The Blue Life Ch. 06: Red’s Life

      Yorum yok The Blue Life Ch. 06: Red’s Life

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal

This is a work of fiction. All the characters are 18+. There are themes of Incest, BDSM and bisexuality in the story. If any of this stuff turns you off, stroke on to another story. This chapter contains some major character development, but not much climactic sex. I thought about combining this with the next chapter, but then it seemed too long. Ratings and comments are welcome.

***********************

I woke up with Mom in my bed. Normally, when I wake up with Mom in my bed, she has my cock in her mouth. It’s our routine. She is normally my alarm clock. Not that there’s anything “normal” about regularly waking up to oral pleasure from your mother. But Mom is my sexual submissive. She enjoys her tasks. It’s a great start to our day. We don’t end up having sex every morning. Most mornings, I won’t finish in her mouth. Some mornings, we make love. Other mornings I might discipline her and we might have rough sex. We play it by ear, depending on our moods and our schedules. Often, I have classes in the morning I have to get to, or work for classes that needs to get done, and there isn’t time for sex. But that just leaves us both with a hunger that lasts all day long. What we have time for and what we could do with each other used to depend on whether Dad was in the house or traveling for business, or off to work on an early commute, because we had been hiding our affair. But thankfully, those days of hiding and sneaking around Dad’s back are over.

Early this morning, Mom had come to me in the middle of the night. She was feeling guilty, confused and unsettled. I’m her Master, her sexual dominant, so I calmed her down with some discipline and then lovemaking. My mother orgasmed from both, and then we fell back asleep in each other’s arms, together in my bed.

My mother and I had had a sexual affair behind my father’s back that only lasted about three months. Well, technically, it was six months. But for the first three months of that, Mom and I only corresponded through the internet, chat rooms, instant messages, and emails. Then later, it was voice chats and phone sex. So for the first three months or so, our sexual relationship was almost completely virtual, not directly physical. But, it had rapidly progressed from sharing mutual fantasies, to mutual, simultaneous masturbation, and then to games of Dominance and submission. Small things at first, Truth or Dare games. Challenges. Then later, tasks. Finally, it was a promise of devotion and complete submission and servitude. My mother promised to be my slut, servant and slave online, before she even knew who her Master really was! It was either a major leap of faith on my mother’s part, or she strongly suspected her online Dom was me, her son.

At first I convinced myself that I was acting something like a sex therapist for Mom. She was relieving her sexual tension and frustration. And then later, when her tasks involved joining a gym and getting healthier, I thought of myself as a Life Coach. I saw that Mom’s physical transformation was giving her a boost of confidence and pride. And she was clearly happier.

I started to encourage her to get a new wardrobe too. We would Fantasy Window Shop online together for dresses or swimwear. Later it became lingerie and sex toys. I was surprised one day, when my Mom sent me a picture of herself in a brightly colored, floral print dress. The neckline wasn’t daring, but it was lower than all of Mom’s frump-wear. She had been stuck in a rut of wearing drab, unflattering, matronly clothing for years. It hid her body. And the colors were frankly depressing. I had asked her why she wore those kinds of clothes. And she said it was because she didn’t feel pretty, and didn’t want to call attention to herself.

Well, my mom was wrong. She’s beyond pretty. She’s gorgeous. She just didn’t know it. She still doesn’t know just how jaw-droppingly stunning she is now. She’s tall, at 5’9”, and has shapely, longs legs. Her flowing auburn hair and flashing green eyes frame and highlight a face that could belong to a model or actress. So, as her secret online confidante, I encouraged Mom’s transformation. I encouraged her to get new clothes, to lose a little weight, to get out and socialize more, and to masturbate more frequently. I know, that last one might seem strange. But I thought that getting in touch with her sexuality, and becoming attuned to her body was an integral part of her self-confidence. Plus, Mom would give me accounts of her progress online, including describing her masturbation sessions. And that was fucking hot! We started using her orgasms as motivational tools. We set a goal of losing twenty-five pounds. After she lost a couple pounds, she seemed to plateau. I suggested that for every pound she lost, I would give her some creative and exciting way to orgasm. After she lost 10 pounds was the first time we had phone sex.

I discovered that Mom is very suggestible. And that she can delay orgasm, pretty much just by telling her not to cum. And that, given the proper outside stimulation, she can also then cum on command. Both çankaya escort she and I find that incredibly exciting.

Mom rapidly went through a complete metamorphosis. She blossomed. She wasn’t as shy. She was more self assured. She began to wear brighter, sexier clothing. Her whole demeanor changed. I noticed, of course I noticed, I was guiding her transformation. But my Dad didn’t seem to notice at all! This frustrated my Mom. As her son, I noticed. I would compliment her new dresses, or her new hairstyle. I would encourage her with her workouts, and congratulate her on her progress. But, the more I did to validate Mom’s successes, the more Dad seemed like an emotional cypher in comparison. Sometimes I gave my Mom back or leg massages, when her muscles would knot up. I tried to keep from letting on that just touching her excited me beyond rational thought. Mom appreciated the attention. And because she thought Her son was flirting with her, she began flirting back.

Anyway, I was in a position of power. I was interacting with Mom as both her son, and as her anonymous, online confidante, masturbation partner, Life Coach, and eventually her Dom, and sexual Master. She confessed her attraction to her son, and her fantasies of Incest. As her confidante, I assured her that those sorts of fantasies were normal. That there was little harm in fantasizing. And frankly, I encouraged those fantasies. I challenged her to slowly take things farther and farther with her son. I would set her with little “flirtation tasks” to see if she could elicit a compliment from her son. Or later, as things heated up and became more brazen, to allow her son to “catch” her, wearing only a robe and with wet hair, as if she had just stepped from the shower.

Sometimes the challenges were to tease her husband with a quick flash of her breasts or to wear a sexy nighty to bed. Unfortunately, those tasks met with little success from my father’s reactions. He was either just too depressed or repressed to respond appropriately. This was the most frustrating element of Mom’s transformation. Because as she truly blossomed and came to love her newer, sexier self, the man she had chosen to share her life with just didn’t seem to notice or care!

And that started a cycle of Mom increasingly turning to her flirting with her Son, and serving her online Master to validate the woman she was becoming. By the time we agreed to finally “meet” face-to-face, I believe Mom had come to suspect, hope, fantasize, and pray that the Man she had allowed to open her sexually, and awaken this new woman inside, the Man who had captured her spirit and seemed to rule her desire was actually her Son! I’ve come to suspect that Mom had been consciously or subconsciously transforming me as well over those months, to be the epitome of her fantasies, the sexual Dominant of her desires.

After I revealed myself as my mother’s Master, we had a brief “Honeymoon Period” of exploration sex, and celebration sex, and sex and sex and sex and sex. It was glorious! I gave Mom her submissive name, “Blue.” I named her and claimed her.

But, sneaking around behind Dad’s back rapidly began to eat away at both me and especially my Mom. I also felt stifled as a Dominant. What’s the point of establishing Dominance and Control if you have to hide it?

So, I made the decision to reveal our affair to Dad. But I wasn’t just confessing our sexual relationship. I refused to feel guilty for making Blue happy and fulfilled. I was declaring my new position as Mom’s Master to Dad. Maybe it’s Oedipal, but I was declaring that I was the sexual Master of the House. I was ready to let the chips fall, and we could deal with the consequences. I didn’t know if that would mean Mom and Dad getting divorced. I wasn’t hoping for that. I actually had this strange notion that by taking my Mom as my submissive, I was saving their marriage.

I love my Dad. He just wasn’t satisfying Mom. He wasn’t giving enough to his family. I didn’t know if revealing our new D/s (Dominance and submission) relationship would mean me having to leave their house. I didn’t know if my Dad would have a seizure or breakdown. The last thing I expected to happen is what actually happened. Dad completely accepted my new role as Master of the House! He didn’t find the stark reality, of seeing me fuck his wife, as cruel. He thought it was amazing and beautiful. And the one thing I had never considered as a possibility happened, and my father became my sexual submissive as well!

It was mind blowing. A transformation, relationship and commitment that took months to develop with Mom, I had somehow gotten that same commitment from my Dad in just one very intense night. I didn’t even know my Dad was bisexual! I had no clue that I was even a little bisexual! And I’m not sure how bisexaul I am really. Maybe I’m just rationalizing things. But I don’t feel a strong sexual attraction to my father, or other men in general. But, I do have this strong sexual response to being Dominant. So, in a group scene with my mother and father, escort çankaya commanding him to please her is awesome. Instructing him to guide his son’s cock into his wife’s pussy is this power-thrill for me. And yes, having him submissively clean my cock after sex or “fluff me” (give me oral sex as a precursor to fucking my Mom) is a massive turn on. But, Dad had never brought me to orgasm. And neither of us had, well, fucked each other.

Dad had said that he had submissively committed his ass to his brother. That he could be my submissive, but he would not allow me to fuck him. That was fine, because I didn’t really want to fuck my Dad, especially if he wasn’t interested! Because, I wasn’t about to force my submissives to do something that they’re not into. That’s not submission, that’s coercion. I also have this strange notion that if I wanted my father to respect the relationship of Dominance and submission that I have with Blue (his wife), I had to try to respect Dad’s sexually submissive relationship with his my Uncle Nick. The only problem with that is, the more I learn about Dad’s relationship with Nick, the more abusive, twisted, and sick it seems. Nick doesn’t respect my Dad. So why should I respect Nick, or that twisted relationship?

I came downstairs that morning wearing sweat pants and a “Ramones” t-shirt. I was headed to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. I noticed dad sitting sullenly at the dinner table. He was already dressed, but not to go into work. He had on tan khakis, a red polo and brown deck shoes. He had a coffee and toast in front of him, but neither one was touched.

It was Saturday morning. I didn’t have school. And Dad didn’t have to go into the office, although he often did. Dad is a workaholic. He’s built a very successful Accounting and Actuarial Firm, McMillan Business Solutions. It’s a small company with a growing list of larger clients. I was just surprised Dad was up and still in the house, but things had been rapidly changing around our house.

“Good Morning, Dad! I’m getting some coffee. Can I join you for breakfast?”

No response. Just a blank stare at his own food. I was worried. I forgot my own breakfast for the moment and sat down at the table with him. I touched his hand. “Dad? You OK?”

Nothing.

“Are you mad? Dad?” Nothing seemed to be getting through. I tried something else. “Red,” I said. I used his submissive name, the name I generally only use to establish sexual dominance, when I’m wanting him to follow instructions. “Red, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.” My Dad said it blankly, still staring at his coffee.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but I was still worried.

“Red, Dad, I’d like to talk with you. Are you up for that?”

My father looked at me. “Your mother is in your bed. Does your mother hate me now? Do you hate me now?” It looked like my Dad was on the edge of tears, but had forgotten how to cry a long time ago. It was a very strange and heart-breaking expression.

I reached out and held his left hand. “No, Dad. We both love you very much. Very much. Mom was just confused about last night. She came upstairs in the middle of the night. We talked. I disciplined her. She settled down. So Blue and I made love and we fell back asleep. Are you upset about that? Are you mad about last night?”

My father closed his eyes. “You met Jillian. Right?”

“Yes, both Mom and I met Jillian. She’s nice. Do you remember any of that?”

“Not really. I remember showing your mother how to walk in her heels. I remember her being disappointed in me, because I knew how to walk in them better than she can.”

“That’s not how it happened, Dad. We were both impressed with how well you walk in Mom’s heels. Mom was upset that she’s still so clumsy in her “Fuck Me”-heels. And you said you had more practice wearing heels. And we asked you how. So you, well, you introduced us to Jillian.”

It’s hard to describe Jillian. I thought Jillian was a character that Dad was role playing. He’s very good at that, at play acting and taking on the mannerisms and voices of others. So, when I first met Jillian, I thought she was just my Dad in drag. But she’s more than that. I thought Jillian was just my father, wearing one of my mother’s dresses, a wig and some light make-up. But, she didn’t look like a drag queen, at least not how I think of drag queens. In fact she didn’t even look much like my Dad. She looked like a refined, thoroughly feminine, charming and very attractive woman. She’s lovely. Jillian is actually more pleasant and charismatic than my Dad. She seems a little shy, or maybe I should say demure, but she’s also more caring, friendly and warm than my Dad too. She’s soft and feminine. She’s fully a woman, but she has my Dad’s body. I find the whole thing pretty confusing, because I also find Jillian very attractive. I’m attracted to her sexually. And that’s not how I regularly feel about my Dad. I didn’t really want to fuck Dad, or at least I didn’t up until last night. But, last night changed everything again. çankaya escort bayan

Later, my mother convinced me that Dad probably has Multiple Personalities. She calls it Dissociative Identity Disorder. My mother had majored in psychology before she married my Dad and dropped out of school. Blue is convinced Jillian is a woman, and not exactly my Dad at all, or that she’s a hidden portion of my Dad that he had never felt comfortable enough to share with us before now. So, Jillian is actually a woman, maybe a transsexual woman trapped in my father’s male body! I know! It’s very confusing. I didn’t know if Jillian would want to have a sex change. I just know, she’s not exactly comfortable with having a penis, and not having breasts.

I’m not gay. At least, I don’t think I’m gay. But, I’m very attracted to Jillian. Maybe I’m bisexual. Seeing her as fully a woman, it partly explained my attraction to Jillian, and my eagerness to take her slender, feminine girlie-cock in my mouth to please her. Yeah, I did that. I think I’m drawn to her femininity. And I think she has a mutual attraction for me that we’d both like to explore. I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s a spark there. I can imagine making love with Jillian. And I think she might enjoy that too. But I just don’t know how that would work, since I had promised Dad I would not try to fuck his ass. It’s a very strange and incredibly kinky dilemma. I never said my family was normal.

Look, I understand intellectually that Jillian is my Dad. But seeing her, touching her, and kissing her doesn’t feel like my Dad at all. I have to admit. I’m feeling more than a little infatuated with my father’s secondary personality! I had only met Jillian the night before. But I think I have a crush on her. Blue says that Jillian thinks I’m really cute and sexy too. This was definitely going to be a serious problem.

My father was expressionless. “So now you know,” is all he said.

“Know what, Dad?”

“You and your mother know that I’m a freak.” He said it like it was just a cold fact.

“It’s strange. Sure. You’ve just found a unique way to deal with life, Dad. That’s all.” I was trying to reassure him, and cheer him up. “Jillian is a part of you. And Mom and I love ALL of you. Get it? You’re not a freak, Dad. At least, you’re no more freaky than me or Mom.”

“Don’t talk that way about your mother, Bobby,” Dad said, not quite sternly, but with the most life than I had seen Him display that morning. “You’re mother is perfect!”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that, Dad.”

We sat in silence for a long while.

Finally, I said, “I like Jillian.”

“You do?”

“She’s family. I love her. But maybe not as much as Mom loves her. But Jillian’s very kind and sweet. And, I just want to get to know her and kind of take care of her.” I got tired of staring at my Dad’s coffee and toast. I got up to get something for myself.

My Dad got up and followed me. “What do you mean, Marjorie is in love with Jillian now?”

I got out a bagel and put it in the toaster. “What’s not to love! Jillian is sweet and funny. Jillian loves you, Dad. Plus, she’s very pretty. I think she’s pretty sexy. Mom thinks she’s hot.”

Dad scowled at me. “Did you make her do things?”

“Mom told me not to try and dominate Jillian. And later Mom said I had acted like a perfect gentleman. So, no.” My bagel popped up from the toaster. And I put a pod in the coffeemaker

“Uh, good.”

“But Jillian and I have plans to go out sometime.”

“Like, on a date?” My Dad seemed totally baffled by the concept.

“Yeah, Dad. I know you’re busy with work and stuff. But, maybe we can look at your calendar. It doesn’t need to be anything major. Maybe dinner and a movie. Or she might like to go out for a bike ride and a picnic. We could see each other in the afternoon.”

My Dad looked confused and hurt. “You really like her? Like, like-her like her? Like a girlfriend?”

I buttered my bagel, put cream in my coffee and carried my stuff back into the dining room. “Dad, I take Mom out on Dates, usually once or twice a week. I think Jillian should get to have fun too.”

“You’re crazy, Bobby. That couldn’t work!”

I took a bite of my bagel and shrugged. “We’ll see. We need to get Jillian a better set of tits and a much better wig. She hates her wig and tits. Do you know that? Mom and Jillian were giggling about getting matching lingerie. Can you imagine seeing them together like that? That would be so great. So hot.” I looked at my Dad, realizing what I had said. “I guess you can’t see that. Well, I could take a picture and show you later.”

“You’re serious! You can’t be serious!” Dad was very angry now.

My mother came downstairs, naked. Her hair was messy, literally fucked-up. There were bags under her eyes, and she was walking with a bit of a tired, flat footed, zombie-shuffle. “Are you two arguing?” She asked. She stretched her hands over her head, arched her back and then casually flattened her hair down with her fingers. He hands trailed down her body. She briefly rubbed her breasts, as she ran her hands down. It didn’t look like she was overtly trying to call attention to her perfect breasts, the curve of her waist, or the swell of her hips. It was just a morning stretch. But, it was even sexier for being so casual.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir