A Willing Participant #03

Chapter 1

Hours later...

Travis came out of his bedroom expecting to find his mother exactly how, and where he'd left her, lying naked and unconscious on the living room floor with her ass leaking cum, his cum, but she wasn't. She'd gotten up and put back on what she'd been wearing as pajamas, the skimpy little boxers shorts and the too small T-shirt he'd torn off her earlier.

She was now sitting at the kitchen table hunched over an orange juice cocktail with her head in her hands and her long dark hair hanging down over her face. She looked as though she was physically and emotionally drained, and lost in her own troubling thoughts.

Knowing he'd be in trouble and feeling the tension, he stood cautiously at the entrance to the kitchen.

She must have sensed his presents because she didn't look up when she spoke.

"You should leave." She said flatly never looking up from her drink.

"What do you mean?" He asked defensively. Her comment was like an angry jab in the stomach.

"You should go live with your father." She said, still not looking up at him.

"Is that what you want!? Do you want me to move out!?" He asked in an angry, accusing tone.

"Yes... No... I don't know... I just know that if we stay together in this house it will happen again."

"No!... Why?!... He doesn't want me! No! This isn't my fault!" He said with the tension and frustration rising in his voice. He sounded angry, but enough of a childish whine came through reminding Mary that despite the forceful fuck he'd dealt her, he was still more a boy than a man.

"I'm not saying it's your fault. We're both responsible. It's as much my fault as it is yours, but if we stay together in this house it might happen again. It WILL happen again. I know it will."

Mary couldn't voice it at the time, but she feared her own weaknesses and obsessions more than his. He'd just brutally forced himself on her, but the truth was she let it happen. She, with her outright flirting and inappropriate dress had intentionally created a sexually tense environment that encouraged his forceful aggressions. And the brutal rough sex? She'd loved every second of it, but was ashamed to admit it.

Travis was devastated. His mother even suggesting that he move out hurt him deeply. He felt rejected. Stunned, he couldn't believe his mother was doing this to him.

"NO! I'm not leaving! You can't make me! This is all your fault! You made this happen!" Travis yelled at his mother then spun around and stormed back into his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

This mess was her fault. Mary couldn't deny that. That was exactly how she felt.

Travis threw the door open and yelled from his bedroom: "If you weren't such a fuck'n slut this would never have happened!" He then again slammed the door shut.

He's right, Mary thought with regret. I am a fuck'n slut.

Chapter 2

Mary never went through with her threat. Outwardly she tried her best to conceal her incestuous desires, but secretly, she indulged in wild perverse fantasies. Fantasies that didn't always, but very often included her handsome young, and impressively hung teenage son.

She had never thought of him in that way before, not before that night in the woods, but now she couldn't stop. She was obsessed, thinking about her son constantly, remembering and fantasizing about the incredible sex she'd had with him TWICE. The memories not only haunted, but also aroused her.

True he had been forceful, but she could have stopped him if she'd truly wanted to. In fact, it was his forcefulness that aroused her so much.

After allowing her son to fuck her, Mary believed that he'd be trying to have sex with her all the time, but quite the opposite happened. After their argument, their unresolved issues created a barrier between them, weeks went by and Mary hardly saw him. She knew that Travis had taken the threat of his moving out hard, and that he was doing his best to avoid her, and that he was leaving the house early morning and returning late in the evening just to avoid crossing paths with her.

A couple of times, she waiting up for him so that they could talk and hopefully mend their damaged relationship, but all that got her was a door slammed in her face.

Desperately searching for a way to fix their damaged relationship, Mary wrote her son a note and taped it to his bedroom door where she was sure he would find it.

Travis,

I love you and I'm sorry I got so upset.

And I'm sorry if I hurt you.

I admit that it was all my fault.

I just want things to get back to the way they were.

And I want you to know that no matter what happens I'll never make you move out.

Love, Mom

After reading the note she'd written, Mary took it down thinking it sounded too much like an invitation, and that she was giving in to him. She then taped it back on his door. Maybe she was giving in...

It wasn't much, but she hoped it would be a start. After that, she decided to let him have his space.

Mary regretted the rift she'd created. The accusations that her threats implied were unfair. It WAS her fault, she believed that. Just to satisfy her own selfish needs, she had irresponsibly and incestuously teased, taunted and encouraged her son's advances.

She was now lonely and frustrated, longing for the closeness they had once shared. She missed how they used to tease and flirt with each other. But it hadn't taken long before things escalated, and got out of control.

She tormented herself, thinking that she should have predicted what happened. Perhaps she had known, but just didn't want to admit it.

Her own son had forced himself on her, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. The memories of what happened aroused her and she couldn't stop reliving them in her mind.

Regret, shame and longing turned to lonely bitter frustration. Mary had been so sure that her son would again try to fuck her. And knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist him, she had accepted, and was even eagerly anticipating the role she would play. So when his advances never came, she felt rejected and disappointed.

Why was it so easy for him to ignore her, she wondered? She tortured herself trying to answer that question. Maybe she wasn't the great fuck she'd thought she was. Maybe he was grossed out by her big fat old ass. Or maybe he'd come to his senses, as so should she.

She tried to fight it, but ugly jealousies fed by painful insecurities crept in. Where did he go and who was he with all the time he was away? Was he fucking some skinny little high school slut? Even if he was, that would be perfectly normal and she should have been happy for him, but she wasn't. The thought was making her crazy.

FUCK HIM! She thought with a festering animosity. I don't need him. I got my toys and my imagination that's all I need. That's all I've ever needed. They're bigger and better than he'll ever be; she told herself but didn't really believe it. At least they'll never disappoint or leave me, and they always manage to satisfy. He was just like all the other men who had passed through her life, once they got what they wanted, they left her lonely and frustrated, she thought bitterly.

As she had for years, to dull and ease the pain of her frustration and anxiety, Mary turned to her toys, and to obsessive and sometimes self-abusive masturbation.

The vicious cycle rolled on.

Chapter 3

Mary had always masturbated, A LOT! But it was starting to get out of control. Fueled by aching needs and perverse fantasies, she was now masturbating compulsively, often 10 to 20 times a day. She masturbated obsessively, and not only at home but also at work and anywhere else she could get away with it.

Her life, her 'self' and her psyche were twisting into a perverse expression of her own obsessive dark desires. Incessantly possessed with thoughts, memories and fantasies of deviant, often incestuous sex, she lived in a near constant state of desperate arousal were she was starting to lose touch with reality.

Controlled by the demands of an insatiable need, Mary also began masturbating in increasingly inappropriate places. The more inappropriate and risky, the more it excited her, and heightened the experience.

Masturbating in the privacy of her own home wasn't enough for her anymore. Ironically, she often held off masturbating or at least cumming before leaving the house, preferring to get herself off during her morning commute. There was something about exposing, and wildly fingering herself while driving down the highway that satisfied some deep need in Mary. Becoming quite practiced at masturbating behind the wheel, Mary often came several times before even reaching work.

At work, no longer frightened by the lights going on and off by themselves in the vacant upstairs restroom, she spent most of her free time, naked in a stall, wildly fingering herself to multiple, exhaustive orgasms.

Accommodating her compulsive need to masturbate brought a change in wardrobe. Nothing slutty or overly eye-catching, she just rarely wore pants anymore, instead opting for skirts and dresses, which gave her quick and easy access whenever she had an opportunity to touch herself.

Along with the dresses came a change in undergarments, NONE to be exact. She stopped wearing underwear altogether, no bra, no panties. Underwear just got in the way of her obsessive masturbating.

Not wanting to attract any unwanted attention by the obvious fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, at work, she always made sure to wear a light weight sweater over her dress or blouse to help cover and conceal her huge, ever erect, protruding nipples.

Unable to confine her workplace masturbation to the vacant upstairs restroom, Mary become embolden enough, when no one was around, to masturbate in her cubical while sitting at her desk. It had become

a thrilling challenge to discreetly get herself off in that semi-private, yet still very public place, and she got quite good at it. Able to conceal her orgasms, she would cum several times a day while sitting at her desk pretending to work.

Once, Mary even had an orgasm right in front of her bitchy supervisor Susan.

While sitting at her desk with her eyes on her computer monitor, she tried to appear busy at work, but actually had a hand in her dress, and was secretly flicking and rubbing her big fat throbbing clit.

She was almost there... almost ready to cum... Then Susan walked up and surprised her.

Mortified that she'd been caught, Mary froze!

Self-absorbed and clueless as to what Mary was actually doing under the desk, Susan stood on the other side of the low cubical wall, droning on about the pressing need to finish up some bull-shit reports before the end of the quarter.

Mary couldn't stop!

She had been so close to cumming that she just couldn't stop rubbing her fat throbbing clit! Realizing that Susan had no idea what she was doing, Mary sat there calmly, continuing to secretly rub her stiff erect clit under the desk while pretending to give Susan her full attention. With one arm resting casually on the desk, and the other seemingly resting in her lap, Mary continued to wildly flick at her swollen clit while maintaining complete composure.

She had gotten so practiced at discreetly concealing her orgasms that she came right in front of her supervisor, and the bitch never had a clue. At the peak of her climax, Mary did convulse and moan just a bit, but skillfully concealed it with a cough and a well-timed shifting of her legs. After Susan left, Mary calmly got up and went upstairs to the restroom where she spent the next fifteen minutes masturbating.

The only thing Mary remembered Susan saying was, that Mary had four personal days that needed to use before the end of the quarter or she would lose them.

There was no denying that Mary's excessive masturbation was starting to affect her work. At the end of the day, she dragged herself home exhausted. Not only had she climaxed repeatedly and exhaustively throughout the day, she still needed to get her work done. She had no choice but to stay late and make up for all the time spent obsessively masturbating.

It was that way every day.

Chapter 4

Mary had spent the weekend as usual, cleaning, shopping and masturbating, and not necessarily in that order. She liked to keep a clean house, but even that was starting to slip. Not that anyone ever came over except for Travis's friends and she hadn't seen any of them in a while. Housework was becoming more and more a chore, because anymore, all Mary wanted to do was to masturbate.

Mary's compulsive masturbation was not only affected her work but every aspect of her life, even normal daily activities like going to the grocery store where even there she was unable to control herself. She found it exciting and stimulating to touch herself when no one was watching, while walking the aisles of her local market.

While browsing a deserted store aisle, she would nonchalantly squeeze and sometimes, very briefly, expose her breast, pinch and pull on her big nipples, then quickly cover up. Sometimes she would slide a hand up her dress, and push a probing finger into her wet pussy, then draw the wet finger up over her throbbing clit before quickly fixing her dress.

Up and down the aisles she would wander, teasing herself when no one was around. She moved quickly and very discreetly, and God forbid if anyone saw, hopefully it would appear as only an indiscreet garment adjustment. Obviously she never came doing any of this, it was just a growing compulsion to publicly touch and stimulate herself.

Mary wasn't an exhibitionist. The last thing she wanted was to be seen touching herself in public. It was the RISK that excited and aroused her. It was an additive high that she couldn't get control of.

On one particular shopping trip...

By the time Mary had gathered up the few groceries she needed, she'd gotten herself so worked-up that as she approached the checkout, her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breathing was shallow and labored. Her face was flushed with arousal, and her nipples were painfully hard and pointed. Her hugely erect clit throbbed and demanded immediate and thorough attention, and her pussy was so wet that juices were beginning to drip down her thighs.

Working that day at the grocery store was a bag-boy she liked, and who was also the subject of more than a few of Mary's fantasies. His name was Adrian. He was young, about her son's age, quite tall and lean with very wide shoulders, though not overly muscular. He was handsome with dark skin and long wavy black hair. Mary guessed he was of Middle Eastern descent.

He wore his wavy dark hair long and parted slightly to the side, which caused it to hang partially over his face, reminding Mary of when she was a teen and boys wore their hair longer. He also had a faint

English accent that reminded her of Harry Potter from the movies, even though he looked nothing like him.

As Mary's groceries were being rang up, the boy as always, engaged her in pleasant conversation. As he efficiently worked and talked, Mary amusingly noticed that the boy's gaze kept returning to and darting over her ample cleavage.

Despite her good looks and abundant attributes, Mary was very shy and insecure by nature, a trait that worsened after her divorce. Hence all the lonely nights masturbating. Despite her tendency to be introverted, Mary was very attracted to this boy and welcomed his eyes upon her. Turning towards him, she leaned slightly in his direction, giving him the best view she could discreetly offer.

After she'd paid for her groceries, the boy dutifully stood behind her cart asking if he could help her out.

From anyone else she would have politely declined but she happily accepted his offer.

As the two walked through the parking lot towards Mary's car, despite his apparent efforts NOT to stare, the boy's gaze kept irresistibly returning to and languished upon Mary's bouncing breast. His obvious interest gave her the confidence to talk with him and ask where he was from.

"I was born in London." He said. "My parents are from Iraq. They moved to England before I was born, and we moved to the U.S. when I was ten."

He recited it like he'd said it a million times, and Mary was sure he nearly had, but still he managed to make it sound pleasant.

Far into the expansive parking lot, well past where most of the other customers park, Mary apologized: "Sorry I'm parked so far out. You know shopping carts..." Mary lied, as there was nothing special about her 2009 Ford Taurus. It was far from flawless with plenty of scratches, dings and dents. She'd parked in the deserted, far reaches of the parking lot for another reason.

After Adrian loaded the bags of groceries in her trunk...

Nothing happened.

Mary offered him a dollar tip, which he at first politely refused, then quickly took from her hand before running back to the store pushing the empty cart ahead of him.

Sitting alone in her car, in the far reaches of the parking lot, Mary had a wet longing between her thighs, partly from fondling herself in the store, and also from the brief encounter with the exotic young man.

Watching in the rear view mirror as the boy ran back towards the store, Mary wished she had the nerve to seduce the boy, but sadly, she lacked the self-confidence.

Sitting motionless for a moment in her car and after taking a deep breath, Mary psyched herself up for what she was about to do. She then nervously reclined her seat, and with shaking hands, excitedly untied the sash to her wrap-around dress.

Chapter 5

Behind the shadowy vale of tinted glass, Mary opened her dress. Without any underwear on, she exposed her nakedness in the deserted parking lot, and while entertaining an elaborate fantasy of seduction, she began touching herself.

...

I open my purse pretending to look for a tip. I lie, saying I don't have any cash. He of course says it's no problem, but I insist.

"Wait!" I say. "I have some cash in my car."

Again he says it's not necessary, but I insist. I tell him to get in the car, and he just looks at me confused.

"Come on, get in. Get out of the sun." I say. "Sit in the car while I look for some cash. It'll be cooler."

He looks unsure and reluctant, but gets in anyway. The customer is always right, even though it wasn't cooler.

After coaxing the boy into my car, I lean over, resting my arm on his leg as I pointlessly rummage through the glove compartment. I know there's no cash in there but I keep pretending to search, and as I search, I purposely push my elbow between his thighs. I feel him tense, and then relax, and I can sense his nervousness.

With my arm pressed between the boy's thighs, while pretending to search the glove compartment, I slowly inch my arm back into his crotch. There I find exactly what I was hoping to find, his big stiff erection pressing against the back of my arm. I smile to myself as I close the glove compartment.

Rising up, I lean in close, putting my hand on his thigh, very close to the hard cock I know hides there.

"I'm sorry. I guess I don't have any cash after all." I say with a sheepish grin!

The boy stares at me with wide eyes and an open mouth.

As I had been leaning over searching the glove compartment, the front of my dress pulled open, nearly exposing my big braless tits. I hadn't planned it; it was just a happy accident.

The boy's eyes are transfixed. He can't tear his eyes away from my opened dress. After a moment he manages to mumble: "Aaaa, that's okay. No tip... It's okay."

His eyes are glued to my tits! My nipples very hard and erect, and barely covered by my open dress. I make no attempt to fix my dress or to cover myself.

"No. I want to give you something. You've always been so helpful. You deserve to be rewarded. I want to give you... something?" I say as I arch my back and stretch, making my already big tits even more prominent. He stares at my nearly exposed breast looking even more confused and more than a little shaken.