Mary stares into the crotch of her son’s jeans. Her
surprise at seeing Tommy standing in front of her is so
complete, she is temporarily rendered mute. She is on
her hands and knees on the kitchen floor like a dog…
waiting for a bone.
With trembling fingers, Mary Drummond fumbles with the
zipper of son’s pants. After pulling it down, she
“Take it out.”
“No, I can’t.”
Mary knows her position is ridiculous. Saying mother-
son incest is wrong while on her hands and knees on the
kitchen floor with one breast hanging out of her bra is
strikes her as absurd. But she knows in her heart that
it is wrong. She wants Tommy to stop pushing her. She
wants him to stop tormenting her. With his pants
unzipped, Tommy starts circling her, like a small dog,
undecided about how to mount a bitch of a larger breed.
“Is it wrong?”
“Yes, it is.” Mary says.
“Then, let’s do something right.”
“Phone Dad. Tell him you need him.”
“I can’t. We’re getting divorced.”
“Him or me, mother’s choice.”
Teetering on the brink of incest, Mary takes much too
long to decide. The pause before answering embarrasses
her. It makes it appear as if she were considering
sucking her own son’s dick, and letting him fuck her
like a dog on the kitchen floor.
“I’ll phone,” Mary finally answers.
While she phones, Tommy recites a poem from memory.
When there’s marriage,
there will be love,
So it is better to love,
in spite of faults,
then because of virtues.
Charles Drummond hangs up the telephone shaking his
head. His soon-to-be ex-wife, Mary, has just invited
him over to talk about a reconciliation. None of this
makes any sense, but his son, Tommy, had warned him to
be expecting something unusual. Tommy told him that
Mary had ridiculed him for being a wimp.
After dinner, and too many glasses of wine, she
confessed to Tommy that she needed a more assertive,
less politically correct man, who took control. She
wanted a controller, a boundary setter, a master of the
moment. Charles is none of these things. Wearing
banker’s gray pinstriped suits with his styled
prematurely gray hair, at 45 years, Charles looks and
acts like a sophisticated Company Executive Officer
incapable of anything except the most deferentially
Before Charles Drummond arrives, Tommy tells his mother
she will have to seduce her husband. He tells her he
will make an exact measure of the success of her
efforts, but she will be allowed complete privacy. Mary
has no idea how Tommy expects to measure the seduction
without being a witness. She discounts the idea of
anyone making an exact measure of love as being
impossibly naive, and unromantic. Charles arrives
before she has time to ponder the possibilities.
“I’m glad you could come.” Mary greets her husband,
“You look wonderful,” answers Charles looking over his
wife for the first time in two months. She is dressed
in a yellow floral print spring dress with a low scoop
neckline. Her red hair is brushed back and tied with a
white ribbon. The dress is too short, falling just
above the knees which gives her a little girl look that
is accented with bright red coral lipstick and gold
hoop earrings. Both her dress and demeanor are unlike
anything Charles can remember. Has Mary changed?
“Thank you,” gushes Mary giving him a quick wet kiss
directly on the lips.
Remembering Tommy’s comments, Charles Drummond decides
this is the only opportunity he will have for testing
Mary’s confessed preference for forceful men. He starts
forcefully, but unsure of himself.
“Come with me,” Charles boldly grabs his wife by the
hand. He says the words slowly so she can savor the
sexual implications. He leads her upstairs to their
bedroom. He is surprised at the lack of protest from
his wife. Maybe, just maybe, Tommy is right. Inside the
bedroom, Mary tries to kiss him again, but Charles
pushes her away.
“On your knees!” Charles commands never expecting to be
Mary sinks to her knees.
Mary unzips him.
“Take it out!”
Mary gently removes his flaccid penis, letting it hang
out of his charcoal gray suit. Power pulses through
Charles. It surges through his body like an electric
current. His heart thumps as if he had just finished
running a race. By God! He loves it! Just thinking
about the control is making him hard.
He grabs his rapidly growing penis and rubs it boldly
across Mary’s lips. Some of her coral red lipstick
smears off onto the side of his dick. Just when Charles
does not think it can get any better, it does.
From her kneeling position, Mary lifts her green eyes
upward and gives him an encouraging smile. Looking up
at her husband’s face, Mary smiles thinking how Tommy
and not Charles is forcing her into sex. Mary imagines
Tommy as a cupid of love, and her smile broadens.
Emboldened by this smile, Charles starts talking dirty.
“Suck me, you bitch!”
Mary wraps her coral red lips around his fully hardened
dick. She sucks him with an eager wetness Charles never
enjoyed in their 18 years of marriage. Sucking on his
cock like some whore, Mary is going to make him climax
in no time. Realizing the problem, Charles pushes her
down on the bed.
“Spread your legs, you slut!”
Mary eagerly spreads her legs. Charles thrusts his hand
under her dress. She is not wearing any panties. He
probes her with his fingers. She is wet. His fingers
make a satisfying squishing sound as they plunge into
her pussy. The feel of his hard bony fingers plunging
into her cunt awakens Mary’s lust.
“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” she begs him.
“Beg for it, you slut!”
“Please fuck me!”
“You want my cock?”
“Yes, I need your hard hot cock.”
“Take your tits out, you whore!”
Mary scoops her breasts out of the top of her dress
pushing them together with her hands. Charles bites the
nipples on her breasts and slams his cock into her at
the same time. He is brutal. Taking only what he wants.
He wastes no time worrying about the pleasures or pains
of his wife. Forcing her to bend her legs in the air,
he thrust deeply inside her until the head of his dick
hits her cervix. He pumps into her without mercy,
expending much of the pent-up resentment from the
He uses her. It is not an act of love, but neither is
it rape. It is pure sex for the selfish pleasure of
only one person, Charles Drummond. He fucks his wife
mercilessly. He fucks her like a teenager. His climax
is quick, but long and deep. He floods her cunt with
Not bothering to kiss or hug his wife, Charles
immediately withdraws after climaxing. He dresses
quickly looking with satisfaction at the goo oozing
from the lips of her pussy. Her knees still bent, Mary
has made no effort to cover herself.
“The divorce is off.” Charles tells Mary. “I’ll have
the attorneys void the dissolution agreement this
Numbed by the assault, Mary parrots his words, “The
divorce is off,” she concedes without protest as
Charles leaves the bedroom. She is exhausted. Her knees
tremble. She did not climax, but the emotional tension
of surrendering to her husband has left her drained.
Like a cancellation stamp, her sexual submission has
voided the divorce.
Mary assembles the pieces in her mind. Tommy will
measure the success of her seduction by the
cancellation of the divorce. Without the divorce, he
will retain his power to blackmail her. The illogical
thought flickers briefly in Mary’s mind that her son,
Tommy, has fucked her by not fucking her. He has chosen
incest by proxy. Tommy has fucked his mother through
his father. Saving the marriage was Tommy’s goal from
the very beginning. Tommy was using sexual blackmail to
play cupid with his parents.
All the pieces fit, but Mary is still immobilized with
doubt. She speculates about Tommy’s motives instead of
cleaning herself up. She can feel the cum oozing out of
Without knocking, Tommy enters the bedroom. Embarrassed
by her position, Mary drops her knees hoping the short
floral dress will cover the goo between her legs. He is
carrying a tablespoon, tapping it softly against the
palm of his hand. Tommy bends down over Mary’s head.
She can see her face reflected on the back of the
silver spoon. It looks like he’s going to kiss her in
gratitude for cancelling the divorce, but his lips
slide down the side of her face. With his lips so
close, she can feel them against her ear, Tommy
whispers, “From your lips to your lips.”
Mary closes her eyes. The whispering sounds poetic. The
words tickle her ear. With her eyes closed, Tommy’s
words remind Mary of her wedding vows, “From your hand
to my hand, with this ring I thee wed”. She thinks her
son is about to recite a poem until he inserts the cold
metal spoon between her lips. Opening her eyes in
horror, Mary knows how Tommy will make a precise
measure of how well she seduced her husband.
“Time for dessert,” Tommy whispers.