was totally amazed when pictures I shot of me giving her an enema before we fucked her in the ass sold to Butt Busters for more than any other layout I had submitted. I still had layouts in the hands of Asses Anonymous, Cock Lovers, Latin Pussies, Cum Lovers, Fun-Loving Housewives, Nursing Mothers, Lactation Haven, Cooze for Dudes, and Wild Cunt and Cock magazines and I anticipated that all would buy the layouts sooner or later. Estella, Esteban and Maria frequently come up to visit me after school on days when I don't have a photo shoot in progress. Gia comes up on those evenings after she gets home from work, fixes dinner for the kids and nurses Esteban. In the months since our first encounter, I have made almost five thousand stills of her or us and have enough videos of us screwing to make an entire porno library. I have installed a childproof Dutch door across my stairway so that Esteban can play in the loft while Gia and I work or fuck and we don't have to worry about him. I've added some furniture and view blocks around my personal living space that makes it harder for the kids to get into, so that Gia and I can have some privacy and the kids won't get into my developing photos. I put in an extra-large sand box in the playground. A friend of mine put together a pipe jungle gym that has kept the kids busy for hours. I added a huge playground swing set with a long circular slide in the far end of the building; the old high ceilings had to be good for something! The kids really love my playground equipment now, more than ever. Even at that, I am still continuing my career as a photographer of females, specializing in nudes and sexual situation photography. Being a master of hypnosis has greatly enhanced both my career and my sex life because very few of the women came to me expecting to engage in intercourse but rather to have their nude bodies captured on film. I've had similar experiences with many more ladies, most of whom have been referred to me by one magazine or another or picked up on one of my advertisements in the Yellow Pages or the sports section of the two major local papers. I've never sold a layout to one of the more popular magazines like Playboy or Penthouse but there are an unending series of porno magazines out there that are willing to buy from a less well-known artist like me. In a way that was to my advantage because the models I got to work with and subsequently fuck suited my personal tastes more than their usual types did. I liked the women with huge boobs and big butts and I liked the more amicable facial expressions of my models than the unapproachable look of the Playboy and Penthouse girls. I'm not knocking those women but I could never picture myself getting lucky enough to get into a piece like that. My skills with the little gold fob on my camera lens have given me access to all but one of the pussies that I have shot, meaning that I have 'shot' those pussies in more ways than one. I have had multiple pieces of all of them except two, including the one that for some reason I was unable to neither hypnotize nor get her to succumb to my "natural charms" and another that informed me she had an STD. Otherwise whether married or with a boyfriend or simply single has not affected my access to all these wonderful women. My biggest regret right now is that I have this fantasy about being part of a double team on certain ladies. I really don't have a friend that I'd feel comfortable asking to join me in this endeavor but I was wondering ... would you be interested? The End Photographs Ch. 08 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. ***** The next evening they made the pizza together for their belated pizza night. Christie let him do most of the work, teaching him how to make a bread dough and how to make a pizza sauce. "This sauce is best if it is done early in the day and allowed to cook," she explained, "but we were both a bit distracted the past two mornings. Here, put a half teaspoon of this in there." While he stirred and added ingredients, she frequently looked up at him with so much love and desire, he had to stop and kiss her cheek before he could go on. He wanted her to himself, and even though he already hated Steve, his anger at the man who had raised him grew exponentially, a hot, hard knot in his chest. "Why can't you leave Dad?" he asked. The hand she raised to reach for the spices paused and then resumed pulling a jar of oregano from the shelf. "Maybe I should tell you," she said. "You're going to have to be very good at keeping secrets, especially from Steve." She handed him the jar. "Teaspoon," she said, "but crush it between your hands as you add it to the pot." "I think we're both pretty good at that already." "Sometimes I wonder. Not letting on about what he sees just adds information to Steve's arsenal, to be saved up and used later. Some things, though, like the thought of my infidelity, make him completely irrational, and he'll go off on extremes. I'm more worried about him finding out about that, but you knowing about the blackmail shifts the balance of power, although I'm not certain which direction." "Power," he said. "Steve wants control. He wants not only to possess me but to bend me to his will. But he wants mostly to do that by either coercion or force. It's not just that he succeeds in getting to me, but the method he uses to do it and how badly I don't want it." She held up another jar. "Last one. Put in a teaspoon." "The night I saw you together, he said something about not using a professional because they wanted it." "Right." "So he likes to force women." She froze. "I worry about it, sometimes. What other women might be out there." "Do you think there are others?" She bit her lip. "I can't tell. He leaves no clues. All I know is that when he comes back from his monthly trip, he is either cold and distant, like there is a simmering frustration that he's too controlled to show, or he's mellow and content and almost seems like a normal person. If he's cold, he starts beating me earlier in the month before the next trip, sometimes as soon as he comes back." "He could be a rapist," Danny whispered. "I could easily see that." Christie shrugged and spread her arms in frustration. Her voice pained, she said, "I know, and there's nothing I can do about it. I couldn't ask him. It would just antagonize him and make things worse for me, and he wouldn't tell me anyway. I've tried to find his stash for years and years, but no luck." "Stash?" "Where he's keeping his evidence, all his photographs. The man is so sickly meticulous and careful. I've followed him, but he's so paranoid, he sees me. I've put trackers on his car, but he discovers them before I learn anything useful. Obviously he's checking. I've gone to the extreme of lifting floorboards and crawling through the attic, and using a metal detector in the yard. I managed to get a key to his office and I took that apart. Twice. I need to find that stash." "Do you think, maybe, you could tell me why?" She looked down at the boiling pot of sauce. "Turn that down to simmer and put a cover on it. We'll talk." First taking glasses from the cabinet, she went to the refrigerator to get the pitcher of iced tea. "This is a long story," she said as she walked to the breakfast nook. "Sit." When Danny was seated across from her, she began, "I first want you to understand that this is not my secret, but by keeping it I've implicated myself in a crime. I've sacrificed and suffered to keep your uncles safe, and I expect no less from you if I tell you this. Do you understand me?" "Yes, absolutely." "Promise you will say not one word of this to a living soul." "I promise." "That includes the people I'm telling you about." "Okay." She nodded sharply. "Okay, then. From the beginning." She thought for a moment about where to start. "Andreas Fulton was a friend of your Uncle Mike from kindergarten. They were very close when they were younger, less so as they moved up in grade school, but still hung out together a lot all through high school." "Wasn't Dad a friend, too?" "He moved into the neighborhood when I was ten and he was twelve. Your dad and Andy, they really became fast friends. They were always together. Mike was sort of a third wheel when he was with them, although they seemed to get along fine. Mike once told me that Steve and Andy went off and did things together that they wouldn't tell him about, things he wasn't included in. It made him feel a little hurt, and I think he wasn't any more immune to Andy's charisma than I was - or Sean, or my mom and dad. Steve was..." She smiled a little ruefully. "He was just so easy to overlook. But Andy was charming to the core, and so handsome. God, I had a crush on Andy. At the time I thought he was just my type. He charmed everybody. We'd go to the crazy lady next door for cookies or granola bars, and he'd always coax an extra one out of her. His own mother spoiled him terribly. But the thing was, if you really watched them, particularly when they thought you weren't looking, there was something sly and manipulative about both of them. It was as if the coaxing and the charming was very deliberate, planned. Once I was at Andy's house and was watching his mother get him a snack that he asked for, and for a moment I thought she looked afraid. Then I just brushed the idea off. I was totally bamboozled like everyone else. I was crazy about Andy. He was exactly what I wanted in a boy. When I finally had my eyes opened, it was too late to protect me." She bit her lower lip. How much pain could have been prevented if she had only seen them for the predators they really were? She remembered Andy coming into the house after playing basketball on the driveway, his skin glowing. He was huge and dark and handsome, and full of smiles that seemed to be just for her. When she was younger, he would pinch her cheek and call her pumpkin. As she got older, his smiles really were just for her, or so she believed. She now vehemently wished they hadn't been. "The three of them were all in the same year at school. The year they were seniors, I was a sophomore. Christmas of that school year, the apartment complex where Andy lived burned to the ground. Novena candles, they think. Andy's mom died. They didn't know who his father was, and there were no surviving records to find his other relatives. He only knew he had some people in Jamaica that his mother didn't like to talk about. You know how kind and generous your grandparents are. They took in Andy without hesitation." Christie picked up her iced tea and drank half of it. She sat and stared at the glass. Danny didn't know if he should say something or not, so he kept quiet. "Everything was great for a month or so. I was in heaven, having THE Andreas Fulton living in my house. All the girls at school were incredibly jealous. Then one day... It was February and the weather was unusually warm. I had this crazy idea of playing croquet on the back lawn. I hadn't done it for years. We kept the gear in the loft of the garage. You know that wooden ladder that leads up to where old crud is stored?" "I remember cousin Teresa daring me to go up there when I was five, and then when I did, telling me there were black widow spiders." "Right," she said and laughed. "I think there were. You were so frozen with fear Steve had to carry you down the ladder." She sobered. "Anyway, I was up there, and I got distracted by an old box of Grandma's sewing magazines. I was very quiet when Steve and Andy came in. I was also hidden behind a pile of boxes, so they neither saw or heard me. And they were obviously trying to be quiet. Talking in hushed voices. I peeked, and saw they had beer and some magazines. I decided to stay where I was until they left. I was curious about why they were trying to be so secretive and wanted to spy on them. They started drinking, and to my virginal fifteen-year-old horror, I saw the magazines were porn." Danny laughed. "Seniors in high school who like looking at porn. I can't imagine that." "You never have, of course." "No, of course not," he said. Christie narrowed her eyes at him, but said only, "Hush now. This is the important part." She paused to get her bearings. "They were looking at the magazines, and then Andy held one up to show Steve, and said, 'Dude, I would love to tie this bitch up.' I was still trying to wrap my brain around this while Steve looked at the picture and said, 'I like it better when they can fight back.' Then Andy said, 'You do like to fuck a bitch up.' I actually gasped, and then clapped my hand over my mouth. I think the beer must have been working by then, because fortunately, neither heard me." She thought about it. "Maybe not fortunately. Maybe nothing would ever have happened if they knew I had heard. Anyway, what Steve said next killed every last fond feeling I had for either of them. He said, 'I know who you want to fuck up. Christie.' And Andy made Steve admit that he wanted me, too. They talked about it. How I was too good and would never go with either of them. They agreed that they would have to force me in some way. The last thing they said on the subject was Steve making Andy promise that if he ever forced me to have sex, Steve would get to be the one to hold me down." Christie placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Even to this day, she could remember the shock of betrayal in a visceral way. She could see the dim, dusty loft, the two boys furtively adjusting themselves through their pants as their cocks grew hard. The smell of the beer. She had cried silently, dizzy and lightheaded from the effort to breath without making a noise while choking on sobs. With that conversation, Andy and Steve had ripped away a piece of her innocence. "Did they find you?" Danny asked as her silence drew on. "No. They finished their beer and jerked off to the magazines. They must have done it before, because they seemed perfectly comfortable in doing it in front of each other." She shook her head. "Things they shared that did not include Uncle Mike. Thank god. "I remained up there for a long time after they left, trying to figure out what to do. I finally decided to tell Mike. Andy was living in our house and wanted to force me to have sex with him. Someone needed to know. I told Mike what they said - God that was an awkward conversation - and bless his heart, he believed me. There had been rumors." "What rumors?" "That Steve and Andy would deliberately get a girl drunk at a party and then take her somewhere. What they did with her was just assumed, but no girl ever came out and complained. It's like they didn't remember. Rohypnol, probably." "What did Uncle Mike do?" "We discussed it over a couple of days, and decided to visit Sean and get his advice. Andy had no place to go, and he actually hadn't done anything, so we weren't sure what was appropriate. I mean, if not for the parties, we could have written it off as two teenagers drinking and talking shit. Until we could figure it out, I was warned never to be alone in the house with Andy." "But you were." She nodded. "I had seen them on a Tuesday. It was the Friday of that same week. Mike went to sleep over at Sean's apartment and to talk it over with him. Which is ironic, isn't it? Both of us forgot that that particular Friday was my parents' monthly date night and they would be out very late. I came home from dance class at 5:30 to find no one but Andy in the house. I always poured myself a glass of iced tea when I first came home. Always. I drank it while I decided where to go. The last thing I remember was heading for the phone to call Sean to come get me. The next thing I knew, it was Saturday morning and I was in the hospital. My parents were there and the police. There was a lot of talking and questions until I started to cry and my parents made everyone leave me alone." "What happened to Andy?" "He was gone. Disappeared." "Did they catch him?" "He was never found." "So..." He frowned. "How do they know what happened if he was gone and you don't remember it?" Instead of answering, she got up to put more ice in her glass. "More?" she asked him. He held out his glass for her. When she sat down again, she had the words right in her head. "This is the official version: Mike remembered date night and ran home to get me. He found me in my room, naked on my bed, with blood all over the place. Some girls just bleed a lot their first time, and I was one of them. He also raped me anally, and I guess he didn't prepare at all, and he was real big, so he tore me there and that produced some blood too. Mike freaked out and threw a blanket over me and took me to the hospital. The police were called from there. "When they searched for him, Andy was nowhere to be found. His stuff was gone from his room, and he was never seen again. They found the iced tea with the Rohypnol in it. Lucky no one else in the family drank it; he doped the entire pitcher. "The theory was that he had intended to rape me, clean me up, maybe put me in the bath, and then tuck me into bed with no one, including me, being the wiser. He could have made up a story about me not feeling well when I got home. Whatever. The point is, he could have gotten away with it if he was careful. But he got careless and tore my anus, and there was so much blood, there would be no way to hide it." "Don't you think you would have realized someone had sex with you?" "I don't know, Danny. I was so sheltered and innocent, even if I was sore the next day, with all the dancing I did, I might have just figured I worked out too hard. I just don't know. Andy had some problems with impulse control, and maybe he just didn't care. Whatever the case, Andy was gone. The case remained open, but the statute of limitations has run out now, and no one cares except my parents. They felt very betrayed and taken advantage of. They still talk about it sometimes." She smiled fondly at him. "Although they are very glad we have you." Danny drank off the last of his tea. "I'm kind of glad, too." He lifted the pitcher. "Should we make more?" "Start the kettle." "So that was the official story, what is the real one?" Danny asked as he filled the kettle. This was the difficult part of the story. Although it was a hard, traumatic experience, and she still felt insecure and violated afterward, Christie had no memories of the rape to haunt her. Instead, she was consumed with not knowing, with wondering how she had behaved while she was with Andy. Did she enjoy it? Did the drug make her a willing participant in her own rape? After a month had passed, Steve came along to fill in some of the gaps. "It was just a day or two after I found out I was pregnant, when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, Steve showed up with some photographs. You remember how I said he wanted to be the one who held me down? Instead he photographed the whole thing." "Do you think he raped you, too?" The kettle whistled, saving her from answering right away. Danny got up again, and began preparing the tea. "Do you?" he asked. "Yeah," she admitted. "I married my rapist. He never admitted it, and there was no DNA evidence tying anybody but Andy to it, but I think he just had the sense enough to wear a condom. Anyway, there were two series of photographs. The first showed me naked on the bed, Andy raping me in the ass. I was crying. It must have hurt a lot. I know I was uncomfortable enough the next day. The next photo, Mike is rushing in the door. This was taken from outside the room, so I'm surmising that Steve heard him coming and ducked out, but Andy was so preoccupied, he never saw him. Then Mike had his arm wrapped around Andy's neck, dragging him off me. Andy was huge, like you, but Mike, even at eighteen, was big too. More, he was a wrestler in school, and brawler outside of it. There was another photo of both boys on the ground, struggling, Mike choking the life out of Andy with his forearm around his throat. Literally. Your Uncle Mike choked Andy to death." Silence ruled the kitchen after that bomb detonated. Danny's mouth hung open, the tea forgotten. It took a while for him to shut his mouth and turn back to the counter and stare vacantly at the tea bags and kettle. "What happened next?" "The next thing was Mike panicking. You see, he had just turned eighteen, and while he hadn't had any trouble, there were a lot of fights at school before that, and some public drunkenness." She sighed. "Mike was definitely the black sheep. He gave Mom and Dad no end of grief." "But it was an accident. Wasn't it?" "I believe so. Mike loved to fight, but he rarely did it with any real anger." "What does he say about it?" "He doesn't know I know." "You never told him that Steve had photographs?" he asked, his voice rising with shock. "Why?" "I'll get to that. Let me tell you my story." She pointed a finger at the counter. "Make the tea before the water gets cold." He turned back to the counter but most of his attention was on Christie. "So?" "What I know for certain he did was call Sean. You see, the next series of photos was of Sean, digging a hole and burying Andy's body." "Shit. I can see Uncle Mike doing that - he's kind of rough around the edges - but Uncle Sean has his shit together." "I know. He was studying criminal justice when this happened. Both of them were just so stupid. It was clearly a crime of passion, and maybe even unintentional. I don't know what was going through their heads. Knowing what I know now, as a lawyer, I think Mike would have got off very easy. It takes a lot longer than you would think to choke someone to death, so intent might have been murky. He might not have got off scot-free, but I don't think he would have seen any hard time. Sean should have known this." She shook her head. "We all were so young. I had been sheltered unbelievably. Mike was hotheaded and prone to panic and overreact. What you have to understand is how close my family is. If Mike panicked and begged Sean to cover it up, Sean would have. They would do almost anything for each others' sake, and I would do almost anything for theirs. "So when Steve told me he wanted me to date him, and would send the photos to the police if I didn't, I decided to agree." "Wouldn't the police have arrested him?" "A few photographs and an anonymous note would have sunk both of them. And even if I pointed the finger at Steve, there would be no proof." "So, he used this both to get you to date him, and then later to get you to marry him." "Yes. No one in my family understood it. Part of the deal was that I never tell anyone, including Mike and Sean. My mom never understood why I went through with the wedding after crying myself to sleep the night before." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Danny." "Why?" "I was so young, and still so naive. One of the reasons I agreed was because I thought that at least you would have a father. A real family with a mom and dad, not living with your grandparents. It never occurred to me what it would do to you to be raised by someone like him." Photographs Ch. 08 He came over, knelt down beside her chair, and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his cheek against her breast. "I had you, Mom. You were always wonderful to me. You're the reason I didn't turn out like him." She brushed her face against his hair. "You are pretty special," she whispered. "I must have done something right." Christie raised her head and Danny said, "You got wiser, though." "I certainly did." She sat up and straightened her spine. "One thing your father understood from the beginning, because I made him, was that there were things that could push me into defying him regardless of the consequences. If he ever harmed you in any way, physically or emotionally, it would have been all over." "So he was allowed to hurt you but not anybody else." "Danny, don't go there." "No, I want to understand. You let him beat you up several times a month, but he can't touch me or your brothers." She sighed. "It was part of the agreement. And it started so gradually that I was used to it by the time it got as bad as it is now." "But it's okay," he persisted. He rose from the floor and took his chair. "Okay, maybe I let myself be used a little bit like a doormat-" Danny snorted. "Okay, a lot like a doormat, but still, your father understood that I needed a certain amount of freedom. We MacAwleys are headstrong. An attempt to control me utterly probably would have backfired. I had that, at least. I had my career. I have income and respect. If I ever find those damned photos and the negatives, I'll be able to leave him without being financially dependent on the kindness of my family. I just need to find those damn photos!" "When was the last time you really seriously tried to find them?" Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot when she admitted, "It's been a couple years since I've made a serious effort. I've run out of ideas." "If you haven't for a while, maybe it's time to start again. Maybe he's gotten lazy and a car tracker might slip by." "I'm sure he still has the device that detects GPS trackers. I know he transferred it from the Ford to the Lincoln he got two years ago." "I'll think about it. A different mind thinking about it might be what you need." Christie smiled a little. She didn't feel very hopeful, but she allowed him to think he could help. Photographs Ch. 09 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. Two years passed. Danny and Christie made love when they could and fucked like monkeys when Steve was on his trips. They also spent a great deal of time together, both in public and at home, whether Steve was away or not. Movies, concerts, sight-seeing in Tiajuana or up the coast, trips to the beach. They kept it casual, refrained from touching each other in public, and if they ran into acquaintances they always invited them to join in their party, as if they weren't actually on a date. It didn't matter. They were still spending time together, building memories, sharing experiences they would discuss or remember later. Christie knew that it was far different than the relationship of a normal mother and twenty-year-old son. She only hoped no one noticed. The royals went to Asia, and Steve followed on his annual three-week paparazzi trip. Christie and Danny decided for the first time in the two years they had been sleeping together to make a long weekend out of town, and to travel as a couple. Christie used her married name, Tyler, while Danny had been christened with her maiden name, MacAwley. It helped that ethnically, they looked nothing alike. "I guess I'm a cougar on this trip," Christie said as they entered their hotel room. "You're always a cougar." "I am not. I never look at other young men." "I saw you checking out the bellboy." "He had toilet paper stuck to his shoe." Danny laughed and heaved her stuffed suitcase onto an arm chair. She chose a luxurious hotel in Flagstaff, Arizona, near the Grand Canyon. The floors were pinkish beige tile, cool under bare feet in the desert heat. The decor was light and spare, pale beige accented with blues and greens. When she pulled back the heavy, heat-blocking curtains from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the room was flooded with golden afternoon light. This place, being there openly with Danny, made her feel like she was flying free. Danny felt it, too, she could see by the grin he gave her as he picked her up and they kissed, her toes not quite touching the floor. "Put me down. You'll strain something and I want you whole this weekend." "I want you naked this weekend. Shut those curtains again." She turned around after pulling the last curtain shut and found him already naked, clothes strewn across the floor. He unbuttoned half of the buttons of her blouse and then yanked it over her head and threw it on the floor. "Don't you want to freshen up?" she asked. "Nope. I want you." Her bra followed her blouse. "Maybe I want to freshen up." "Hygiene is for the birds." They kissed while he expertly unzipped her skirt and drew it down over her hips, taking her panties along with it. Once she was naked, he pushed her down on her back onto the bed and spread her knees. "Ever heard of foreplay?" she asked. "Afterplay," he said. "And I'll bet you twenty dollars you are already hot and wet for me." She laughed. "I'd lose that bet. On your back." Danny obliged, rolling onto his back and pulling her down over him. She lowered herself onto his cock slowly, and stopped there, her eyes closed, face tilted up to expose her long pale neck. He would never tire of seeing her like this, legs spread to widen her hips, narrow waist, breasts hanging over him. It made his heart full to see her. "Hmmm," she sighed as she began to move up and down on his shaft. "This is nice." "Nice? Just nice? Shouldn't we--ah!" She did something inside, squeezing him impossibly tighter. "Aim higher?" he said in a squeaky voice. She continued to squeeze rhythmically as she raised and lowered herself. It was similar to when she came, but slower and lasted longer. Danny pulled her down until he could suck her nipples into his mouth and kiss her lips. His hands roved her back, gripping her long hair. For a time the only sounds were their small sighs and the rhythmic noises of their fucking. Then he bit her low on the neck, sucking at the spot to make a love bite. Christie cried out and came, saying his name. Soon after he was spurting his cum into her, pulse after pulse of it until he was spent. Christie swayed above him for a few seconds, and then collapsed onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her there for a long time. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you," she whispered back. He never tired of saying it, never tired of hearing her say it in return. Throughout the month, while they kept up their normal relationship in front of Steve, they said it daily in that perfunctory way mother and child often do. All too seldom did they get to say it like this, romantically, as lovers. Two years they had lived like this, and while he was happier than he had ever been, he wanted more. They had to find a way out of her marriage. For now, though, he was content. He pushed her over onto her back. "What's this?" she asked. "Afterplay." He spread her legs apart and kissed her inner thigh, licking the smooth skin. With his fingers he ruffled the neatly trimmed curls of her mound, pressing slightly on the folds over her clit. He had asked her once if she would shave and from the heat of her refusal he learned one thing: never ask again. Even Steve hadn't been able to coerce that out of her. He drew his tongue up the outside her slit from bottom to top. He did it again. And again. He loved the smell, pungent but clean, and the salty-sweet taste of her, mixed with the acrid taste of his own cum. "I'll never get over the way you like to lick me when I'm full of your cum." She was already very sensitive from having just come, and she began to squirm each time he reached the top and flicked his tongue near her clitoris. He laughed a little. Slowly each stroke went higher, closer to her clit, until he was circling it, but not quite covering it. "Danny," she said, not quite begging. He teased some more, going back to tonguing her entire slit. "Danny, please." He laughed again and returned to her clit, enveloping it in his mouth this time, briefly sucking on it, her curls tickling his face. There was something he wanted to try, so he wouldn't let her come too quickly. While he continued to tease her clit, he slipped two fingers into her. Christie moved her hips, trying to fuck his fingers. He fingered her g-spot and began to suck on her sensitive little nub. When he thought she was very close, he removed his cum-soaked fingers from inside her and moved them downward to her anus. He pressed her small hole for only seconds, before she could think to protest, and gently shoved his forefinger inside. "Danny!" "Shhhh, Christie. Just try it. That's all. Does it hurt? I'll stop if it hurts." "It... It doesn't hurt." "Does it feel good?" He resumed sucking on her clit, now gently fucking her asshole with his finger. Christie was quiet for some time, her writhing and moaning temporarily ceased. She could feel the gentle scrape of his fingernail, but other than that, it mostly felt good. "Two fingers," she a few minutes later. "Two." Her hips started to rock again. Christie clutched the bedspread in her fists to either side of her body. "More, Danny!" She groaned. "I'm going to come, Danny." She bucked violently, and Danny worked faster, sucking and nipping at her clit and fucking her ass with his fingers more quickly, harder and deeper. In a moment she came. Danny licked a little longer, only stopping when she begged him to. He crawled up beside her and held her in his arms. "Danny," she said when her breathing returned to normal. "I don't think I can do any more than that." Christie had told him that in addition to the violent penetration Andy had inflicted upon her during the rape, Steve had also forced her to have anal sex. When she had refused, one of the few things she wouldn't give him automatically because of the blackmail, he had taken her ass forcibly. He had raped his wife, as if their entire sex life wasn't already a type of rape. Her fear of anal sex was now absolute, and suddenly he felt like a monster for asking for it. "I won't ask again, Christie." "But you want it. I can tell." "And you're traumatized and I am a total shithead for asking for it." "I would try it if it would make you happy. If we could take it slow. I've read about it. If you're careful it's supposed to feel good." Her voice was doubtful. "You're awfully big." He squeezed her tight and gave her a kiss on the cheek out of frustration. "When are you going to realize that what you want matters? Hmm? You matter, Christie. You matter very much to me and to many other people, but not to yourself." She didn't respond to that. Only rested against him for a while before asking, "My turn?" "Naw. I want to hold you for a while." "Okay. I'll be the lazy one today," she said and snuggled her face into his chest. "You went down on me before we left today." "True, but you never can get enough." He laughed. "Am I too virile for you?" "I'm reaching my peak years. I'll be insatiable." "You already are." Now she laughed. "You know those monkeys we saw in that documentary, who fuck all the time? That's us." Although they were both eager to see Flagstaff, they had driven all day from Los Angeles, and wanted to rest up and be ready for hiking in the Grand Canyon tomorrow. They ordered room service, used the jacuzzi, where Danny got his blow job, and bought a movie to watch while sitting naked together in bed. Christie had brought microwave popcorn, and she made it while the news came on, then settled back to sitting up in bed with him. "Do you think this relationship is making you more mature, or making me regress?" she asked as she tossed a kernel in the air for Danny to catch in his mouth. He missed it, picked it up off the pillow, and fed it to her. "Regressing. Totally." "Yes," she sighed with mock sadness. "Soon I'll be going to court barefoot, in a Pink concert t-shirt and torn jeans." "Would it be a tight t-shirt?" She elbowed him lightly. "You're such a guy." He caught the kernel this time and she leaned own to give him a quick kiss.. "Definitely tight, and one of those short ones that show your belly," he said. "And the jeans will be low-cut so you almost see my crack in back. And I'll have a tramp stamp." "And it will say 'Property of Danny.'" She giggled. "We'll have to settle for 'Taken.'" He bared a bicep. "Then I'll get a big red heart that says 'Mom.'" "Don't you ever get a tattoo." "I know. You hate tat-- What was that?" he said, staring at the TV. "What?" "Shhhh. Listen." "--employers are now using cell phone spy software to track traveling employees. One major cable network has spy software installed on all company cell phones to track the whereabouts of personnel out on service calls. Parents have also found cell phone spy software useful to see if their children are really at the best friend's house overnight." They listened to the rest of the segment, then Christie grabbed the remote and turned the sound down. "I wonder if he'd be able to detect if it's on there." She wore a big grin on her face. For six months after they started having sex, Christie and Danny had put their heads together, but had come up with few new ideas. Danny did have the idea of making a property search, but they found no unknown properties listed in Steve's name. They tried trackers on his car again, but he found them the same day. Bugs in his office produced hours of boring conversations punctuated with the sound of shutters clicking, which Christie had warned Danny would be the results. But this... "This could work," Danny said. "What I heard at first was them saying it was unobtrusive." "If we could make it run in the background, he might go a long time before he finds it. He never shuts the phone off, and he's religious about keeping it charged, so we might be able to put it on there, start it running, and not have to do anything else." "Damn. We have to get that software, no matter what the price." ##### Steve returned from Asia, happy and exhausted. He came to Christie's bed eagerly, but only wanted straight sex, and immediately returned to his own room to sleep. They were able to install the software on his phone the first night. For two weeks afterward they were glued to the monitor, cataloging his whereabouts. The portrait studio every day, home for dinner every evening, then weekends of hopping from place to place following celebrities from movie premiers to night clubs to late-night parties, and then sometimes to private homes. One night he went to Bel Air, saying he was going to try to crash a celebrity party, but his phone only stayed there half an hour before moving to an address on the outskirts of the city. Christie, who was at the computer that night, went upstairs to get Danny from his room. "Studying on a Friday night?" she asked him when she saw him sprawled on his bed with a textbook in his hand. "We're going to Berkley tomorrow for a game," he said without looking up from his book. Danny had elected to play college basketball, trying out and earning a place on the UCLA team. He was doing well, moving to varsity in his sophomore year and getting court time every game, but he found the combination of basketball practice and pre-med grueling. "Well then, I'll have to investigate this interesting development on my own." He looked up. "What development? Did he go somewhere?" he asked, sitting up straight. "Well, I just pulled up the satellite image." She smiled wickedly and her eyes shone. "It's a storage area." Danny jumped off the bed. "Is he still there?" "Probably. It would be best to scope the place out while he's there. That's the easiest way to find out which unit he's using." She sat down on his bed. "I'll go. You can tell him I went out with some guys from the team. I do that often enough. I'll be sure to come back late enough to make it plausible." "Yes!" She made shooing motions. "Go. Go." ##### Christie watched the tracking software for three hours, but knew it was futile. Steve left the storage area forty-five minutes after Danny drove off, and the drive would have taken him at least an hour. So close, she thought, slumped before the computer. She had sent a text to Danny to tell him not to waste his time. From the storage area, Steve went back to the house in Bel Air and then came home. She turned off the computer when he turned onto their street, and went to her room to be in bed when he entered the house. Several minutes later Steve summoned her to his studio, locking them in together. He took her on the floor, bound and gagged, and beat her with the strap until she was red from shoulder to thigh, and then brought out the cane again. Christie didn't fight this time, and hadn't more than twice in the two years since Danny witnessed her torture at her husband's hands. Before she lost the ability to think, as she crouched on the floor on hands and knees with the cane bearing down on her ass, Christie had the feeling that the night's episode was staged. Steve posed her. "Collapse onto the floor," he told her. When she complied, he gripped her hips roughly and pulled her back up. In the morning she would have finger-shaped bruises there. "Now try to crawl away," he said after the cane hit her for the fifth time. He somehow managed to control himself, even while in the throes of intense arousal. Steve grunted almost as loud as she did, and once he even moaned. Still, he almost never broke the skin. She dragged herself across the rough carpet until Steve pounced on her. The cane flew across the room. Steve hurriedly rolled on a condom he had held him his palm the entire time, and then he was fucking her roughly from behind. Steve wanted a child with her, and only used condoms during the worst beatings, his personal rape fantasy. A dress rehearsal, but for what? Christie had endured too much humiliation to feel it very often, but pain would never die. Her mind gave up trying to pierce the red haze her thoughts had become. Steve fucked her from behind, shoving her body forward with each fierce thrust. Her body soldiered on, but her mind surrendered. She forgot about rape fantasies and simply survived. ##### Later, Steve slept, sated and satisfied; she heard his snores through his bedroom door. Christie had stumbled to her room when he untied and left her, shaking but dry-eyed on the studio floor. For an hour or two, she dozed on her stomach in her bed. She lay naked and without covers, her back in too much pain to bear even the weight of a sheet. Hearing Danny enter, she took the risk of going to his room. Already looking dejected from not catching Steve at the storage area, his face fell even further when he saw the antibiotics in her hand. "Lie down," he said, pulling her gently to the bed and removing the robe she had worn for her trip down the hall. He shoved aside the books and papers still lying there and helped her onto her stomach. "The good news is he didn't hit your back this time," he said softly as he opened antibiotics. "The bad news is this he didn't manage to miss a single square inch of skin with the strap." "Believe me, I know," she said in a voice hoarse from screaming. "Ice?" he asked. "Not tonight." "You should. You'll heal faster." "I know, but he's here and I'm just too tired." Slow and gentle hands spread the ointment across her inflamed skin. "He's getting worse, Christie." "I know." "We have to get you out of this marriage, and we need to right away." "I know," she said softly. "I feel like things are spinning out of control with him. Do you think he suspects?" Danny shook his head. "Not us, but I think he might suspect there's someone. When was the last time you checked for bugs?" "Two days ago." "I think we need to do it every day, and assume he hears us if we haven't. "Okay. I agree." He brushed aside her long dark curls to bare her upper back. Bending down, he placed a lingering kiss on the nape of her neck. "Stop. Don't even be tempted," she whispered. So he talked to her while he smoothed the ointment over her back and buttocks, taking his time, working slowly to make these moments last. He talked about his friends and his studies, basketball, but only the happy things. The good grades and triumphs on the court. Jokes he'd heard. Even if she didn't laugh at them, they helped. Lit only by a bedside lamp, his room felt like a soft cocoon, the outside world and all their current problems fading away. She started to doze. Regretfully, he had to wake her, and he did so by kneeling by the bed to bring his face level with hers, and kissing her cheek. "Time to go," he said quietly. She nodded sleepily but managed to rouse herself. After checking the hall, he held the door open for her. "Don't lose hope, Christie," he said. "We're close." And in that moment, he really believed it. ###### Two days later, their world fell apart: Christie found a bug in her bedroom, just one, a bug obviously missed from a previous search. It was taped to the back of her headboard, silently emitting signals to a receiver that could be as far as a block away. Christie had poked around the neighborhood, but never found it. Wherever it was, it had to be a place Steve would go anyway, because the phone tracker had not shown him visiting anywhere unusual. Photographs Ch. 09 Christie sat on the edge of her bed, holding the now crushed bug in her hand, and tried not to panic. It drew her eyes again and again, this little piece of plastic and wire that held the power to destroy everything she held dear. She tried to think of how exposed they might be, and what she should do if they were. She had swept for bugs on Wednesday and found them all over the house, but missed this one. She had missed it on Saturday as well. The signal was cutting in and out, and weak enough that her detector didn't sense it twice, and even a third time while he held it in her hand. The small device was probably malfunctioning. Maybe it didn't catch anything; maybe it did. The fact was, Christie and Danny had sex in her room on Thursday night while Steve was out. Even if the bug only caught bits and pieces, Steve could possibly have enough information to figure out what was going on. Danny was still traveling from Berkley. Steve was at his studio, doing who knew what. She had time to act. First sending a text to Danny telling him to meet her at his Uncle Sean's home, she went to pack. In Danny's room she threw clothing into his duffel bag. He had a small bag with him that would have essentials, and most of his textbooks. She gathered up what she could find of the rest and dumped them atop the clothing. Zipping the bag, she carried it to her own room. There she grabbed a small suitcase and stuffed it with jeans and t-shirts, underwear and socks. Sensible clothing and toiletries. Riffling through the desk turned up passports and extra credit cards. She was just glancing around the room, trying to see if she had missed anything, when she heard the rattle of the garage door opener coming to life. No time! She couldn't lug around all this gear and still escape, so she grabbed her purse and raced for the front door, hoping to slip out while Steve was coming in through the garage. She almost made it. "Christie," Steve said as he rounded the corner from the kitchen to the entry hall. The scariest thing about it was that he didn't yell, didn't scream, didn't express anything but a an icy calm. In that tone, though, she heard his awareness of what she'd done. She had her hand on the deadbolt. That close. She twisted the bolt open, thinking that if she managed to get outside, he wouldn't want the neighbors to hear. But hands seized her from behind. Steve yanked her away from the door and threw her into the wall. She tried to slip sideways to reach the door, but tripped over the brass umbrella stand. It rolled sideways with a clang and spilled umbrellas over the floor. "Who was it Christie? My bug caught you. You were in bed with somebody. Who was it?" Her relief that he didn't know it was Danny only lasted a moment. Steve grabbed her by the front of her shirt. Then, even with all the beatings he had delivered over the years, he hit her for the first time in the face, a hard, open-handed slap that sent her sprawling. She tasted blood from the corner of her mouth. Christie, on all fours now, scrambled for the door across the cold tile, trying to rise. Steve bent over her and hit her with his fists this time, on her right kidney, and again on her ribs. She collapsed to the floor. Doubled over by the pain, she let him roll her to hit her more on the face and abdomen. She had known that Steve had incredible self-control, but she didn't realize how much he held back until this moment, when he let it all go. Her face, her ribs, her stomach, he punched them all with equal ferocity. She heard a snap when he hit her on the upper chest. "Who was it?" he screamed. "It was Ralph, wasn't it?" Christie was fit and reasonably strong, but she was no fighter. She had scrappled with Steve on a few occasions when she decided to defend herself. None of those experiences prepared her for this. She tried, raking him with her nails, reaching hands up to gouge his eyes. He evaded her easily. Powerless to defend herself, she could only roll into a ball and try to take the worst of the blows in less vital places. When he paused for a breath she moved to rise again. He shoved her down and her head hit the heavy umbrella stand. She lost consciousness for a moment. The feeling of her pants being dragged from her body roused her, but by the time she was alert enough to act, Steve already had his shaft in her and fucked her mercilessly. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, but he used his weight to pin her upper arms to the floor. Christie tried to twist and struggle. The pain from whatever he had broken in her chest was indescribable, incapacitating her. "Did he fuck you like this, Christie?" He grunted and continued, "I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill Ralph. Maybe I'll kill the brat, too. I want that to be the last thing you think about." "This is what you've wanted all along," she croaked. Her breaths came in short, painful gasps. "Isn't it? That's why you bugged the house. Not because you didn't want anyone else to have me, but because you wanted an excuse to beat the crap out of me." "I wanted you to want to be with me, but you never did. Even when you were ten." She couldn't help it. Despite the pain, despite the fact that at that very moment she was being raped by her husband, she laughed. And then his hands were on her throat. Christie, truly panicked but with her hands now free, reached out blindly for any kind of weapon. Her fingers touched fabric. An umbrella. Feeling for the handle, she could tell it was an old-fashioned one, with a tapering point at the top. It was rounded at the tip, but very narrow. Steve had his eyes focused on hers, wanting to see the light go out of her eyes. It began to, her vision narrowing. Quickly, before she could no longer see, she raised the umbrella to grasp it in shaking hands. She cried out as the broken thing in her chest moved, and stabbed him in the throat. Blood gushed. Steve fell to the side, and Christie passed out. ##### Danny received Christie's text as the team bus approached the UCLA neighborhood: Found bug. Meet at Sean's. DO NOT COME HOME! He texted back: Let me know when you are safe. He glanced around the bus. The young men were mostly sleeping, a few studied like Danny had been, others chatted. All were oblivious to the fact that his world had just come crashing down. He dialed his uncle, who told him he hadn't heard from his mother. Reluctant to explain the situation there on the bus with teammates all around, he told his uncle that his mother intended to visit and to please call him when she arrived. If she left the moment she sent the text, Christie would arrive at his uncle's house in about twenty minutes. She wouldn't look at or answer her texts until she wasn't driving, so it was reasonable not to expect a reply. He packed his books and papers back into his bag and waited. Twenty minutes passed without a phone call. He called his uncle again, but she still hadn't arrived. The bus pulled into the UCLA campus at that moment. He would have to hike to the parking garage where he left his car, and from there it took twenty minutes to home in light traffic. He had no intention of going to his uncle's house if he didn't know where his mother was. Another half hour. It would be half an hour before he would know if his mother were safe. Danny barely saw the traffic around him as he drove home. In his driveway, he raised the garage door even though he wouldn't park there. He wanted to see who was home. Both Christie's and Steve's cars sat in their spaces. The front door was unlocked. He twisted the knob quietly and eased the door open to find the bodies of his mother and father lying there in an enormous pool of blood. It covered them both. "Mom?" Horrified, he knelt in the blood at his mother's side and felt for a pulse. Her heart beat in a regular rhythm, but her breathing was uneven. After dialing 911, he checked Steve, but he had no pulse. Christie had killed him. He searched her for wounds. Most of the blood must have been Steve's, because other than her face, he found nothing bleeding. "Christie?" he said as he looked her over. "Christie?" Her eyes opened, and she smiled. "Christie?" "Safe?" "We're safe. He's dead." She nodded and grimaced. "He didn't know," she whispered. "About us?" She nodded again and closed her eyes. Danny wanted to gather his mother into his arms, but he was afraid to move her. So he knelt at her side in a pool of blood until the paramedics came. Photographs Ch. 10 DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on. For the second time in her life, Christie woke in a hospital bed with no idea of how she arrived there, but at least this time she knew why. She opened her eyes to see a shadowed ceiling, tiles blurred in her vision. The three men she loved most came into view. Danny and Sean and Mike. Too groggy to see the look of concern on their faces, she reached out her hands to them as if nothing was wrong, but everything hurt. That small movement brought to mind what had happened in the entryway. She realized she wore an oxygen mask. "Christie," Sean said. He held her hand gently. Danny took the other one. "Steve?" she whispered. "What did she say?" Mike asked. "She said 'Steve'," Sean said. "Dead," Danny said. "He's dead." "How?" She missed the look that passed between the three men. "You rest now, okay?" Sean said. Christie tried to nod, but even that was beyond her. A nurse came in then, scolding them for crowding the small room, and her brothers left. Danny refused to leave her side. ##### While Christie lay in the ICU, Sean, a Los Angeles police detective, handled everything. Danny gave him the name of one of Christie's lawyer friends, who agreed without hesitation to handle the situation. Every professional who looked at the evidence agreed the Christie had acted in self-defense, but legal council never hurt. Sean instructed everyone in the family, including her parents, who had flown down from Washington, on how to deal with the press: say nothing no matter how they provoke you. He even took care of Danny's school issues, getting him a temporary leave. His Uncle Mike made sure Danny had food and rest. In a whispered conversation during one of his meals, when Mike had dragged him to the cafeteria, Danny explained why Christie had married Steve. He told Mike and Sean about the photographs of the murder and about the storage area. He didn't mention the many times Steve had beaten Christie during the course of their marriage, but knowing that they were photographed, he suspected that if Sean and Mike found the storage area, that secret wouldn't be kept for long. It surprised him how relieved he felt to have it off his chest. Back in her room, he kept his vigil, talking with her when she was lucid, sleeping when he must, and only leaving her side when forced to. ##### The day after Steve's death, Christie spoke briefly with the police. Her parents arrived, and between them and her brothers and sisters she never seemed to have a moment to rest. Danny finally told everyone to leave and hulked over them as menacingly as a sensitive, sweet, 6'5" young man could. Considering that Sean, Mike, and her father were only a few inches shorter, he had to resort to begging. "Two years," Christie said when they were finally alone. They had replaced the mask with tubing that ran to her nose. When she had stabbed Steve, the movement shifted a cracked rib, causing it to partially collapse her lung. She wondered if she would ever be able to swim laps again. "Two years?" "We managed two years without him discovering us." "You think it was inevitable?" "Maybe." "He never really knew, though. We got very lucky." She looked down the length of the bed at her blanket-covered body and snorted. "Lucky?" "It could have been much worse." "I suppose so." She looked at him. The door was closed, so she said, "I know I'm icky right now, but please kiss me." He looked at her face, tilted his head to one side and then the other, and finally placed a kiss on her forehead, then another on her right cheek. Two spots that weren't swollen or bruised. "That'll have to do until you heal up." "You get some sleep," Christie told him. "Go home." The room was bathed in warm light, and she found the soft beep of the heart monitor somewhat comforting. "I feel okay right now." "I want to be here in case you..." "I'm not going to die, Danny." "But you might be lonely." "Sweetie, I love you, but I would like a few hours to myself." ###### What Christie thought about, lying alone in her hospital bed, was not about the attack, or having killed her husband. She thought about how close she and Danny had come to exposure. The risk might have been worth it for the happiness it had given both of them, but it did give her pause. Danny didn't deserve to live this way. No matter that he called her Christie now, and not Mom, no matter that they were lovers, some part of her would always remain his mother. That part of her needed to safeguard his welfare. The pain in her chest from the thought of losing him hurt worse than the broken ribs and collapsed lung, but she needed to face the fact that they could not go on like this. She never wanted Danny to miss out on having a normal life just because she was too selfish to let him have one. When the right time came, when he was ready, she would not force him to stay. ##### Two days after Steve attacked Christie, Sean and Mike took a few hours to deal with the storage area. "That was far too easy," Mike said as the walked out of the small office. "She was stupid and not very well trained. And the word "terrorist" and a badge still have a lot of cache these days," Sean said. They both would rather have been at the hospital, watching Christie, but they knew that if the photographs were here, they had to get to them before some clerk watched the news and connected Steve Tyler with the storage area's customers. Sean and Mike scanned the list of renters the clerk gave him. Steve Tyler was not among them. They worked through the list slowly, thinking about each name. There were two John Smiths, but the name Carlton Avery practically leaped off the page. In school, Steve had almost idolized Avery, a handsome, brilliant teen who had a habit of cutting people down in such an amusing, clever way that even the most kind-hearted laughed. Someone with great potential who was privately a sadistic bully. Steve would have probably ditched Mike and Andy for Avery's company if the boy hadn't considered Steve inferior. "Carlton Avery," Sean said to Mike. "Even I remember him." "What is the likelihood that the real Carlton Avery has a unit here?" "It would be a rather large coincidence." "We can't get in without a warrant," Sean said. Both were police officers. The laws they might be breaking could end their careers. "Steve did." "What are you talking about?" Mike pointed to the large sign that posted the storage area's hours and rules. "It closes at 9:00 p.m. on Fridays. Danny said he was here later than that." "Drive around the block," Sean said. Weeds grew at the base of the chain link surrounding the area, and in some places it sagged and was pitted with rust. Razor wire topped the fence, but no cameras protected the buildings within. The property ran the length of the entire block, with a tall gate at the back, letting out into the next street over. Mike parked the truck and they got out to investigate. A set of bolt cutters rested on the passenger seat between them. Mike picked them up and together they quietly they left his truck to find a way in, and then unit F168. If they hadn't been trying to be inconspicuous by parking the truck half a block away, they never would have seen the hole in the fence, hidden behind a particularly tall stand of star thistle and the dumpster for a dry cleaners next door. Sean slipped between the thistle and the dumpster to examine the hole. "Look," he said to Mike. The wire had not come loose; it had been cut from the support at the corner where one length of chain link abutted another. Sean thought about that for a moment. "If he came here at night a lot, then he might have made that hole himself." "Whatever he has hidden here, he doesn't want anyone to find out about it. No cameras. Did you notice?" Mike asked. Sean looked at the little map swiped from the counter in the office. F168 was located far in the back, out of sight of the office. While they slipped through the fence and made their way to the unit, Mike said. "No warrant, no probable cause." "I think we have worse crimes in our past," Sean said. "No one's ever going to know about this. Let's just not get caught." "If we have to cut that padlock, they'll know," Mike said. "I brought a replacement." "Good." As it turned out, the lock was a keyed padlock, and Sean pulled on latex gloves and began to work on it. He had it open in a couple of minutes. There was no electricity to the unit, but it was daylight, and they had come prepared with flashlights. They shined the flashlights around and whistled. "Will you get a load of that?" Mike said, pulling on his own gloves. "It's like a Wal-Mart photo center." What they found inside was photographs. Thousands of photographs lined up in neat rows in long plastic trays that rested on heavy duty shelving. Within the trays, the photos were grouped, separated by cardboard dividers that said the name of the persons in them. Sean and Mike flipped through a few. "Hey isn't this that Miranda chick that was in rehab so many times?" Sean said, holding up a photo of a woman with two men, mid-coitus. They found several that had subjects having sex and clearly unaware of the photographer that spied on them. "He was a frickin' peeper," Mike said. "Are you really that surprised?" "No. Not really. The guy always gave me the willies." "No he didn't. You liked the guy once upon a time," Sean said while holding a photo up and shining his light on it. "Mark Williamson with another guy." "I didn't like him after he convinced Christie to marry him at eighteen. Look here." At one end of the shelves, they found four trays that simply had "Christie" written on them in marker. Even with the beating Steve had given her before she killed him, nothing could have prepared them for what they found when they began randomly pulling out photos. Beatings. Steve fucking Christie, her body covered in welts and bruises. Photos of a strap in his raised hand, about to deliver a blow to her back. Christie bound and gagged, clothespins on her nipples. Steve raping her with foreign objects. "Look at her expression," Sean said. "That ain't sexual excitement." "She looks...," Mike's voice caught and he swallowed. "Hopeless," Sean finished for him. They both stood there for a long time, Mike with silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "She never said a word," he said. "Stupid little fool. Sweet, generous little fool," Sean said, his voice cracking with emotion. "She endured this for our sakes, you know." "And Danny's, I'll bet." "Look closely at these photos," Sean said. "I'd rather not." "No, look. If you look at several you'll see how careful the little shit was. He never hit her on the face or neck, or the lower arms or legs. I'll bet he never broke a bone, either." "If he had we would have discovered it," Mike said. "Yeah. It was very controlled. Scarily controlled sexual sadism. I think there's a lot more to Steve than we ever knew. Did you ever suspect this?" Mike shrugged. "I was on deployment when she got married, but Mom said she had no enthusiasm about her wedding and cried herself to sleep the night before. So, yeah, I wondered." "I did a little at first, too, but she seemed to thrive. Even with all this, and a baby, she went to school and had a career." "Our girl is one tough cookie." "She was so young," Sean said. "And so naive and sheltered. She probably thought she was being noble or something. Sacrificing herself for us." "She was probably scared to death. This is our fault, Sean." The cardboard labels in the Christie trays held the year the photos were taken, going back twenty-six years to when Christie was only ten. Mike pulled out the very first photo, one that showed ten-year-old Christie in a yellow bathing suit at the public pool. "I remember this suit," Mike said. "It was her first two-piece and she was so proud of it I got tired of hearing about it." Sean looked over his shoulder at the photo. "He took that from outside the fence, in the bushes by the parking lot," he said. "A peeping tom hiding in the bushes and spying on a ten-year-old girl in a bathing suit. He was what? Twelve? Early but, unfortunately, not unusually so." "She sure was pretty," Mike said, looking at a photo of Christie in a tutu at a dance recital. "And it attracted the attention of a nut-case." Sean pulled out another photo. Christie was about fifteen, lying naked on her bed. "This was taken from above," Mike remarked. "He put a remote camera on the ceiling fixture." Sean scraped at something stuck to the photo. "My God, is that cum?" They hastily put the photos back as they had found them. "What's next?" Mike asked. The next set of shelves held plastic bins, seven of them. Inside each was a file folder with a tidy ledger of sums, with a date beside each, and a name and address. With the folders were mostly photographs, but a few bins held video tapes, computer disks, or what looked to Sean like audio recordings. The photographs left no doubt. "Blackmail," Sean said. "You know," Mike said. "I always thought they lived too well. Portrait photographers can't make that much, even with famous clients, and I know his celebrity photos sometimes get only a few dollars. Even with Christie's practice, they couldn't afford that house they live in." "Yep, but he probably got a lot for some of those candid shots he took while hiding in people's closets." "It's probably a short step from peeping tom to blackmailer, since he spies on such famous people. But it's not the obvious one." "Nope," Mike said from the set of shelves on the opposite wall. "The obvious next step is over here." More plastic bins, even smaller this time, and more photographs, each cataloging a rape. Sean counted the boxes. "Twenty-eight," Sean said in a low voice. "He's raped twenty-eight women." They could only stare for a moment and try to comprehend the enormity of a serial rapist getting away with it that many times, for so many years. "Twenty-eight that he's bothered to photograph and catalog," Mike said. "There could be more. He traveled all over. Every one of these women could be in a different city. That's how he got away with it for so long." "Probably. Look at the dates," Sean said. "The first few years only have one or two each, but there's five in the last fourteen months. He was escalating." He looked at several of the photos. "And getting more brutal. It was only a matter of time before he killed someone." Mike held up four photos from four different rapes. "Who do these women remind you of?" Three women were all pretty and dark haired. The fourth was blond, but statuesque and beautiful. "It's Christie. They were surrogates for Christie," Mike said. He started opening boxes and pulling out photos. Most of the women resembled Christie to one degree or another. "I'll bet he wanted to do this to her all along. All these years, of being so controlled, I wonder what sent him over the edge." "Careful," Sean said. "We need to leave this like we found it." "Sean," Mike said from where he was crouched down at the bottom shelf. "Found it." He pulled out a box with what they came for -- the photos from the night Andy raped Christie. "There's so many," Sean remarked. "He was there the entire time, taking photos while Andy raped our sister." Mike held up two photos that weren't as clear or perfectly framed as the rest. "He raped her, too. Steve raped her." Looking at them, fury blossomed in Sean's chest. Mike growled and slammed his fist into the metal support for the shelf. "I wish he wasn't dead so I could kill him myself," he said. "Yep." There was a desk at the back of the unit, with a computer. A diesel generator supplied the power. Sean fired it up while Mike went through more photos to see if there were any of Christie that they missed. A password blocked Sean from gaining anything useful. "We'll need that hard drive. He might have digitized the photos of us." Mike searched the desk and found a piece of paper with what might be passwords taped beneath a drawer. "Sloppy for such a meticulous guy," Sean said. In the desk drawer Mike found a lock box. It was easy to pick open and revealed jewelry, large and small pieces. All of it looked valuable. "Add burglary to peeping, blackmail, and rape," Sean said. "Geez, he's a one-man crime wave." Mike returned the jewelry to the box. "Stupid," he said. "No one's going to the police if you take photographs of them doing something they shouldn't, but burglary has to be reported for insurance." "Probably just stuff lying around on dressers that he couldn't resist taking while he was there anyway. Are we done?" Sean asked. "I think so," Mike replied. "Let's pop the padlock on that back gate and bring your truck around. We're going to take the computer, the monitor, and the generator. Make it look like a computer was never in here. What should we do with the rest?" "We burn it," Mike said. "Fill the back of the truck, take it somewhere, start a bonfire." "Mike, think about it. Twenty-eight unsolved cases. Women who need closure. We could send in the photos anonymously." "Christie needs closure. She needs this part of her life to be over with. If we turn this in, it's going to be an even bigger media circus. Her life will just go from one nightmare to a different nightmare. A serial rapist? Decades from now the press will still be revisiting it. And what about Danny?" "Why don't we let Christie decide?" Sean asked. Mike shined his flashlight around the unit, surveying the thousands of photographs. "I still say we should burn it. You know what Christie's choice would be. She never thinks of herself." Sean looked around and finally said, "Let Christie decide. She was his victim, too." ##### "We found the storage unit." Sean had said. "The problem is taken care of." Both Sean and Mike had refused to say another word about it for the next three days while Christie recovered. Both of them returned to work, but visited when the could. Danny only went home when Christie told him he stank. When the doctor finally let her get up and shower, she stood in front of them, arms outspread, and said, "See? All better now. Talk." Then they had to help her back into bed. "I know something is up," she said. "I'm going home in an hour or two, at which point Mom will be underfoot. Now's a good time if you have something to tell me." Sean jerked his head toward the door, looking at Mike. "Door," Sean said. He looked down at his sister while Mike did this, and then said, "You're an idiot." "Hey!" Danny said. "You needed privacy to tell me that?" Christie said. "I love you, Sis, and I'm going to forgive your idiocy because you were just a kid when all this began, but I just want to go on the record saying that I think you're a sweet, loving, foolish idiot." "If I was an idiot, it was for your sake," she said. "That's the part that makes you an idiot." "How much does Danny know?" Mike asked. "Everything," Danny said. "No, not everything," Sean said, and he took her hand, sat at her side, and told her everything. ##### "I'm not terribly surprised," Christie said when Sean had told her every last detail. She felt a little sick, but not surprised. "Me neither," Danny said. "We even wondered if he was a rapist." Photographs Ch. 10 "Blackmail is not what I expected," Christie said, "but I guess with all the spying he did, he would have stumbled on a few things." "The real question is what do you want us to do with it?" Sean said. "We could find a way to get it to the police." "Steve would become notorious," Mike said. "And so would you." "People would wonder why you never figured it out. Stupid people will say you knew and protected him. Or worse." "The press would never let it go. He'd be like Ted Bundy. People would talk about Steve Tyler decades from now." "Maybe, maybe not," Christie said. She looked back and forth between them. "Sounds to me like you've been talking this over and over for days. What about all those women? Or the people who were blackmailed. They need to see justice." "You're police officers," Danny said. "And Christie's an office of the court." They just looked at him. "We're MacAwleys first," Mike said. Sean took her hand again. "Why don't you think about it?" "Give me a minute." Christie leaned back and closed her eyes, tired from the conversation. Her first instinct was to release the evidence to the police. What happened to her life didn't matter if she could bring closure to so many. Those women deserved to know who raped them and what happened to him. Christie herself understood not knowing. She knew much about what happened that night, but not all. Perhaps the remaining photographs would answer that nagging question: had she enjoyed it? Had she been a participant in her own rape? She didn't think about it much anymore. That wound had mostly healed. Only times like this tore it open again. It had begun to feel like she spent her entire life making hard choices. In retrospect, deciding to sleep with her son had been easy, a comfortable glide into the arms of the only person who truly understood what she'd lived through. This would affect him, too. He was already the son of the woman who stabbed her husband in the throat with an umbrella. He'd been there that night, and it had been impossible to keep him out of the press. If she turned over the photographs, Danny would become the man raised by a serial rapist. She opened her eyes to look at him, seeing his expectant expression. The three men in the room were silent, waiting. She knew that whatever she said now she would have to live with for the rest of her life, but the decision was easy. "Burn it." ###### During the entire conversation Mike had remained in a position by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Whenever Christie looked his way, he stared at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Sean wanted to leave for the storage unit right away, but Christie shooed him and Danny out for a minute. Still by the door, Mike said, "Sis," but couldn't go on. When he didn't speak Christie said, "We're even, Mike. You killed someone to save me. I married someone to save you. Let it go." "I killed someone, but you were the one who was punished." He came forward then, ran a hand through his hair and gave a small, humorless laugh. "And the ironic thing is I would probably have never seen jail time for it anyway." "You didn't know that at the time." "Sean knew. He kept telling me it would be okay, but I wouldn't believe him." "By the time I started law school, I knew it was the cover-up I was protecting you from, not the murder." They remained quiet for a time. Mike opened his mouth to speak but Christie cut him off. "Don't you ever ask me to forgive you." Mike frowned. "But--" "Don't." She had grown very tired, but she had just a little more to say. "Remember your high school graduation? Do you remember what I said to you?" "You said you'd never forgive me if I didn't straighten out and live a good life. I did, didn't I? Are you okay with the way I turned out?" She held out a hand to him and he took it. "You're still a poopyhead sometimes, but you're a poopyhead who's done a pretty good job at life." "So we're okay?" "Of course we're okay." ##### When Christie came home from the hospital, her mother stayed with her for two weeks while she recovered. There were reporters and photographers on her street the entire time. Even without the necessity of a trial, she wondered if she would ever see the last of them. "It's just us now, Mom," Danny said, standing beside her in the entryway when they returned from taking her mother to the airport. She nodded silently, he expression vacant. "Mom?" "I don't know what to do." He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the den and onto the sofa. "You're not sad that he's gone, are you?" he asked. "Of course not." "So, what's the problem?" "I don't know what to do. I tried and tried to find a way out, but I never really believed it would happen." "Well, it did." He thought for a second. "Why don't you sell this house?" Her face brightened. "Yes, tomorrow." "Okay, that's quick." "And I can burn all that stuff in the white cabinet." "Can I help?" "The portrait studio has to be closed up." She grew more alert, sitting up straighter. "Let's forget it for now," Danny said. "And go to bed. Your bed, where I intend to sleep forever." She wanted to say that forever is a long time, but didn't. Soon he would come to his realizations on his own. "Yes, let's go to bed." Photographs Ch. 11 The problems began in his senior year of college when Danny started to receiving acceptances for medical schools. Danny understood the importance of applying to a number of schools, but planned only to go to UCLA. He would never leave Christie. Christie gave hints. Then one evening she let it all out. "Danny, do you want children of your own?" she asked while they were eating dinner. "Nope," he said, slicing his steak. He had cooked, so the meal was simple. "You sure?" "Yep." "But..." "Why don't you get pregnant and I can help you raise it? There are sperm donors." She pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything. She scored one for Danny, because he knew that was something she wanted to do. "What about falling in love?" she asked. "Have you ever thought about meeting someone, a stranger, and it being love at first sight?" He eyed her for a second. "You tired of me?" "No, of course not," she said quickly. "It's just there are experiences you've never had." "You've never had them, either. You've never had a planned pregnancy with a husband. You've never dated anyone you wanted to date. Have you fallen in love with someone at first sight?" "No. I haven't." It was true. And now that she'd had Danny, she probably never would. She decided to be blunt. "Danny, you need a normal life. Someday you're going to look back and regret all you didn't have because you were tied to me." "I need you, Christie." He pointed his fork at her plate. "You're not eating, and I slaved over this meal. You always skip meals when you're upset over something. Cook them. Don't eat them." "Danny, I want you to go away for medical school. We need to break this off so you can lead a normal life." He slowly put down his knife and fork and stared at her. "You don't mean that." "I do. I've known this had to happen since the first night we slept together." "But you love me. How can you say these things?" "It's because I love you. I want you to be happy and content with your life, and you won't be in the long run if we continue to live like this. It's best if we break it off now. And you going away to medical school would be a good way to do it." "I am happy and content with my life. I was so happy I could burst, until about sixty seconds ago." He stood, leaving his plate half full of food. "We're not having this discussion," he said angrily. "We're staying together." ###### That night he made love to her frantically, hands gripping her fiercely, driving into her hard. It hurt a little, but she welcomed the pain as a kind of penance for what she did to him and would continue to do. Afterward, Danny held Christie in an almost crushing hold. His kisses were passionate, desperate. "You belong to me," he said again and again. "You're mine." She shivered. It was what Steve used to say, but his fingers had dug into her flesh when he said it, leaving bruises. Danny was more gentle even in his current desperation. "Danny--" "Listen. I belong to you, too. I'm yours. This is not about two people having sex. It never was." He squeezed her in his death grip again. "I'm yours, and I know that if I left it would destroy you. Admit it. Admit that it would hurt you if I left." She held back a sigh, and her silence was her answer. It was going to tear her apart, but she was determined. "I endured twenty years with a sadist," she said quietly, "and it didn't destroy me. I lived through that relationship because I never gave up my determination to survive." "Admit it!" She finally said, "It will be extremely painful, but in the end you will have a full, happy life, and that will make it worthwhile to me." "Gah! When are you going to stop sacrificing yourself for the sake of others? It drives me crazy. You're like the strongest person I know, except when it comes to your own needs." He let go of her and rolled onto his back. She hadn't seen him so emotional since the day Steve beat her in the entryway. "If you can't see to your own self," he said more calmly, "then know that this is not what I wish. I think what you're trying to do would kill me. And what really pisses me off is you're not even considering my side of this. You think that because you're the mother, you must know best. I'll tell you something, Christie. You're not my mother anymore." She ignored this. "You're very young still. You'll come to see what I mean in time. Just think, Danny, of all the lies and deception we already have to do. Someday the family is going to start to ask when you're going to get married. Think how they'll look at you if you live with your mother for the rest of your life." "I don't care! I wouldn't be living with them. I'd be with you!" He got out of bed and stood over her. He gave a big sigh. "You're wrong, Christie. I just hope I can convince you of that before you ruin everything. You're going to ruin your own life, not just mine." Christie sat up to sit at the edge of the bed and turned on the light. The sudden sight of him, naked and beautiful in the glow of the lamplight, took her breath away as it sometimes did. She felt a prickling at the back of her eyes. She squeezed them shut hard for a second to fight it. When she opened them she said, "My hopes were destroyed when I was fifteen. What I want no longer matters. I'm only thinking of what's best for you." "You matter, Christie!" He took her by the shoulders, so frustrated he wanted to shake her. He felt a flush of shame at the panicked look in her eyes, remembering the way Steve treated her. He clutched her to him, both to reassure her and so he wouldn't have to see it. "We have a few weeks before I have to respond," he said quietly. "We'll think of something. Now let's lie down. I really need you right now." ##### Christie and Danny argued intermittently over the next several weeks. The make-up sex became less and less frequent until they hardly made love at all. Their final fight came on the day Danny could no longer put off his reply to Stanford and still keep his place. He had already replied to UCLA, although he didn't tell Christie that. They were both hard-headed and stubborn, but Christie held all the power. She refrained from using it until there was no other choice. "I'm not going," Danny said for the zillionth time, and the fifth time that morning alone. They were both late for work because of arguing. "Then I'm kicking you out of the nest, Danny. Go find someplace else to live. Go find some other way to put yourself through medical school." "You really mean that?" "Yes." He simply stood there for a long minute, then said quietly, "Then I'm going to Stanford. Not because of the money. I don't want your money. It's because I don't want to be anywhere near you." Then he went to the fax machine to send his forms to Stanford and afterward packed his bags. ##### Christie stayed at home until Danny left, standing by an upstairs window and waiting. Far too quickly she saw him stride out of the house with his bags in his hands. He paused as he opened his car door and looked back at the house. He saw her, she knew, but he simply drove away. She had done it, she thought. She had spoiled the best thing she had ever had in a life full of trials and disappointments. She did not cry; she was too numb. It was a hollow victory. ###### Danny spent that night, and the remaining few weeks of the school year, camped out on the sofa at a basketball buddy's house. Danny meant it when he said he couldn't be anywhere near Christie. If he remained in the same city with her, he didn't trust himself not to beg, and he was far too angry to allow that to happen. For now, he wanted no relationship with his mother if he couldn't have the one he wanted. Maybe, he hoped, if they spent some time apart it would be painful enough for her to take him back. He never realized how, even growing up with Steve, his mother had sheltered him from grief and disappointments. Meghan's betrayal had been tempered by his own realization that he was better off without her. Breaking up with her had been a relief. But this... Something shattered inside him when he walked out that door. His even temper frayed until he turned into a broody, angry man whose best friend was a six-pack. Danny drank every night once his studying was done. It was the only way he could sleep without her. He sent Christie an invitation to his college graduation, he felt he owed her that, but they did not speak. Still, he scanned the crowd of thousands for half an hour until he saw her, and he automatically turned toward her direction when the dean handed him his diploma, hoping to see a look of pride on her face. She smiled and cried at the same time, and he didn't know what that meant. The very next day he parked on her street and waited until he saw her car drive away. Then he stole into his own home and packed everything that would fit in his car -- the car Christie gave him -- and left for the Bay Area. ##### Danny had money saved from the odd jobs he worked in college. Until he arrived in Bay Area, though, he had no idea of the value of the things Christie had provided for him: housing, food, utilities. He paid for his own gas, maintenance, and car insurance, but even most of his clothing had been purchased by his mother. When he realized he would be living in one of the most expensive areas in the nation, he knew he would have to significantly alter his standard of living. His nest egg would last no more than four months. Three when he accounted for the cost of textbooks. His greatest expense, tuition, he had taken care of before he left LA. He would be in hock to his eyeballs when he graduated, but he could go to school. First investing in a first aid and CPR course, he found a job as an orderly. "You push the gurneys slowly." His new trainer, Pedro, had taken Danny under his wing from the first day. "Faster," said the elderly man in the gurney.. "Where you need to go so fast?" Pedro asked him. "I'm going home?" he said hopefully. "No one likes it here," Danny said. Despite wanting to be a doctor, he didn't much like hospitals. They reminded him of those awful days after Steve had tried to beat Christie to death. "Slowly, Daniel," Pedro said. He pronounced it Dahn-ee-ell. "These people, they have surgical sutures, broken bones. They're in a lot of pain. No fast corners, no bumps. Slowly. Now here, where the old building meets the new one, there's a big bump. Careful." Danny got it, maybe better than Pedro knew. The people now in his care were like the broken birds he'd nursed as a boy. He yawned and shook his head to clear it. Even with three beers, it had been hard to sleep. He never slept anymore. His noisy roommates didn't help. He wondered where he could score some sleeping pills without having to explain the situation to a doctor. "Up late?" Pedro asked. "My roommates party a lot." "You don't?" "Not really." "How much you paying?" "Eight hundred, plus another hundred for utilities." "For a room? Shit, man, you're being robbed. Where is this place?" Pedro stopped to push an elevator button. "Palo Alto." "No wonder. It's not East Palo Alto?" "No, why?" The elevator doors opened and Danny pushed the gurney over the threshold as carefully as he could. "You're not from around here, are you?" Pedro pushed the 'up' button. "No. I'm from LA." "What're you doing up here?" "I'm going to Stanford in the fall. That's why I got a room in Palo Alto." Pedro looked at him speculatively. "What're you studying?" "Medicine." "You should live we me," Pedro said quickly. "I have a two-bedroom in Sunnyvale. Four-fifty, plus half the utilities. Usually about another hundred. That's all." He grinned. "I need a roommate." The elevator doors slid open and they pushed the gurney into the hallway. Danny had liked Pedro immediately, but it sounded to good to be true. "You don't know anything about me," he said carefully. "And what's this place like if it's so cheap?" ##### The place turned out to be a converted storefront that was probably illegal, but Danny didn't care. Only price mattered, and Pedro turned out to be a good friend and a neat-freak. "Hey, man," he would say, "not in the living room," and Danny would know he'd left something lying around. This happened daily for the first few weeks until Danny learned. Even his mother hadn't been that bad, and she kept her house cleaner than an operating room. When he had thoughts like that he would growl in frustration. Christie was in his head, in his veins, and he needed a distraction. Wanting her consumed him at night until he tossed and turned, sweating and fevered in his bed. At last he would rise, get a drink or a Xanax, and hope it would erase the memories for a while. Thinking about it one night in July, after his third beer, he got tired of being holed up in his room. Pedro had guests over, and although they tried to socialize with him, and Pedro encouraged it, he seldom felt like entertaining company. "Where you going?" Pedro asked him. He held up his basketball, tried to spin it on one finger and ended up dropping it. The remains of a six-pack in his other hand slipped when he reached for the ball, and he nearly dropped that as well. One of the guys on the sofa handed him the ball. "'Cross the street. Park," he said when he had everything together again. "It's closed, hermano," Pedro said. "Then the courts'll be free," he replied and slipped out the door. "Your friend seems kind of drunk," he heard as it closed behind him. The courts were free, but also near completely dark, street lights the only illumination. Danny could hit almost any basket in near darkness, or at least the backboard. His first shot missed. Entirely. "Shit," he said, staring off into the night where his ball had disappeared. He stomped off onto the lawn, searching for the ball, and swearing loudly. "Shit! fuck!" It took a while, but he found the ball under a bush and returned to the court, swiping an open beer bottle on the way. He chugged half of it and set the bottle down on the free throw line. The next shot hit the backboard, deflected at an odd angle, and he had to run to catch it. He fumbled the ball and managed to send it shooting out onto the grass again. "God damn it!" Life is about futility, he thought. Have a skill, and you lose it. Love a woman, and you lose her. It took eight tries and lots of loud swearing to get the ball through the hoop. Danny had consumed his fifth beer by then. He drank them down like water, wanting to be oblivious. It took a lot of beer to get a man Danny's size shitfaced, but he succeeded. Four more failed shots, the last beer. Danny was a quiet man, and normally a quiet drunk, but something snapped inside him. After the last missed basket, he dropped down onto the grass, fell over on his side and started to scream. All the ache he hadn't acknowledged for so many weeks came ripping from the place he hid it and he felt like he might die. He certainly wanted to. Danny didn't see the flashing lights, but Pedro did. Having heard the screams, he was already out the door, and he arrived at the same time as the cops. He knelt by Danny's side. "Man, do I need to put a leash on you?" he asked calmly. By then Danny's screams had diminished to wracking sobs. "Come on, let's go home." He reached for his arm, but Danny, now grown to his full height of 6'6", was nine inches taller and nearly 100 pounds heavier. Pedro's friends helped lift Danny to his feet. "Why?" Danny said. "Why'd she do this to me?" Thankfully, the cops weren't interested in arresting a large, drunk, and distraught young man, and they had another call while Pedro and his friends were trying to convince them they lived nearby and could handle him. With Danny stumbling between them, and stopping once to let him vomit, they got him home. He let them settle him on the sofa, where he sat crying softly. By then he sobered up just enough to be embarrassed. "Get him some water," one of the men suggested. "Should shove him in the shower," the other said as he headed for the kitchen. "Good idea," Pedro said. He sat on the coffee table across from him, elbow on one knee, chin on his fist. "What's your problem?" he said. Danny looked around the spinning room, seeing faces he didn't recognize. Even this drunk, secrecy was so ingrained, he didn't speak. "She is," was all he said. "Some woman?" "Yeah. Some woman." "Bad breakup?" "Yeah." He took the water in a shaking hand, tried to drink and ended up spilling half of it. Pedro's friend helped him hold it. Danny stared at one corner of the coffee table, trying to get the edges to resolve into solid lines. The smell of vomit on his clothes made him want to puke all over again. "This has been coming for some time, I think," Pedro said. "He drinks whenever he's not working. Sits in his room and don't talk much." "You should kick him out," one of the friends said. "My ball," Danny said, trying to rise. "Where's my ball? Can't afford a new one." "That's because you're drinking all your money," Pedro said. "I'll go get it," the friend with the glass said. "Maybe we should leave." "Help me get him in the shower first," Pedro said. "This dude is huge." "Okay, amigo, let's get you clean." They helped him undress, but left him in his underwear. Danny calmer now, allowed them to maneuver him into the shower stall. The cold water sobered him even more, and his embarrassment morphed into drunken mortification. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry." "Don't do it again. I do not like the police." "Police? There were police?" "I'll tell you in the morning." Once clean, they led Danny to his room. Pedro made sure he was in dry clothes before settling him into bed like he was one of his patients. From outside the room he heard the friend say again, "You should kick him out." "No," Pedro said before he turned out the light. "I knew from the moment I saw him he was mine to take care of. He's a good guy. Wounded. That's what he is. Some puta broke him." ##### Danny started medical school under the influence of the previous night's Xanax, the only sleeping pill he seemed to be able to get his hands on. He hadn't wanted to be hungover, but the grogginess the drug left him with was worse. He fell asleep in one class and forgot to get the syllabus for another. He arrived home that day not knowing what any of his assignments were. After a humbling round of phone calls to his teachers' offices, he discovered that medical school faculty could be particularly unforgiving. He straightened up his act out of sheer necessity. He drank less, studied and worked part-time and attended classes, but still he needed several drinks before he could sleep at night. He had a hangover so much of the time that his grades suffered. The boy determined to show the bigots of the world that he was better than they could ever hope to be didn't much care. >>> Photographs Ch. 12 Christie settled into no routine at all. She still swam at 5:30 every morning. Because it was the only time she had any peace, she added moonlight swims, but she never danced. She kept up with her practice simply out of habit, going through the motions. She didn't always go into the office if she had no appointments. The plants received water and food when she passed through a room, not on any schedule. Evenings and weekends went by in naps or fits of housekeeping or simply sitting and listening to music and doing nothing much at all. Whole days passed by where she didn't eat a single meal, and the food in the refrigerator spoiled without Danny there to eat it all. Later, looking back at that summer, she could remember nothing but waiting. The time passed in an empty blur. She had no idea where her son was. It tormented her, day and night, the only thing she really felt for those three months. In September, desperate for any news, she called Stanford University using a pretext to gain information, and learned he was attending classes. Her relief was so great, she wept. ##### "You're eating again," Ralph pointed out at lunch one day in September. Christie kept chewing and nodded. "I finally know where Danny is," she said. She glanced around. After two years she still sometimes caught herself searching for Steve at her lunches with Ralph. "Did he call you?" She shook her head, put down her fork. "No." Ralph reached out his hand across the table. He'd been doing that lately, ever since the day she confided that Danny had gone and not kept in contact with her. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before returning to her lunch. That contact helped a little. The truth was, she thought nothing could relieve the constant ache of Danny's absence. She never wanted to lose him, or be without him in the first place. Her goal had been to protect his future, give him a better chance in life. Now she didn't know what to do with her own. She didn't know when she would start making plans that didn't include Danny. Another problem that Christie experienced was the lack of people to talk to. Her shattering grief wasn't normal for a mother and son fight, and the family already wanted answers. She couldn't confide in her friends about a breakup with a lover; they would want to know who, particularly since she hadn't acted like she'd had one in the first place. Forced to keep everything inside, Christie ended up brooding or having short little bursts of activity to take her mind off her pain. "Keep eating," Ralph said. "You're getting too thin. So, where's Danny?" "At Stanford, attending classes. That's all I know." "I could take a trip up there, if you like. Find out where he's living and how he's doing." "No, Ralph, but thank you. I don't want to spy on him the way Steve spied on us." Ralph nodded. "Of course, but if you change your mind, or you really need to get a hold of him, let me know." She smiled, grateful. "I will. Thank you. Do you think you can find out how he paid his tuition for me? If he took out loans, which I assume he must have, I want to pay them." "I'll try." He watched her eat fitfully after that, but she still managed to finish most of her meal and drink an entire glass of orange juice. "Christie," he said thoughtfully. "What you might need is a distraction." She waited, suspecting what was coming. "What kind?" "Getting out and doing things. When was the last time you left the house aside from work?" May 14, she thought, the day Danny left. "I don't know," she lied. "There's a little theater around the corner from where I live. They're having an Audrey Hepburn festival this weekend. 'Roman Holiday' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and old movies like that. Want to come with me?" She couldn't go back with Danny; she could only go forward without him. She still believed this firmly, although this conviction had worn thin around the edges. Christie recognized how thoroughly stuck she had become, and she needed to find ways to live without him and still survive. Thriving was beginning to look out of the question, but she could try. Ralph watched her. His cheeks colored slightly when she didn't answer right away. He must sense her hesitancy. "Yes," she replied. "That sounds lovely." ##### Ralph fell asleep during the middle of their date. Christie nudged him when 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' ended. "Ralph." Nudge. "Ralph!" "Wha'?" He jerked awake. "You fell asleep during the movie." Ralph rubbed his hand over his face, blushed, and glanced at her. "Sorry." "Do you even like Audrey Hepburn movies?" "Ummm... I've never actually seen one." He smiled. "But I heard that chicks like them." She rolled her eyes. "I do, but I like action movies a lot, too. Next time, let's discuss it." She stood and held out her hand to help him up. "There'll be a next time after I fell asleep?" he asked. He took her hand but brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Oh..." she sighed. "There will be now." They exited the theater and stood outside on the sidewalk. "Where to now?" Christie asked. "Since we aren't seeing the second movie." "My place?" he asked hopefully. He took her hand and drew her towards him. "I can think of some fun things to do. I have a good bottle of chardonnay." "Cabernet?" He frowned. "I thought all chicks liked the white stuff." "The very fact that you use the word 'chicks' to my face tells me you don't know much about chicks." He frowned. "You think I'm a jerk." "I think you're being adorable." "Damn, and here I was going for manly. My place?" he said. ##### Ralph stood just inside the door to his tidy little apartment and looked at her, his expression intense. He slowly raised one hand to touch her face lightly, a brush of fingertips. "Ralph?" "You're here," he whispered. "Yes?" "You're finally here." "Oh, Ralph," she said softly. The hand slid to her nape and pulled her toward him. His lips claimed hers without hesitation, demanding, years of pent up passion exploding into a kiss that momentarily made her forget who she was. "Wine?" she said, breaking the kiss. He pressed his lips together, looking down. "Sorry." She followed him into the corner set aside for the kitchen, but had to back out again. "It only fits one," Ralph said. He opened his refrigerator. "I have the white. No Cabernet." "Water would be better, anyway." He motioned toward the sofa. "Sit, please." A minute later Ralph was sitting beside her, a comfortable distance between them. She sipped her water and waited. "You're never going to sleep with me, are you?" "I wouldn't say never, but tonight is unlikely." "Do you even know what you want?" She had to think about that for a minute. "Not really. For so long I didn't dare dream of anything that my thinking in those terms is kind of rusty." "I know what you want." She smiled a little. "You do? What do you think I want?" "I think you want your son back. I think you want to spend the rest of your life with him." "That's crazy. I mean..." she lifted her glass to distract him. It shook the tiniest bit. "I would like us to be on good terms again, but I want him to have his own life." "Maybe that's why you broke up?" "Broke up?" She turned her body slightly, edging away from him. "We had a fight. Parents and children do that." "But the parents don't grieve for four months as if somebody died." "I didn't know where he was, or even if he was alive, until ten days ago!" "Or maybe your reaction was a little extreme because you've been sleeping with him for a long time." She squared her shoulders and went on the offensive. "What? How can you say something like that?" He leaned back on the sofa and laid one arm across the back. "I watch people, Christie. It's my job. And I still work the occasional divorce case. One thing I can see is the nature of people's relationships. Who's been married happily for a long time, who's cheating, and which couples are sleeping together. You and Danny, you don't have the power dynamic of mother and son. You act as equals. You consult each other before making important decisions. You do freaking everything together. You've been very careful, I can tell, but you act like an old married couple who've been happy for a long time. Until last spring. Something changed then. And then he was gone." "So I grieve over his absence and you decide I must have been sleeping with him?" "I've suspected ever since Steve died." She looked away, focusing on the blank TV screen. "You suspect I've been sleeping with my son, yet you still ask me out tonight?" she said in disbelief, turning back toward him. "You must be very open-minded." He smiled. "Not as open-minded as you, I think." "I have never slept with my son," she said firmly, but her cheeks gave her away with a tell-tale blush. "Liar." He sat up straight. "This is what I want to know: if I start something with you, will you up and abandon me if he comes back to you? Is it really over?" "You waited until after kissing me before asking that?" "I wasn't certain until now." "I can't do this." Christie got up. What little of her heart left unbroken, shattered. She had given up her lover. Now she had to give up her friend, because she knew that if Danny walked in her door today she would go down on her knees and beg him to forgive her. "I'm not giving up, Christie. I want you enough to forgive something like this." Suddenly she was furious. "I should let myself go. Get fat. Stop doing my hair and wearing makeup. Because I am sick and tired of the lengths men will go to possess me." He got up and walked over to where she stood. He gently held her shoulders. "You really have no idea, don't you?" "What?" she said hotly. "There are lots of pretty women in LA. You are special because of who you are inside. Smart and strong and caring. You can be ruthless but you'll sacrifice everything for those you love. Your eyes show so much intelligence and still are so warm. Men might go to crazy lengths to be with someone like you, but I don't want to possess you. I want us to belong to each other." She stared at his face, the earnest expression there, and let him pull her closer. "Give me some time, Ralph. Please. I can't belong to you right now, because I still belong to... someone else." ##### Halloween had just passed, one of his mother's favorite times. Every year she dressed up, even if only to pass out candy, and the house would be elaborately decorated. Laughing skulls with glowing eyes in dark corners, and bats that dangled in your hair when you walked in the door. They would have planned an outing to someplace no one knew them, using their costumes to further shield them from discovery. His mother would have worn something sexy -- maybe the Vampirella costume he liked so much that was cut to her navel. For the three days prior to the holiday, Danny had to turn off his cell phone to keep himself from calling her, but he couldn't stop himself from checking it every half hour "just in case he had an important message." He couldn't even deceive himself that he wasn't hoping she'd call. It was also mid-term exam time, so by the time that Friday came around, Danny was drained and edgy. He lay sprawled on their crappy old sofa, drinking a beer and wondering if it was time to graduate to whiskey, when Pedro came out to the living room, . "You need to get laid, Brother Daniel," Pedro said, looking down at him over the back of the sofa. "Why do you keep calling me that?" "Because you live like a monk. Let's go to the bars and find some girls." "Do you ever fucking stop?" "What? Picking up girls or giving you a hard time?" "Either. You're like a fucking animal. Do you ever even sleep with the same girl twice?" Pedro waved his hands in the air. "Oh no. That leads to bad things, like wedding rings." Danny raised his bottle to his lips and then said, "You'll marry. Some sweet girl that your aunt introduces you to. She'll be pretty for fifteen minutes and then grow fat and then--" Pedro slapped the back of his head. "OW!" "Don't talk like that. I might have to go lay down." "You're only upset because you know it's true." "It is true except the fat part. I'm more worried about the number of kids she'll want to pop out. So I sleep with them once. Okay?" "It only takes once. Just ask my mother," he muttered. "Qué?" "Nothing." Perhaps it was the week he'd had, or the beer he'd already drunk, but despite knowing it was a bad idea to be around other people that night, he found himself saying, "Look, maybe I'll go with you tonight. Can you wait for me to shower?" Pedro was a good guy, who seemed to care about Danny's happiness. If it made him feel like he was taking good care of Danny to try to get him out in circulation, he supposed he might as will allow it. He was rewarded with Pedro's happy grin. "Sure thing, hombre. Use some of that stinky stuff you shower with. The girls seem to love it. Just don't put on any of that 'eau de wounded lover' you go around with. I'll never get any girls." "What the fuck are you talking about?" "You should see yourself. You get to the bar and you're all broody and show no interest in the women, so they all flock to you. It would only be worse if you were gay." He paused. "Hey, man, you're not gay, are you? That bitch who dumped you wasn't really a guy?" "Fuck you." Danny turned the now empty beer bottle around so he was holding it by the neck. "Mr. Budweiser," he said to the bottle, "would you like to be introduced to Mr. Pedro's face?" Pedro laughed and backed off. "Hurry. I want to get an early start tonight." ##### For some reason that Danny would have challenged even God to explain, Pedro liked country bars. In Sunnyvale, California, a country bar meant a mix of office workers and kids from San Jose State trying to look the part in unscuffed boots and artfully torn jeans. The decor was usually what you'd expect -- wood dance floor, scattering of tables with stackable chairs, booths around the perimeter, and a huge bar -- and the the music could have put them anywhere in the USA. Danny hated it, but for some reason he often let Pedro drag him to the bars on a Friday or Saturday night if they both weren't working. Why drink whiskey in peace and quiet for $.75 a glass when you could spend $5 amid chaos and country twang? Danny never wanted to be an asshole, so he tried to stay mostly sober until either Pedro picked up a girl and wanted to go someplace quieter, or Pedro gave up and wanted to go home. The latter was much more difficult, seeing as Pedro was unlikely to give up until he either passed out or the bars closed. So Danny was still sober enough to see trouble coming when Pedro walked up with a short, curvy blond on his arm, with another young woman trailing behind them. He had been saving their seats at the booth for this eventuality, even while hoping against it. Pedro had already rustled up a spare for Danny. Lucky him. The "spare" was average height and average looking, trim, with long light brown hair. In the dim light, he couldn't tell what color her eyes were and he didn't really care to find out. She was the type of young woman who looked good if she made an effort, but would never turn many heads. Danny suppressed a sigh and made room for her to sit beside him. Pedro made introductions. "Carla," he said, pointing to the blond. Her hair was poofy and her western shirt was a glaring turquoise satin that he had to admit did good things for her skin. The spare was Jennifer. "Danny MacAwley," Danny said. "Irish or Scottish," Carla asked. She looked like a dumb blond, but Danny suddenly sensed a spark hidden under that bubble of hair. "I'm Irish," he said. "Real Irish?" Jennifer asked. "I didn't think there were many black people in Ireland." Danny glared across the table at Pedro, who smirked. That was the thing about country bars. It was likely that the only people of color aside from Pedro and him were the staff in the kitchen. Carla looked embarrassed and he had the sudden realization that Jennifer simply didn't want to be left alone, so she'd followed her friend. Danny relaxed. There would be no expectations to live up to if the girl wasn't interested in picking him up. "My grandparents are from Ireland," he explained. "My father was Jamaican. I was born here." "Well," Carla said, "Irish and Jamaican is a happy combination, I think." Pedro grunted. He leaned over the table and whispered, "Wounded." "Shut up," Danny whispered back. He was liking Carla more every minute. "That's what my mom always says," he said to her. The girls, it turned out, were seniors at San Jose State, Carla studying psychology, and Jennifer in electrical engineering. After a few minute's conversation, where Carla and Danny did most of the talking, it seemed that Jennifer wasn't as stupid as she first appeared, but simply completely uninterested in impressing him. He relaxed further. He also decided that it wasn't Jennifer's fault that her friend dragged her over here. "What do electrical engineers do when they get out of college?" he asked. "Submit job applications and say novenas," Jennifer said. Pedro snorted. "Sort of like what this med student here is gonna do." The 'if he doesn't stop drinking' was implied. "The electronics industry isn't what it used to be," Danny said, trying to sound interested. "All the jobs have gone overseas." "Yes, but I'm more interested in alternative power." "Are there jobs there?" "There aren't jobs anywhere." They continued to talk more and more to just each other, each backing into their corner of the booth, while Carla and Pedro talked less and less and moved closer together. It surprised no one when Pedro suggested they go back to their apartment. Jennifer squirmed, gave Carla some sort of obvious but undecipherable non-verbal cue by running her hands through her hair, and then said, "We should take separate cars." "I have to be at the hospital at eight tomorrow," Danny reminded Pedro. "I was hoping to duck out early." He had no intention of sleeping with Jennifer, and wanted to make that clear. Even if Christie didn't eclipse every woman he ever met, he simply wasn't interested in her. "Relax, Daniel," Pedro said, leaving out the 'Brother' but implying it. "You'll get your beauty sleep." Irritated, Danny said little else before they left. To make matters worse, Carla and Pedro went in Carla's car, while Jennifer rode with Danny. "Nice car," Jennifer said, when he opened the door of his beamer for her. "Don't get excited. It's old. I just take good care of it." To make matters worse, the car wouldn't start immediately, leaving him now both irritated and embarrassed. They both seemed uninterested in making small talk once they left the bar. Back at the apartment, Danny went straight for the refrigerator for another beer, offering Jennifer one, which she declined. In the living room, he said a silent thanks to Pedro and his neat-freak habits. His bedroom was another matter. Good thing she would never see it. There were two decrepit recliners and the sofa to choose from. Each chose a chair rather than share the proximity of the sofa. Carla and Pedro took their time, and suddenly the two of them had nothing to say to each other. Jennifer stood and walked over to his chair, holding out her hand. "We might as well," she said. "What?" "We might as well go to your bedroom," she said, still holding out her hand. "Why?" Danny asked stupidly. "To have sex, silly. Carla and Pedro are going to be here any minute, and having been through this before, I know it's going to get very loud in about a half hour. We might as well be making our own sex noises rather than sitting out here awkwardly trying to pretend we're not hearing theirs." Photographs Ch. 12 Danny's jaw dropped so far, he could have caught dragonflies. She'd uttered the most coldly logical reason he had ever heard for having sex. To his surprise, all he could think of to say was, "I have no condoms." She dropped her hand, an impatient gesture. "A good-looking, single college student who doesn't have condoms?" "I just had a break up from a long-term relationship. We had birth control." "You're really not in the market," she said, softening a little. "Nope." She held out her hand again. "Let's go to your room and see what happens." "But--" "I have some." He stared at the hand for a few more seconds. She had cheap silver rings on almost every finger, a look that he really did not like, but he took her hand. He weighed twice what she did, and ended up accidentally pulling her into his lap. "Sorry." "I'm not," she said and kissed him. Kissing a woman without any real excitement was a new experience for Danny. It felt clinical and strange, his focus dwelling on trivial things like the taste of vodka on her tongue and the texture of her lips, rather than how it felt. It reminded him of when he was fourteen and his fifteen-year-old -- and much more worldly -- cousin Teresa had kissed him to show him what it was like. He remembered feeling much more aroused back then than he did now. Jennifer was clearly getting into it, pressing into him and sliding her fingers into his hair. Danny had just realized he should maybe touch her, and put a hand on her waist, when Pedro and Carla walked in. Jennifer didn't even pause, but Danny managed to break away from her insistent lips. "Uh..." he said. "Carry on," Pedro said, clearly pleased. Jennifer stood. The kissing must have broken the ice for her, because she was much more relaxed and playful, and said, "I'm not holding out my hand again, you big lug. You'll have to get yourself out of that chair." For some reason, everyone thought this was funny but him. He stood and said, "This way," and led her to his room. Once his bedroom door was closed, Jennifer began to quickly and methodically strip out of her clothes and put them in a neat pile on his desk chair. Danny sat on the bed and watched this with no little apprehension. What kind of woman was this? "Well," she said when finished, standing naked with her hands on her hips. "Were you expecting a medical exam?" "What?" "You're all business." "I don't see any point in pretending romance." She stalked forward until one of her nipples was even with his mouth. They were very pale nipples on smallish breasts. He leaned forward to suck one into his mouth. Out of curiosity, he tried to suck the whole tit in his mouth. It almost fit. "What the fuck are you doing?" "Satisfying my curiosity." "You know, you could have just said no." "I don't remember saying anything, actually." "You brought up condoms. I took that as a yes." He decided then just to fuck her. There was nothing else for her to do, and keeping her occupied would make him a good host. That's what he told himself. Having made the decision, things suddenly became much easier. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer between his knees. While they kissed, he felt this unfamiliar body in his hands and decided it wasn't all bad. He couldn't help comparing her to his mother -- and would continue to do so -- and found her smaller everywhere and less curvy. Where Jennifer was muscled and hard, Christie was shapely and toned, with just enough padding to make her soft and comfortable to touch. His hands continued to roam, eventually settling one hand on her ass and the other on her breast. During this Jennifer went to work on the buttons of his shirt. After enduring her fumbling for a few minutes, he finally released her and tugged his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and tugged down his jeans. "Oh my," Jennifer said on seeing his cock. "It's not that big," Danny said. "Should I be scared?" "Naw. I'm careful." She crawled onto the bed, ending up sitting on the far side of it. He crawled next to her and pulled her down to lie beside him. If she were Christie, she'd be nibbling on his ear. "Nibble my ear," he said. "I like that." Thinking about his mother doing it didn't help, only making him a little depressed. He reached for her shaved pussy to slip a finger between her folds. Jennifer sighed in pleasure and asked for more. She was already a little wet, so he dove one finger inside her while rubbing her clit with the palm of his hand. Danny still wasn't fully hard, and had that disconnected feeling of watching himself from the outside. How to handle the situation finally came to him. He would go down on her, never really fucking her at all. That's what he did. It took a while for her to come, and when she finally climaxed he collapsed beside her on his side, his eyes closed. He wiped her juices from his face onto his forearm. After a few minutes, she asked angrily, "Is that it?" "Little Danny is telling Big Danny he needs to get some sleep because he has to work tomorrow." She sat up. "If you never wanted to do this, you should have said so." He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I'm sorry. I've only slept with one woman in my entire life. I guess I'm not the casual sex type." "So I was an experiment?" She seemed determined to take this the wrong way, but he tried again. "No. I wanted you to be happy and not sit out there alone and bored. Do you want to go home? Pedro can drive Carla home in the morning, or I will if she's up early enough." "We pair together to keep each other safe." "That's not the greatest plan. Pedro and I could have both been perverts." "It's better than nothing." He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "This bed is too small for two. I'll take the couch, you sleep here. The sheets are fresh." She snorted at that. "The couch isn't big enough for you. You sleep here, I'll take the couch." Together they made up a bed on the sofa, and before he returned to his room she said, "You know, you're a decent guy underneath all that emo shit you have going on." "I'm not emo." "You're fucked up, though. You need to figure out what you want." "I know what I want. That's the problem," he said and turned out the light. ##### If the date with Ralph accomplished anything for Christie, it proved that she was unlikely to have sex for a long time. Unless she took Danny back. Whenever that thought intruded she shoved in a dark corner. Thinking that way only led to pain. He wouldn't come back after the way she hurt him, whether she allowed it or not. Having made this realization, though, Christie decided to have her IUD removed. She'd kept it after Steve's death because the risks of pregnancy with Danny were too great, and it hadn't been time to remove it anyway. She'd had birth control continuously for twenty years. Maybe it was time to go natural. She sat in the crowded doctors' office, surrounded by children and their parents, pregnant women, young single women probably taking care of birth control like her, older women facing menopause. The many stages of womanhood. Christie watched a toddler push a truck around on the carpeted play area and make wet raspberry noises. Looking at that sweet child, she didn't think of Danny's childhood, but of the children she never had. Christie steadfastly tried to be unemotional, but in odd moments it hit her, the enormity of what Steve had done to her life, what she'd let him do. Beating her was the very least of it. Everything she'd dreamed of had been lost. Her wedding day had been a tense, joyless affair full of all the wrong types of emotions -- her own dread, her parents' concern, Steve's smug possessiveness. The few guests left early and didn't seem to enjoy themselves much. She went on to a college career that was nothing like she'd planned. At fifteen, Christie wanted nothing more than to be a preschool teacher. Back then she was a typical teenage girl who loved babies and kittens and thought the worst thing that could ever happen to her would be not being asked to the junior prom. She decided on the law as a way to ensure she could survive without Steve supporting her, and to also help her understand the legal quagmire of the murder Mike had committed and her complicity in covering it up. Even their home had not been what Christie dreamed of, that monstrosity of a house that made Steve feel like he had come up in the world. She hadn't hated it, but it never felt comfortable or put her at ease. Her new, smaller house was much more to her taste, and she and Danny had had two wonderful years there. She'd wanted a family. A large catholic family full of children. Her eyes burned, and she closed them for a moment. Beside her sat two men, obviously a couple, with a little girl. The child smiled at her and waved a fist wet from sucking on it. "Teething?" Christie asked. "Yes," one of the said. "How old is she?" "Just turned one." She looked at the two men. Just a few decades ago their love would have been illegal, yet for hundreds of years men and women like them had found ways to be together. They lived with it, with the secrets, the lies, and the hardships. Christie knew that her situation was different, that incest was illegal for a good reason, but birth control had eliminated much of that concern. In that moment, Christie understood. She'd been wanting a life that could no longer happen. Not because she was too old, but because she was no longer that fifteen-year-old girl. Because she had spent twenty years mourning its loss, she never looked around and realized that there were other ways to be happy. "I wouldn't be living with them. I'd be with you!" Danny had said. Twenty-two years old and he'd been far wiser than his mother. Christie got up to leave. She would keep her IUD because, somehow, she was going to convince Danny to forgive her. >>> Photographs Ch. 13 On Christmas Eve, Pedro went looking for Danny and found him crouched in the corner of the bed where it was shoved against two walls. His knees pressed against his chest and he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of Jack Daniels rested against a pillow beside him. Danny hadn't even bothered to place it on the nightstand. It didn't take Pedro's intelligence to figure out that Danny was drunk. "Hey, man, want to go to nochebuena with my family and then midnight mass? We'll have a good dinner after." Pedro tried, knowing it would probably be futile. "You can meet my family. My cousin Margarita is really hot, and she wants to meet you." Pedro wondered if he really wanted to expose sweet Margarita to Danny when he was depressed and drunk, but he knew, deep down, that he was a good person. Troubled, sure, but he didn't seem the type to be a lifelong drunk. Danny was just going through a rough patch over his breakup with whatever whore had done this to him. That's what Pedro still told himself, but he was beginning to wonder. "I don't think I'm in a state to meet your family right now," Danny said, echoing Pedro's thoughts. Pedro picked up the bottle. It was half full, but he didn't know when Danny had purchased it. "Then quit drinking, get some sleep, and head home in the morning. If you left early enough, you could be there by noon. It's Christmas, man. You need your family." Danny only wrapped his arms tighter around his knees and pressed his head into them. "She made me leave. I'm not going to go crawling back." "What if she asked you to?" Danny raised his head, looking off into nowhere. "Depends." Pedro reached for the photograph that still lay face down on the nightstand. "Can I?" he asked. His roommate stared at it for a moment. "Sure," he said with resignation. "Go ahead." Picking it up with careful fingers, as if it were as precious to him as it obviously was to Danny, Pedro turned over the photograph to find one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. "Wow," he said. She was leaning on some kind of counter, her chin on her fist, a genuine smile on her face that expressed happiness and love. "When was this taken? She looks like she's not much older than you." "A couple years ago. I took it myself." "How old is she now?" "Thirty-eight." Pedro did mental math. "So...she was sixteen when you were born?" She didn't look like the type of woman to have a teen pregnancy, used up and cheap. Instead she seemed intelligent, like she had her shit together. "When she was fifteen, she was raped," Danny explained. "Ah." He stared at the photo a moment longer. She really was beautiful. "Danny, what the hell did you do to make her kick you out? You're a good guy, and I know you didn't drink this much before you came here." Later, Pedro would reflect that Danny had probably been drunker than he seemed, because he answered, "I slept with her." Pedro froze, then sank to the bed, the bottle still in one hand and the photo in the other. "How many times?" "For over four years." He stared down at the photo in his hands, trying to imagine it. "She doesn't look like the type of woman who would sleep with her son." "She wasn't. It took me four months to seduce her." "Shit, no wonder you drink. Man, that is fucked up." Pedro didn't know what to think of this. He had an uncle that got too friendly with the teenage girls and had to be watched whenever he visited, but somehow he suspected this was different. "You were over eighteen?" "Yeah." "And she never came on to you?" "No." "But then she let it go on for over four years?" "We were happy," Danny said, his voice heated. "Really happy, and that's something she didn't have since the day she was raped. My dad was a sociopath. Their marriage was totally fucked up. He blackmailed her into marrying him, liked to beat her during sex, and she had no way to leave. I made her happy. We were happy," he repeated. He looked over at his roommate. Danny was finally looking back at him. Pitiless, Pedro said, "You know you're going to hell." "Good thing I don't believe in it." "Why'd she kick you out? Didn't you say you could go to UCLA med?" "She did it 'for my own good'," he said sarcastically. "'I need to have the chance to have a normal life and a family of my own'." "She's right." "You don't know anything about it." Pedro stood. "Why don't you come to mass, man. You can still make confession, and if anybody needs to confess, it's you." "No thanks." Pedro placed the photograph back where it had been, lying face down. When he put the bottle beside it, he noticed a pale, oval pill lying on the nightstand. "You haven't taken any Xanax tonight?" "I'm fine." Pedro wanted to open the nightstand drawer to see if he could find the bottle and remove it, but Danny chose that moment to actually pay attention to what was going on around him. He hoped -- prayed in a short, silent prayer -- that there wasn't more, and surreptitiously palmed the pill as he drew his hand away. "We're having dinner after mass. I was gonna sleep at the house of mi tía, but I think I'll come home. See you in a few hours." "Have fun." "Go to sleep, hombre. Don't drink anymore." Danny took a sip and raised his glass to his friend. "Sure thing, hombre." ##### Margarita pouted a little when she found that the "handsome med student" wouldn't be attending their nochebuena. Danny was smart and headed for a lucrative career, which made his absence disappointing for his aunt, as well. His uncle just grunted and poured Pedro a glass of wine that he had little intention of drinking. Seeing Danny as he was had spoiled his appetite for alcohol. Margarita grabbed his upper arm. "You said you would bring him." Then the younger cousins crowded around and rescued him from her. The nochebuena celebration was cheerful and noisy, colored lights twinkled everywhere and the house smelled delicious, but Pedro found it difficult to relax and enjoy himself. Every few minutes he would see someone with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer, and think of Danny, hurt and lonely and drinking alone. He also could not stop himself from fingering the Xanax pill in his pocket, his worry increasing every hour. Three hours after leaving Danny, Pedro said goodbye to his aunt and uncle and his cousins, much to their dismay. He had refrained from drinking, thinking of the hour-long drive back to his apartment. "You will miss mass," his aunt complained. "I'll try to go in Sunnyvale," he said. "Maybe get Danny to attended." It was still early, just ten o'clock, when he returned to the apartment. A light shone from Danny's room, and he called out to him the moment he entered. An ominous silence greeted him, no movement. He hurried to the doorway. Danny lay on his back, apparently sleeping. Pedro scanned the room, taking in the glass that had slipped to spill whiskey beside him on the bed, the bottle now only a quarter full. What really caught his attention was the bottle of Xanax on the nightstand. Alarmed, Pedro went to it. The bottle lay on its side, a small number of pills spilled over the surface. There weren't many remaining, but there was no way of knowing if Danny took only one from a mostly empty bottle, or had tried to overdose with a handful. Turning to the bed, he lifted Danny's wrist and found a faint, slow pulse. His breaths came not nearly fast enough. "Damn!" Pedro swore as he reached for his cell phone to call 911. "Damn damn damn!" He kept the line open with the emergency services, so he could remain by Danny's side until the last moment before he had to let the paramedics in. They soon arrived, worked efficiently, and quickly bundled Danny onto a stretcher and rolled him to a waiting ambulance. After asking where they were taking him, Pedro returned to search Danny's room. He had a phone number to find. He was going to call Danny's mother. ##### Danny woke to a raging headache, fire in his throat, and no knowledge of where he was or how he got there. He wiped a crust from his bleary eyes and looked around. "Mr. MacAwley?" a woman's voice said. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "Mr. MacAwley?" He concentrated and a woman came into focus, standing by the bed he was lying in. "Where am I?" he rasped through his burning throat. "Hospital." A tray on wheels was at the bedside, holding a pink plastic pitcher and matching cups. The nurse poured a cup of water, placed a straw in it, and held it to his lips. She wore fuchsia scrubs, incongruously bright in the dim room. With his aching eyes and head, the color disoriented him, swimming in and out of focus. The water helped his throat enough for him to ask, "What happened?" "You tried to commit suicide," she said with a touch of asperity. He frowned. "I did?" "That's what it looks like. Xanax and alcohol. We had to pump your stomach. That's why your throat hurts so bad." "I don't think I meant to." He barely whispered, but she seemed to hear him as she 'hmmphed'. "When can I go home?" "That's for the doctor to decide." Her expression softened, and she helped him drink some more water to swallow a pain killer. "You could get out a little sooner if we had someone to take custody of you. Do you have family we could call?" Did he have family? Uncle Mike? Uncle Sean? How could he ever explain to them what brought him down this road? Mom. He wanted his mother so badly right then he could forgive her for anything. Whatever opinions she held, this trumped them. "Mom. I want my mom." "I'm here." In the dim room, her figure was just a silhouette against the lighted doorway. Then she stepped forward and his heart turned over. "Christie." "Could we be alone?" his mother asked. "Certainly." Christie remained where she stood by the door, watching as the nurse left and then closing the door behind her. First dropping her purse in a chair, she came to stand by the bed, her hands at her sides. She watched him but didn't speak, a lovely shadow at his side. "Christie?" He ached to reach out to her, but she stood out of reach. She didn't move forward or speak, and he realized that tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Christie?" he repeated. "Did you try to kill yourself?" He hands flexed a little. "Did you?" "No. Of course not. It was an accident." "You're a med student, Danny. You had to have known what taking Xanax would do with that much alcohol." Her tone was light but held an unforgiving note that made him hurt even more than he already did. "I really don't remember, I don't. I don't remember actually trying to take too much." She stared at the floor for a moment, then looked back at his face. "While I was waiting for my flight, I had a long talk with Pedro. It's seems you've been trying to kill yourself for a long time." "Fucking traitor," he muttered. The pain-killer started working and the throbbing in his head abated. "Do you blame me? Do you?" She stepped forward into the light. It shocked him to see how thin she was. The hollows of her cheeks had deepened, her blouse hung loosely at her stomach. His mother had lost at least fifteen pounds she didn't need to lose. He wondered if their separation had been as hard on her as it had on him. She wrapped her hands around the rail at the edge of the bed. She looked tired, and more defeated than he had ever seen her, even in the worst of her marriage. "I don't blame you, Danny. I blame me." Danny knew that all through her marriage, adversity had made her strong. She would take a beating that would break many women and come out the other side more determined than ever to save herself. She fought for him, she fought for her family, clients, friends, and she fought for herself. But today... never had she seemed so lost to him. He raised his hand to cover hers. She quickly gripped it painfully tight. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And because I had been so miserable for so long, I thought that what would make you happy was the things I never had for myself. A happy marriage to someone who loved you desperately, a house that was a real home not just a building to live in, the freedom to have as many children of your own as your heart desired." "Mom, I never wanted the fucking picket fence," he said. His words were harsh, but his tone was more exasperation. "With you I was more than happy. I was content." "I know that now." The tears started falling harder, her voice breaking. "We have a love that I just failed to understand. It was enough for you, and me. For both of us, and I nearly destroyed us both because of my idiocy." He reached up to put his arms around her. She leaned forward, sobbing softly now, to rest her forehead against his. Slowly, her arms edged under his torso to encircle him. She whispered, "Please come home." Something unclenched in his chest and a weight slid off of him that he hadn't realized he was carrying. He smiled and for a moment he reveled in it, a strange sensation of lightness. He realized he hadn't smiled for a very long time. Still, she had hurt him too badly for complete trust. "For how long?" he asked. She pressed her lips against his, salty and wet with tears, for a quick, fierce kiss. "Forever." He pulled her to him, tighter, closer, and said, "I'd like to see you try and stop me." ###### It took until the next morning for the doctor to release Danny into Christie's custody. Physically, he was recovered, but alcohol called to him. Christie wondered how far he had fallen into alcoholism, but Danny seemed determined to fight it. "I'm with you again," he told her as they drove away from the hospital, having already admitted the need for a drink. "I want to enjoy that sober." She reached out and patted his knee and squeezed his hand before turning her attention back to traffic. "I packed some things at your place," she said. "I'd rather not camp out at your apartment, and I thought you would want to be with me." "Hotel?" "Yes. For today, at least. We'll make plans later." "Sounds good." She had already searched for a hotel and made reservations on her phone, so the trip was short and full of anticipation for both of them. They had kissed a little in the hospital, but Danny hadn't felt fully recovered until just before his release and neither wanted to risk discovery. Both of them exchanged small smiles as she retrieved the key for a two-room suite they only intended to use half of. No embarrassment or shame. This would be their life now, and both were willing to embrace it. The moment the door closed behind them, a "do not disturb" sign hung on the knob, the bags were dropped carelessly to the floor, and Danny pushed Christie against the wall. His hands were everywhere, wanting to feel her again. He yanked at the zipper of her jeans and pushed them roughly down off her hips. She detached her lips from his only long enough to shimmy out of them, kicking them away from her feet. "Bed," she said when he took a breath. "Bed would be good." But her legs wrapped around his hips and he had her pinned to the wall. Danny responded by lowering his jeans to free his cock and then thrusting it into her. He growled low in his throat and pistoned his cock into and out of her fast. Frantic. He had to claim her before she was gone again, no matter what promises she made. "Promise me," he growled. "I promise," she said. "Forever." "Forever." He didn't want to hold back; he didn't even try. He came quickly and climaxed with a soft cry. Christie kept her legs wrapped around him, breathed hard, and relished the feel of his weight pressing against her, but Danny seemed to be struggling, his breathing far to ragged for such a young man, sweat on his brow. He had ruined his health. She lowered her legs and took his hand. "Come on," she said, leading him to the nearest bed. Cum dripped between her thighs. There was so much of it, as if he had been saving up. She helped him remove his clothing and removed the rest of her own, then had him wait while she cleaned up. She returned to find him smiling at her, curled up on the bed like a smug, lazy cat. He started to stiffen again while she wiped the cum from his cock with a warm wet wash cloth. He reached for her, but she said, "Not yet. There is something I would like to talk about." She sat cross-legged at his side, giving him a lovely view of her pussy, which he couldn't resist trying to fondle. "Not yet," she said again with a smile, pushing his hand away. "What?" She took a deep breath. "I would like you to stay at Stanford." "Christie, no!" He turned his body away from hers and threw a forearm over his eyes. "No! You promised!" He shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "Would you listen? I'm not done. I want to move here with you." The arm lowered a fraction. "You do?" "I've thought about this a lot, for a long time. What we would have to do if we could stay together forever." She smiled. "I always dreamed of it, even if I never thought we should." This time when he reached for her, she didn't resist, coming to lie alongside him. "Most of the family is in LA," she said. "They are in and out of our home, and we would be under a lot of scrutiny. I think we should use this as an opportunity. Say that I want you to stay in school, but you need me near you. We'll rent a house. Be together." "Houses are even more expensive up here than down there." He wondered why he was arguing, but he wanted to be certain she wouldn't back away when she saw the obstacles they faced. She had hurt him. "Steve left me loaded." "You would have to close your practice." She agreed. "That and selling the house will keep me in LA for a few months. Can you handle that?" "You would return every weekend," he said sternly. "I'll try to stay even longer than that." "Christie." He sighed. "I never wanted to be like Steve. I don't want to be obsessed with you or try to own you, but I want you to know that I won't go easily ever again." "Honey, you're the one who has to worry. If you ever leave me, I will stalk you. You'll bring dates home and find me hiding in your bathtub." "Would you have a camera?" he asked. "Nope. Two dozen chocolate chip cookies." "You're not my mother anymore," he said, but he laughed. Whatever she was, she was his, and that was all that had ever mattered. The End AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, thank you for sticking with this to the end. Truthfully, I was unsure of the reception this story would get. Everything I write is, at heart, a romance, and this story is no different. At a stretch, it could be called romantic erotica, but it is by no means the pure porn that predominates on this site. Hence the warning at the beginning of each chapter. I suppose it weeded out the people who were expecting tons of sex, because I've had no complaints on that score. I posted Photographs here because the incest theme made it impossible to post on any other forum. I've had enough comments about why Danny doesn't man-up and defend his mom that I wanted to talk about him a little. Danny is the sweetest, gentlest character I've ever created. He isn't even capable of putting a dying bird out of its misery. I included the birds to drive this point home. He might fantasize about killing Steve, he might want to, but there is no way he could ever go through with it. I knew Steve had to die, if not just for karma but because he knew too many secrets, but his death was one of the last things I wrote. I simply could not figure out who would do it. The closest I came with Danny was his trying to kill Steve but backing out. (It finally came to me that, duh, Christie had to do it. She was the victim. It was her right.) Photographs Ch. 13 Even though he's one of my favorite characters I've ever written, I do have to admit that Danny is weak. He accepted Christie's orders not to interfere with her marriage. He didn't fight Christie very hard when she told him to leave. Then when faced with his first true grief and hardship in life, he totally fell apart. Christie has the opposite problem. She's so strong, and so used to taking on responsibility for others' choices, that she never questions her right to make them even when they're telling her she's wrong. She is also a woman who has grown used to holding up under the weight of a lot of misery. Together, Christie and Danny balance each other out, I like to think. She's his support; he's her reason for warmth. Thank you, Werewoman