The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He heard a voice calling him...calling him from somewhere...urging him awake...

“Frank...Frank...are you awake?”

The soft voice of his mother, Martha, brought Frank from the land of Nod. He opened his eyes. His mother, dressed in a lavender silk dressing gown, was bending over him.

“I am now, Mother,” he replied, humorously.

His mother smiled at him.

“I’m sorry to awaken you, sleepy-head,” she teased him, gently. “But it’s already past nine o’clock in the morning. Breakfast is still warm, but it won’t be much longer.”

“Nine o’clock...that late?” He glanced at his alarm clock on his bedside table. It read quarter-past the hour.

“Yes, indeed.”

“Well, then, Mother, I’d better get up.” He began to throw off his bedcoveres, then remembered he was nude beneath the sheets. he hadn’t bothered to put his pajamas back on after Lori had left last night...

“See that you do. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With a sweet smile, his mother turned toward the door. Then she stopped and looked at him, her eyes loving and moist. “It’s wonderful to have my big boy back in his bedroom again,” she said, softly. “I’ve missed you so much, honey boy. I hope we’ll have some time together soon, son...just the two of us.”

For a moment, Frank looked at his middle-aged mother, her mature dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty, her voluptous figure, the way her heavy bosom strained at the confines of her silk dressing gown.

“We will, Mother,” he told her. “We will...”

Showered, shaved, and now properly attired in his pajamas, bathrobe, and Romeo bedroom slippers, Frank was just about to take a bite of taost at the dining room table when his mother asked him, “What were you up to last night, honey?”

The toast stopped, halfway from his mouth. “Up to, Mother?”

“Yes, I saw your light on. You must have been up half the night!”

Frank searched his mother’s black eyes. They were guileless. She sat opposite him at the dining room table, with a slightly quizzical expression, stirring her coffee.

“Did anything happen?” he queried, causally.

“Oh, I couldn’t remember anything about last night!” His mother sighed. “Besides, I didn’t want to keep you up with all her questions when you needed sleep.”

Frank bit into his toast.

His mother shook her head. “By the way, Frank...I can’t help but wonder about the presents you mentioned. What did you get your Grandmother, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Frank stared directly at his mother. “I broight her a selection of French lingerie, Mother. Lingerie...and stockings.”

He saw his mother’s face blush slightly. “My goodness, Frank. Such a lovely, intimate gift! Real French lingerie!”

“Yes,” Frank returned, still staring directly into his mother’s lovely, mature face, framed by her jet black hair that was loose, free of the bun she usually wore it in. “I got her some lace and satin brassiers, panties, garter belts, and nylon stockings, as well as a few pairs of high heels.”

The very mention of womens’ intimate undergarments caused his mother to blush again. “Oh, that was a sweet thing to do, Frank,” she declared. “And so thoughtful. I think I’m jealous!”

“You needn’t be,” he told her. “I bought you some French lingerie also. And some stockings and high heels.”

“Frank! You didn’t!” His mother was genuinely pleased.

“I did. I put one of the boxes on your bed as I came down,” he said. “It’s a lingerie and stocking set with high heeled pumps. Perhaps you could try the set on today. Then I could see if I guessed the size correctly.”

His mother beamed. “Why that’s a lovely idea! I could wear your present today while we go shopping. I know you need some cooler clothes now that you’re in a warmer climate. That would be prefect, honey.”

“That’s fine with me, Mother,” Frank assured her.

Martha rose.

“You go ahead and finish your breakfast. Our new maid, Greta—you’ll love her and she’s from Germany so she’s just dying to meet and talk with you—will clean up later. I’ll go upstairs and shower and put on those lovely things my sweet son bought me.”

Her eyes glowed with love and affection for her son. Impulsively, she walked around the table and patted his cheek, leaning over him. “Did any mother have a more wonderful son?”

“Now, Mother,” Frank smiled. His eyes rivited on the massive swell of his mother’s magnificent bosom, clearly outlined in the diaphaneous silk robe that clung to her ripely curved form.

“You honey,” she cooed. “My honey boy.” Her soft, warm hand gently caressed his face. The front of her robe had parted and Frank could see the snowy hills of his mother’s bountiful bosom. He could also see the deep, dark valley between her breasts.

“By the way,” he heard his mother murmer. “You Grandmother Agatha called. She wants you to see her.”

Frank felt his heart begin to pound in his chest, not only by the close-up view of his mother’s bosom but also at the mention of his elderly grandmother. He thought of his plans for his own, gray-haired, sixty-year-old paternal grandmother. His heart pounded even harder.

“Frank...?”

He quickly caught himself. “Yes. Mother?”

“I was just telling you that your grandmother would like you to visit her tomorrow. Around tenish, she said.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Frank said. He supressed a tremor of anticipation. “That’s just fine...”

“Good. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you want me.”

Frank watched his mature mother depart the dining room. He glanced up at the wall clock.

First a shower, his mother had said.

He’d wait fifteen minutes...

Frank watched his mature mother’s shapely hands adjust her sheer nylon stockings...

Fifteen minutes later, Frank was standing outside his mother’s bedroom door. His ear was at the door. He had timed it perfectly.

First, he had heard the rustle of his present being opened. Then the cry of delight from his mother. Next, there had been his mother’s contented, soft humming, and the whispers of delicate undergarments being put on.

Frank’s heart beat with excitement and anticipation in his chest. This was the moment. He gently turned the door knob. His mother had not locked her bedroom door. Slowly, slowly, he eased it open, silently.

He saw his mother standing before the huge, floor-length mirror beside her dressing table, where his gaily wrapped parcel lay, opened. She was wearing the lingerie set he had procured for her.

At the moment, she was bent over, adjusting the tension of one of her garter belt suspenders that pulled at the wide, welted top of one of the fully fashioned seamed nyloned stockings that sheathed her long, lovely legs.

Frank watched his mature mother’s shapely hands adjust her sheer nylon stockings. She released the garter belt suspender and now gently tugged at the taut, filmy tops of each of her nylon stockings, pulling the exquisitely sheer, seamed hose glass smooth over her lusciously curved legs.

Those stockings were lustrous, and of a dark, smoke-gray tint. The seamed, fully fashioned nylon stockings glowed on his mother’s legs. Frank’s phallus began to twitch hotly beneath his bathrobe.

In addition to the stockings, his mother wore the garter belt, a thin, whispy garment constructed of ruby red lace, as well as a pair of skimpy, bikini-cut panties and a low-cut brassier, also of the same ruby red lace. Finally, his mother’s stockinged feet were shod in gleaming black patent pumps with stilleto high heels.

Standing before the mirror, wearing only the ruby red lace brassier, panties, garter belt and seamed, smokey gray tinted stockings and black stilleto pumps, his middle-aged mother was a fetish wet dream come true...

Frank stared at his mother’s fulsome breasts in the red lace brassier. The brassier was 44D-sized, yet the cups barely contained those massive, matronly melons. For as long as he could remember, his mother’s huge breats had captivated him.

Frank noted that his mother had worn the panties outside her garter belt. He was gratified. It would make everything go so much smoother...

He now walked boldy into his mother’s bedroom. He walked directly behind his mother, facing the floor-length mirror.

His mother straightened up from adjusting her stockings. Her heavy, melony breasts bobbed in the huge lace cups of her brassier as she did. Her nylon stocking seams were now superbly straight from her efforts.

Now, she straightened, She looked in the mirror. Her face mirrored her shock as she spied her own son standing behind her.

“Frank!” she exclaimed, her lined, heavily made-up face reddening beneath her face powder and rouge. “What on earth—?”

“Don’t turn around, Mother,” Frank commanded her.

“What—what do you mean—you can’t come in here—see me like this—” His middle-aged mother’s form in the lace lingerie was quivering. “Frank—!”

“Look into the mirror, Mother,” he ordered her, his voice quiet, but firm.

“What—?”

“Look into the mirror,” Frank ordered his mother again, his voice compelling.

“What are you-doing here—”

“Look in the mirror, Mother...look...”

Slowly, almost involuntarily, his mother’s eyes turned back to the mirror. She saw her son in the mirror behind her. He was staring at her with a strange intensity.

“Look into my eyes,” he commanded his mother.

“Frank—what do you—”

“Look into my eyes,” he commanded her again. “Look through the mirror, Mother. Look into my eyes.”

His mother’s eyes, staring in the mirror, now met her son’s eyes. Mother and son’s eyes locked. She gasped. Frank’s eyes were glaring with intensity.

Martha trembled as she stared into her son’s compelling, enthralling eyes. “Frank...what are you...” Her voice trailed off.

“Look deep into my eyes, Mother,” Frank commanded. “Look ....yes, look...look...look deeper...deeper...you cannot move, Mother...you cannot speak...all you can do is look into my eyes...”

Martha’s eyes were now transfixed by her son’s powerful stare. She stood, silent, her form still in the lingerie, stockings, and pumps. She seemed frozen to the spot.

“Frank...” her voice quavered. “Your...your eyes...”

“Look into my eyes, Mother...”

“I...I...”

“Look into my eyes...look into my eyes...”

Now, slowly, but inevitably, his mother’s eyes locked into her son’s eyes through the mirror. Her eyes widened as they rivited onto his.

“Now, Mother...look even deeper into my eyes...deeper...deeper...you can only see my eyes, Mother...you can only hear my voice...”

His middle-aged mother’s eyes were becoming glazed as they continued staring into her son’s eyes through the mirror.

Frank’s pulses raced. His mother was slipping into hypnosis.

“You can only see my eyes...you can only hear my voice...you are now floating...you are floating, Mother...you feel your will slipping away...you cannot resist me, Mother...you will obey me...obey me...tell me you will obey me...”

“Close your eyes, Mother,” Frank commanded. “Close your eyes...and sleep...sleep...”

His mother’s red lipsticked lips parted in her expressionless face. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. “I will...obey you...”

“Now you are getting sleepy...so very sleepy...you are floating deeper into the cloud...it’s so soft...so warm...you want to sleep...your eyelids are so heavy...so heavy...you cannot keep your eyelids open...”

Now his mature mother’s green-eyeshadowed eyelids were drooping over her glazed eyes.

“Close your eyes, Mother,” Frank commanded. “Close your eyes...and sleep...sleep...I command you...sleep...”

Slowly, his mother’s eyelids closed over her eyes.

“You will go into a deep sleep, " Frank commanded, his pulses racing with triumph at the masterful way he had hypnotized his middle-aged mother. “A deep, deep sleep.”

His mother stood before the mirror, motionless, eyes closed, completely immersed in deep, hypnotic sleep.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” Frank said to his hypnotized mother now.

“Yes...” she replied, eyes closd, her voice drowsy.

“Who am I?”

“You...you’re my son...my son, Frank...”

“And you love your son...don’t you, Mother...?”

“Yes...I love you...very much...”

“And you will do anything to please me...anything...You cannot resist me. You must obey me completely. Do you understand?”

“Yes...I understand...”

“Open your eyes, Mother.”

Slowly, Martha’s eyes opened. She stared, her eyes glazed, at her son through the mirror.

“Now, Mother,” Frank said, untying the belt of his bathrobe, “you will submit to me...completely...totally...”

“Yes...son...”

He shrugged off the bathrobe. He now wore only his pajamas.

He walked up behind his mesmerized mother, where she stood in front of the mirror...

“You like wearing the sexy lingerie and stockings for me, don’t you, Mother?” Frank said into one of her shell-like ears a few minutes later.

“Yes, son...if it pleases you...” she murmered back, her eyes still closed, deeply hypnotized.

They both stood in front of the full-lenght mirror now. Frank was behind his voluptuous mother who wore only the red lace lingerie, seamed stockings, and black pumps. He was close behind his mother...very close. Now, he gently pressed against his mother, his front against her back. He sighed at the feeling of her soft warmth against him.

His mother sighed, too, and leaned back aginst her son. Her head rested on one of his shoulders. His nostrils drank in the scent of her perfume.

“Your legs in sheer nylon stockings pleases me,” he said. “Your body in lingerie pleases me...Mother...”

His middle-aged mother’s big round bottom in the red lace panties pressed against Frank’s loins. His cock pole, erect now in his pajama bottoms, throbbed against his mother’s soft, warm bottom globes.

“I’m glad...it pleases you...son...”

“It’s always pleased me...even when I was little...I loved looking at your legs in sheer nylon stockings...catching peeks of you in your lingerie...I used to sneak in your bedroom sometimes and hide, so that I could watch you undress, Mother...”

“Did you...?”

“Yes...You used to give me such erections, Mother...such et dreams, Mother. I used to secretly watch you dress and undress...I watched you put on your sexy underthings and slip on your stockings...you have such lovely legs for sheer stockings...Mother...”

His middle-aged mother only moaned in reply, deeply aroused by her son’s fondling of her mature breasts through her brassier. She leaned fully back against her son, now. Her lace-pantied bottom pressed more firmly, more warmly, against his throbbing cock pole. Her big breasts were firm and sex-swollen now in the cups of her lace brassier, and swelling even more from her son’s strong, stroking hands. Now, she whispered, “Are you going to...make love to me...son...?”

“Yes...Mother...”

Frank deftly unhooked his mother’s back brassier strap. He slipped the suporting straps down his mother’s shoulders. The ruby red lace brassier floated to the carpet.

Now, Franks hands were full of his mother’s huge, soft breasts. Those motherly milkbags actually overfilled even his large hands...they were massive mounds, supremely soft and warm. As he hefted his mother’s breasts in his hands, she moaned deeply. His cockpole, tenting out his pajama bottoms, throbbed and throbbed against her bottom globes in the lace panties.

His mother moaned and moaned as her son’s hands kneaded and squeezed her sex-swollen breasts. Frank could feel his mother’s big titties still swelling and firming in his hands. He looked at his mother’s breasts in the mirror. They were the size of jumbo grapefurit apiece, but a hundred times as soft. Her auerole were the size of half dollars. Her nipples were stiff with arousal.

Frank let his right hand fall from one of his mother’s breasts. His hand reached down low...gliding over her naked tummy, to the lace bandeau of her garter belt...his hand stroked the exquisite lace of the garter belt...it was the finest Belgian lace...his hand now slipped lower...his fingers touched the front of his mother’s lace panties. His mother’s panties were moist...moist from the flow of love liquid from n her bedroom. It was one of those brand-new “Princess Phones,” in a bone-white color. Again, for the third time, the elderly woman dialed the number to reach her daughter-in-law’s, Martha’s, home.

She held the receiver to one ear, unclipping her earring as she did. She listened. There was the again the constant burr...burr...burr of the busy signal.

Goodness! Agatha put the receiver back in its cradle. Whoever was on the phone at her daughter-in-law’s was certainly having a long conversation. Agatha would have suspected one of Martha’s friends of the deed—the middle-aged woman was heavily involved with civic activity and campus affairs—but Martha, having welcomed her son home, was certainly not spending time chatting with her friends.

Perhaps it was Martha chatting with one of the officers of their church’s women’s group. There was the bazaar coming up...

Or, it could even been her grandson, Frank...

Indeed, it was because of Frank she was calling. Agatha wanted to ensure Frank had gotten her message about visiting her tomorrow. The elderly woman felt a strange eagerness to see her grandson...and eagerness that compelled her to leave nothing to chance. Nothing. Perhaps Frank or Martha were off the telephone now...

Agatha picked up the receiver and dialed again.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom of Martha Etheridge, the telephone receiver lay off its hook. The bedroom door was locked as well.

His hands held his mother firmly as he impaled her deep, succoring pussy with his stiff, swollen cock ...

The electronic tones issuing from the receiver to announce that the telephone was off the hook were loud in the quiet, darkened bedroom.

The two occupants on the bed neither heard nor cared about the sound.

On the bed, at the moment Agatha Etheridge was redialing her telephone, her daughter-in-law, Martha, was spreading her legs in the seamed nylon stockings wider apart, opening herself so that her son could thrust his stiff cock pole even deeper into her pussy.

Both mother and son moaned, soulfully, as his naked hips pushed forward, thrusting his rigid pole inch by inch into her palpating pussy slit.

Mother and son lay side by side on her bed now, her back to his front. One of Frank’s hands gripped one of her garter belted hips, while the other hand grasped one of her massive breasts. His hands held his mother firmly as he impaled her deep, succoring pussy with his stiff, swollen cock.

Slowly, steadily, Frank thrust himself in and out of his middle-aged mother’s hot pussy, fucking her with hard, firm strokes.

After carrying his mother to her bed, Frank had been burning with fervid, incestuous lust. He had commanded his mesmerized mother to turn on her side. Then he had all but tore his pajama bottoms off, kicking off his bedroom slippers. He unbuttoned his pajama tops—and then the sight of his hypnotized mother languidly spreading her nylon stockinged thighs apart, exposing her pussy to him, inflamed him. He got into bed beside his mother, grasped her tightly and, without warning, thrust into her.

“Ooooohhhh—oooohhhhhhhh—son—oooohhhhh—” his mother had moaned, eyes closed. “Son—oooohhhhh—my darling—darling—ooooooooohhh—”

“Take me, Mother,” he had rasped to her, thrusting his stiff shaft deeper and deeper into her warm, slippery pussy tunnel. “Take me—”

“Oooohhhh—you’re so big, son—” his mother had groaned. “So big...so big...I don’t know...if I can...take you...”

Now he was lancing into his middle-aged mother’s steamy pussy with firm, deep, hard strokes...

“You will, Mother,” he groaned, feeling his mother’s satiny pussy sheath grip his throbbing cock deep inside her like a loving glove. “You will take me—all of me—”

Inch by inch, he had thrust himself into his mother. Finally, with a shout of triumph, he had buried himself balls deep into her. Then, suddenly, his mother had begun to shake, uncontrollably. He felt her velvety pussy tunnel spasm around his pole.

Then, with a shuddering groan, his mother had orgasmed. Frank had groaned too as he felt his mother’s hot, love liquid flow around his shaft deep in her.

Now he was lancing into his middle-aged mother’s steamy pussy with firm, deep, hard strokes, thrusting himself balls deep each time, achieving the deepest penetration. His steel-stiff cock pole glistened with his mother’s love liquid.

“You’ve got a hot pussy, Mother,” he groaned to his mother, as he speared into her. “Uhhhh—uuuhhhhhhhhhh—what a hot pussy—Mother—”

As he fucked his mother, Frank’s eyes locked on the sight of her shapely, nylon stockinged legs spread on the mattress before him. His mother’s long, lushly curved legs glimmered darkly in the ultra-sheer, smokey-gray tinted stockings. He could see both the sexy seams of her fully fashioned stockings running up the back of her nyloned legs. Her stockinged feet arched in the glittering black stilleto-heeled pumps rendered her sheer stockinged legs even more alluring.

Frank felt the madness engulf him again, His head swam with fetish fever at the sight of his mother’s legs in the seamed nylon stockings while his cock throbbed fervidly as it worked deeply into his mother’s steamy, seething pussy sheath.

It was a hot, horny incestuous fetish fuck between mother and son...a fuck that couldn’t last long...

Gasping, groaning, Frank forced his now bloated, pounding cock pole into his hypnotized mother’s squirming, blazing pussy for a dozen more deep, body-killing strokes—then his cock pole lurched, electrically, foer the final time—the searing spasms shook his body as the burning seminal fluid spilled and spilled, convulsively from his flaring cockhead deep in his mother’s womb—the womb he had come from—the thought undid him and he collapsed atop his mother’s heaving body—

“Uuuuuhhhhh—uuuuhhhhhhhh—” he groaned, his face buried in his mother hair, as his cock jolted and jolted in her convulsing pussy. “Mother—I’m cumming—Ohhhh—I’m cumming—in—you—uuuhhhhhhhh—”

“OOooooooOOooohhhhhhh—” his mother groaned in reply. “My darling boy—oooohhhhhhhhhhh—my wonderful one—fill me—fill me—honey boy—oooohhhhhh—”

The bodies of mother and son thrashed on her bed as they succumbed to the fiery esctacy of their first incestuous cum together...

What in the world is going on? Agatha Etheridge wondered, frustrated, as she hung up her phone for the seventh time. The line was still busy! Who could Martha—or Frank—be talking to?

Well, she was already late for her meeting. She’d have to leave and call back in the evening. She walked to her dressing table and picked up her white afternoon formal gloves.

Drawing on the gloves, the gray-haired matron walked from her bedroom...then she returned to the phone...She’d try just once more...

At his grandmother picked up the telephone receiver, in his mother’s bedroom, Frank was again heading toward horny heaven...as was his hypnotized, compliant middle-aged mother...

“Ohhhhhhhh—Frank—Frank—” Martha was groaning to her son. “You’re going see deep into me—ooooooohhhhhh—so-o-o-o-o deeeeep—”

“Do you like it...this way...Mother?” Frank moaned back to her.

“I love it—oooooohhhhh—honey—”

Frank, covered with sweat, was laying on his back on his mother’s rumpled bed. His mother was straddling him, her back to his front. Frank’s hand gripped his mother’s hips in the red lace garter belt, firmly, guiding her up and down.

Slowly, the busty, middle-aged woman rose and fell, riding her son’s stiff cock pole, moaning as it reamed her slick, hot pussy.

“Oooooohh, Frank,” Martha breathed huskily, as she took his throbbing pole into her palpitating love tunnel. “You’re going such a deep way into me...”

“Am I...deep enough...?” Frank moaned back, upheaving his naked hips, upthrusting his stiff, swollen pole to the root into his mother.

“Ooooooooohhhhhh...are you deep...”

Frank strained mightily and upheaved his hips from the mattress even faster, upthrusting his rigid prick even harder into his mother’s hot, hot hole.

“OOOoooohh—ooooohhhhhhhh—” his middle-aged mother groaned, helplessly, quaking from her son’s forceful fucking.

For their second tryst, Frank had commanded his hypnotized mother to climb on top, so she could take a long, hard ride on his cock. It was a nice, hot, and horny way to fuck his voluptuous, middle-aged mother.

Frank had commanded his hypnotized mother to climb on top, so she could take a long, hard ride on his cock...

Sweating and groaning, Frank continued thrusting his cock up into his mother’s sopping pussy, lifting his hips and butt off the mattress to penetrate her to the very depths of her maternal womb.

Above him, his mother moaned and moaned as he lunged up into her, deep, deep moans. His immensely erect cock pole was actually stretching his middle-aged mother’s love tunnel...the same love tunnel that he had come from. The thought made his cock throb, electrically, as it plunged into his mother’s bubbling pussy slit.

His hands slid down to her thighs. Now, his hands stroked her firm maternal thighs sheathed in the taut welted tops of her fully fashioned nylon stockings. His palms tingedly delciously from stroking his mother’s smooth nyloned thighs as his cock plowed up into her steamy pussy.

“Your legs are fabulous...in these stockings...” Frank told his mother, his hands stroking the slick, smooth expanse of his mother’s nylon stockinged thighs. “You will always wear sheer stockings for me...Mother...”

“Yes...son...” Martha murmered, and then moaned as her son’s stiff pole thrust up into her again. “Ooooooooooohhhh-I’ll always wear sheer stockings for you...my honey...honey boy...”

Across town, Agatha was peering at a large book on the table beside the telephone. It was the telephone directory.

A lined hand began to reach for it, then hesitated.

The elderly woman frowned.

Should she?

Moaning deeply, the busty, middle-aged mother rode her young son’s stiff, swollen prick...

It was silly, of course, but she may have gotten the number wrong...of course, she’d dialed it many times. But she wasn;t getting any younger and she could have misdialed the telephone. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to check...

The elderly matron carefully noted the number for his daughter-in-law’s residence. Then she began to dial...

“Do you like it...this way...too...Mother...?” Frank groaned now, in a hot, swirling fog, to his mother.

“God-yes-Frank-you honey boy-ooooohhhh”

The middle-aged woman wearing only garter belt, nylons, and high heels still straddled her son’s nearly nude boy on her bed. Only now, at his command, she was facing him. Once again, Martha’s fleshy hips in the black lace garter belt rose and fell, slowly, rhymatically, as she took her son’s stiff, throbbing cock in and out of her steamy maternal pussy.

Moaning deeply, the busty, middle-aged mother rode her young son’s stiff, swollen prick, taking his formidable organ deep, body-killingly deep, into her. Beneath her, Frank groaned, suffused in horny heat, as he uplifted his naked hips, those hips sliding silkily against his mother’s smoothly stockinged thighs, upthusting his throbbing prick forcefully, fantastically, into her deep, assuaging tunnel of love.

Deep...he was going so deep...so deep...into his beautiful mother’s hot, luscious pussy...God...so deep into her...his stiff cock pole throbbed, hotly, as it worked deeper and deeper into his mother’s soft, warm, enfolding pussy tunnel...her loving, lubricious depths enfolded his swollen organ...stroking his pulsating pole...up and down his mother’s form went above him, taking him, all of him, into her...he upheaved his naked hips to thrust himself even deeper into that hot honey hole...as he did his naked hips rubbed silkily against her encasing thighs so smooth in those sheer stockings...it was a hot ride...a hot, horny ride...with mother...his swollen pole pulsated burningly deep inside her at the sensation of his naked hips rubbing aaginst those sheer nylon stockinged maternal thighs...sheer stockings...hot, deep pussy...a fantastic fetish fuck...with his own middle-aged mother...

He heard his mother’s soft, deep moans as he lanced up into her...incredibly, he was going into her deeper still...his inflamed organ surged inside her steamy, creamy depths...his eyes were open now...through a hot haze, he watched his mother’s wide hips strapped in the red lace garter belt rise and fall...the garter belt’s suspenders pulling and pulling at her taut stocking tops as she rode him...he could see his immensely stiff and swollen cock pole thrust up and up into her furry pussy...his pole glistening with her warm, lubricating love liquid...her pink pussy lips fluttering around his thrusting shaft...drawing him in...into her love tunnel...the love tunnel...from whence he had come...

“Ooooooooohhhh...oooooooohhhhhhh...honey...honey boy...you go so deep...so deep into me...oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....”

For a long, slow time, the middle-aged woman wearing only the red lace garter belt, seamed nylon stockings, and black stilleto pumps rode her young son’s throbbing cock...a hot, horny time...

At the other end of town, Agatha Etheridge listened to the steady beeping eminating from the telephone receiver she held next to her ear. This time, she had dialed the number correctly, without a doubt. And it was still busy...

Across town, the telephone still lay off its hook in Martha’s Etheridge’s bedroom. On her spacious bed, she and her son were deeply engrossed in their third loving tryst.

The middle-aged woman lay on her back on the bed. She still wore the fetish-arousing red lace garter belt, seamed, smokey-gray tinted nylon stockings, and black stilleto-heeled pumps.

Frank, now stark naked, was mounted on top of his mother’s supine form.

He was gripping his mother’s flaring, flesh-padded hips tightly, just below the lace bandeau of her garter belt. At the same time, his mother’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

And his muscular, naked hips and buttocks were pistoning steadily, powerfully between his mother’s shapely legs sheathed in the seamed nylon stockings. The forceful pelvic plunges drove his rigid love tool balls deep into his mother’s middle-aged pussy. Frank’s love tool glistened from his mother’s depths. It was still smeared from his mother’s slow, loving fellatio.

“Oooooohhhh—ooooohhhhhhh—honey boy—” his mother groaned beneath his pounding body now. “Ooohh-I love you-on top of me-my darling-my honey—”

Frank groaned in reply. His naked hips and bottom pumped and pumped like a oil derrick between his mother’s glossy, seamed stockinged legs. His cock pole, as rigid as any steel bar, stabbed and stabbed into his mother’s drooling pussy slit.

His middle-aged mother, captivated by the hypnotic trance her son held her under, and enthralled by his masterful, magnificent fucking of her hot, sex-hungry pussy, took his deepest thrusts now and asked for more and more.

“Oooohh—son—my honey—honey boy—:” she groaned, quivering beneath his pounding body that rammed his immense organ stunningly deep into her. “Yes—ooohhh—yes—honey boy—go deep—oooohhhhhhh—go deep in me—”

And her son went deep into his mother, ramming his love spear into her quaking depths. His naked, sweaty hips smacked wetly against his mother’s sweaty, garter belted hips. His body pounded and pounded on her body, his naked chest almost mashing her massive breasts with the force of his movements. His swinging ball sac beat a tatoo against his mother’s inner thighs as he thrust and thrust into her.

He was fucking his middle-aged mother with powerful, breathtaking thrusts, plunging himself into the deepest depths into her hot maternal pussy.

With a groan, his mother tried to meet her son’s thrusts, upheaving herself to meet his downward plunges, thrust for body-killing thrust. Her shapely legs tensed beneath the film of her sheer nylon stockings as she upheaved, her stockinged feet in the black pumps sinking in the mattress. The middle-aged mother was rotating her hips in

the lace garter belt, moving with her son with the abandon of a young call girl.

He was fucking his middle-aged mother with powerful, breathtaking thrusts, plunging himself into the deepest depths of her hot maternal pussy...

“Take my cock, Mother,” Frank commanded, hoarsely. “Take my cock into your hot pussy—just like you took Father’s cock—”

Frank was suffused with fucking frenzy. His mother’s coital movements only spurred him to hard, faster thrusts into her. Her squeezing, stroking pussy sheath made his cock stiffen to horny hugeness. His naked hips and bottom pistoned rapidly between his mother’s nylon stockinged legs, increasing the fucking pace terrifically.

“I’m fucking your hot pussy, Mother,” he groaned to her, half out of his head. “Your hot, hot pussy—uuuuhhhhhhh—hot pussy—”

His brain was suffused with a hot haze as he fucked his mother so forcefully. It was fantastic fetish fulfillment to be fucking his busty, beautiful mother, who wore the fetish-arousing garter belt, seamed stockings, and high heeled pumps. In his fogged mind, he pictured his mother, bent over, straightening her stocking seams...her hands pulling at those welted stocking tops that tautly encased her heavy, maternal thighs...his hands full of his mother’s massive, melony breasts...

And, all the while, with every thrust into his mother’s deep pussy, his naked hips rubbed tinglingly against his mother’s slick-smooth nylon stockinged inner thighs, raising goosebumps, stoking his feverish fetish.

Frank groaned, agitatedly, the hot images firing his perverted fetish lusts and incestious passions. His hips and butt were a veritable pile driver now between his mother’s nylon stockinged legs, his rigid prick a augur that reamed his mother’s pussy. He forced her upheaving body deep into the mattress with each thrust now, plunging himself impossibly deep into her hot, stroking depths.

“Ooooohhhhh—oooohhhh—honey—oooohhhhhhhhhhh honey—” Martha groaned, desperately, as her son’s immense cock shaft stabbed relentlessly into her roiling depths, devastating her. His terrific thrusts stunned her, She lay beneath his slamming body, unable to move now, driven almost insensible by her son’s ferocious, fantastic fucking of her middle-aged pussy. “Honey—my honey, honey boy—please—you’re killing me—killing me—oooohhhhhhhhh—”

His head swirling with a seething frenzy, Frank was overcome by crazed, consuming passion, omce again. Deep in his loins, he felt the lust fire flare high—his balls were full of fiery cum—climax was now moments away—he rammed and rammed his mother’s body into the nattress, plunging his bloated, palpitating prick into the hot furnace of her pussy—

“Now, Mother,” he groaned, almost delerious now, “now—let me feel your stockings—”

His mother’s lovely legs in the seamed nylon stockings rose into the air at her son’s command. A heartbeat later, those sheer stockinged maternal legs were stroking her son’s naked bottom, hotly, silkily—

Frank groaned anew, fresh sweat breaking out all over his superheated body. Hot flashes radiated from where his mother’s gorgeous legs in those smooth, sheer stockings stroked him. His formidable organ pulsated with horny inflamation as it speared into his mother’s hot honey hole.

“Feel my stockings,” his mother moaned to him with love and lust. “Yes, honey boy...feel mother’s stockings...and fuck me...fuck me...”

The air was filled with the electric swish-swish of those slick-smooth nylon stockinged legs rubbing silkily against his pistoning buttocks. His naked bottom clenched and clenched with seething fetish stimulation beneath his mother’s stroking, nylon stockinged legs. His phallus pulsated with fiery illumination, stroked by his mother’s oily, slippery pussy sheath, ready to burst—

Now, with a yell, he plunged himself to the root inside his mother’s quivering, quaking depths a final time. He collapsed on his mother’s body. Ferocious spasms engulfed him. Deep inside his mother’s pussy, his engorged, inflamed cock pole jolted and jolted, killingly, jetting out the white lava from his bloated balls—

His middle-aged mother shouted, her own body seized with erotic convulsions as her son’s jolting ejaculation set off her own overwhelming climax. Her nylon stockinged legs wrapped around her son’s hard-clenching bottom, her arms crushing him to her. Frank’s body continued to spasm in a paroxsym of delerious orgasm, held tight by his mother’;s smooth arms and nylon stockinged legs, as his shuddering cock pole spilled stream after boiling stream of sperm into his mother’s womb. Beneath him, his mother held on tight to her son as her own body was racked and racked by her climax crescendo.

“God—Mother—uuuuuhhhhhh—I’m cumming—cuming in you—uuuhhhhhhh—uuuuUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

“Oooooooohhhh—darling—my darling—OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH—”

For an endless time, both mother and son shook and shook on her bed, thrashed by their stupendous double-climax...finally, their jolting orgasms waned...they lay together on her bed, in a deep embrace, kissing deeply, rapturously.

“Stay in me,” his mother moaned to him, “my wonderful one...”

“Why yes, Grandmother,” Frank said into the telephone receiver some time later. “I’d like to come over to see you tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s fine, Frank,” his grandmother’s voice gushed at the other end of the line. “Are you certain that ten o’clock is fine?”

“Yes, indeed, Grandmother.”

“I’m glad, Frank.” The elderly woman was pleased. “Then my housekeeper will be gone for the morning, and we’ll have time alone to catch up...just the two of us.”

“That’s what I want to...Grandmother...” Frank replied, his voice just a bit hoarse. Inwardly, he was quivering with anticipation.

“It certainly took me forever to get through to you,” his grandmother commented. “Who was on the phone all that time?”

“It was me, I confess,” Frank told he. “I had a long consultation with a local psychiatrist—he’s interested in my sharing offices with him. I apologize.”

“It’s no matter, dear. And that’s certainly good news! But you mustn’t tie up the line, dear boy. Between you and other folks, no one will be able to get a call in to your poor mother!”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Goodbye, Frank. Until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow.”

Frank lowered the receiver back into the cradle.

He was still naked, his tanned form sheened with sweat. He turned around.

His middle-aged mother, still naked save for the red lace garter belt, seamed nylon stockings, and high heeled pumps, sat on the edge of her bed, facing him. Her eyes weer half closed, her pupils dialated and glazed.

Just before the telephone had rung, Frank had placed his hypnotized mother into a profoundly deep trance.

Now, he said, “Can you hear me, Mother?”

“Yes...” his mother replied in the drowsy entranced voice.

“You will obey my commands now.”

“I...will...”

“You will shower again, and dress. Then we will go shopping, as you planned.”

“Yes...”

“You will forget what happened this morning. All you will recall is that we had breakfast and then left to go shopping. Do you understand?”

“I...understand...”

“When I leave this room, you will awaken. But you will go into a deep sleep when I command you to do so, and you will submit completely to me.”

“Yes...”

“You will remember the words: ‘seamed stockings.’”

“Yes...”

“When I say those words to you, no matter where you are or what you are doing, you will instantly fall into a deep sleep and obey my commands. Do you understand?”

“I...understand...” the hypnotized middle-aged woman replied, drowsily.

Suddenly, Frank had an inspiration.

“While we are shopping today, we will visit a lingerie store. You will want to visit that store. You will purchase a selection of garter belts, girdles, stockings, and other lingerie and shoes, with my approval.”

“Yes...”

“You will always wear sheer stockings for me, Mother...tonight...when I visit you...at midnight...”

“Yes...”

“You will want to wear stockings and high heels for me...to excite me...to please me...won’t you, Mother?”

“Yes, son...I will...”

“Very well, Mother. I’m leaving now. You will awaken when the door closes behind me. Although you will be awake, you will be under my power...and you will obey me.”

“Yes, son...I will...obey you...”

Frank left his mother’s bedroom...