Foster Davis - The seduction of mommy

It was just before her son and daughter arrived home from high school that Arlene found the brown legal-size envelope. It had been tucked between two seldom read volumes on the top shelf of the bookcase. If she hadn't accidentally jarred one of the books loose while dusting, the envelope would not have been exposed. Now she examined it with trembling fingers. Even before she opened the unsealed flap, she knew what was inside. Money. And she knew it was stolen. Money stolen from her husband's office. It wasn't the first such envelope she had happened upon. There had been two others, one containing two-hundred dollars in twenties, another holding two fifty-dollar bills. Now she stared at this third envelope, fearful of what its contents might be, remembering how strange Hal's voice had sounded when he tried to relate matter-of-factly that money was missing from the office. Even then, Arlene had suspected. A dark, terrible hunch was followed two days later by the first envelope – the first evidence? She wanted to ask him why, but she couldn't. She could no more speak to her staunchly proper husband about his crime than she could tell him about her masturbation. She nervously squeezed the envelope open and counted five-hundred dollars worth of tens and twenties. She returned the cash to its secret place, arranging the books so that the bulging envelope could not be noticed.

Ten minutes later, Arlene was still shaking. She was in the kitchen staring out the window as she sat at the table. She gazed out into the yard, but she saw nothing, not even Barbara, the wife next door, who was uprooting tiny spring weeds from her still brownish lawn while her ass jutted up in the air, her skirt rising high to reveal her diaphanous panties. At any other time Arlene would have felt irritation at the sight of the tasteless young neighbor, but now she thought only of herself and her situation. She felt guilt – guilt because day after day her lust was driving her to longer and longer episodes of self-indulgence, guilt because the man she loved, the righteous, self-assured, moral man she had married, had for some unknown reason stolen money from his employer. Her hands trembled and she had to grip the edges of the table to still them.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Judy came prancing happily into the kitchen followed by her brother Bill.

Judy's first words were, "What's wrong, Mom? You look nervous."

Fifteen-year-old Bill (who had never been as perceptive as his sixteen-year-old sister) seemed unaware of his mother's emotional state. He uttered a short "Hi," and went to the refrigerator to pour a glass of lemonade.

"Nothing," Arlene said in response to her daughter's question. "Nothing's wrong, Judy. How was your day?" She forced herself to smile and to look directly at the girl.

Her eyes passed from daughter to son and back to daughter. The sight of her children was just what she needed to calm her feeling of depression. She had a beautiful daughter with long blonde hair the same shade as her own. A daughter who was intelligent and out-going and eager to explore the life that lay ahead, the way Arlene had been seventeen years ago. Arlene's eyes lingered momentarily on the hem of her daughter's skirt. She frowned, thinking that the skirt exposed too much, that it was far too sexy, but she decided to say nothing. She had been quarreling with her children too often, she reasoned. Watching her son gulp down the glass of lemonade, she felt pride in his physique. He was budding into a strong, impressive man, and even though she disliked the way he dressed and the length of his hair, she was momentarily proud of his good looks. No matter what else might happen to threaten her marriage, she still had her children to believe in.

Arlene avoided Hal's eyes all through dinner. She found it impossible to accept the fact that despite his tireless sermonizing about honesty winning out in the long run, he was himself a thief. What if Bill or Judy found out? It seemed to Arlene that his was the ultimate of hypocrisy. If only she knew what had caused him to steal the money. But she would never know unless she asked him… and she could never do that.

At midnight, with Bill and Judy sleeping in their respective rooms, Hal had got up suddenly from the sofa beside Arlene. He had virtually marched to the TV set and flicked off the Tonight Show.

"I want to go to bed!" he announced in his deep, even voice, a voice in harmony with his husky, virile build.

"All right, darling. You go ahead. I'll be there in a little while," she said.

He stood glaring down at her, weaving slightly because he'd been drinking vodka all evening, and she detected a savagery in his eyes totally unlike him.

"I want you to come with me, Arlene. I want us to make love like normal married people! Or are you going to put me off again?"

She didn't think she'd been putting him off. In fact, she felt he was the one who had been neglecting her. Several nights she'd been desperate for a good fuck, and he'd been too tired to oblige her. It was true that she wasn't in the mood for it at the moment, but she could tell by his fierce expression that argument would do no good.

In the bedroom they stood at opposite sides of the room and stripped. He came over to her then, and yanked her against him. Without even kissing her, he shoved her away from him so that she landed on the bed. He was upon her instantly, staring into her fearful eyes as he forced her legs apart and drove the head of his large erection against the unprepared fringes of her vagina.

"No!" she whispered.

But he pushed harder. She was hardly aroused at all, and the forceful jabbing of Hal's throbbing cock burned against her vulva. He pulled her thighs more widely apart, gripping the fleshy back portions as he shoved himself at her.

"Hal, no, not yet!" she whimpered, but already the head of his organ was inside the pained lips of her cunt. Tears filled her eyes; under the savage assault she felt defenseless; she tried not to sob, but she couldn't help it. Hal had never treated her this way.

"Open up, bitch! Fuck up at me!" he shouted.

"Shh! Please don't shout, they'll hear us!" she wept. "Please stop, it hurts!"

He paid no attention to her. He shoved his erection all the way in. Arlene clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. The almost-dry walls of her vagina rebelled against the rude intrusion, sending waves of agony to her confused brain.

She knew that he was drunk, and she knew why he was acting so cruelly. The stolen money, the terrible psychological strain. He was tormented and somehow this savage act… this virtual rape… was medicine for his inner wounds.

Even after the pain subsided, she felt little pleasure. But she spread her legs wide and lunged beneath him, bucking and churning like a mad whore. He was her husband and she loved him and this was what he needed. Three minutes after penetration he spewed his full load of searing sperm into her cunt. She was just beginning to feel the wild sexual urges start within her, but it was too late to reach an orgasm.

After another two minutes of gasping recuperation, he rolled over and immediately slept. Arlene remained awake for another hour trying not to cry, trying to understand.

The next night was Saturday. At seven Hal left for his bowling league. A half hour later, Judy came into the living room and sprawled out on the couch to wait for her boy friend. They were going to the movies.

Arlene was walking from the den to the kitchen when she spied her daughter on the sofa and stopped short.

"You're not going to wear that?" she admonished, scanning Judy's skin-tight stretch slacks and abbreviated blouse that left her exposed between her midriff and the top of her low-slung pants. Her blonde hair hung straight, cascading across her shoulders, not a hint of a curl anywhere.