Literotic asexstories – Strong Shoulders Pt. 04 by StoreyRaita,StoreyRaita
Please read Broken Shoulders (Pt1, 2 & 3) before reading any further.
As before, I’d like to thank you all for the lovely (and not so lovely) feedback. I can’t please everyone, and there will always be people that find fault instead of just accepting that they don’t like the story.
When I woke up the following morning, not only did my head hurt form the hangover but I felt totally ravaged by fear and worry. I had just divulged my most innermost secret, that I had fucked my own son. Not only that, I had admitted to all of my sexual indiscretions toward my son — and admitted that I was still desiring his cock. And I had admitted it to my own sister.
Don’t get me wrong — I trust my sister, and of all my siblings she is the one that keeps the secrets best. But just the fact that my secret was now known to another is always a worry. I suppose it’s the lack of control we feel.
Thankfully I had a busy day ahead, and although Emily tried to elicit more details from me over a morning coffee, I was able to distract her enough until I could announce that I had to go. I waved her off, a heavy weight on my shoulders. I no longer had any control of whom would find out about my indiscretions. What if Emily got drunk? What if she got angry with me and told someone out of spite? What if she used it against me?
It was all logical but unnecessary concerns. As an adult – Emily had never betrayed me before, never divulged my secrets out of spite and had never, ever used them against me. I say ‘as Adults’ because of course, yes as kids we all teased and threatened things. And maybe, perhaps that was what troubled me deep down.
For the rest of the day I busied myself as best I could, giving as little thought as possible to my actions or the possible ramifications. But that night, I began to contemplate and think on some of the things Emily had said that previous night — well, the things I could remember her saying leastways.
“I’m wiping the slate clean, dammit Jayne — I have to.” I said loudly, realising that I had referred to myself in the 3rd Person. What had happened that previous afternoon disturbed me. Ben was showing signs of being unable to compartmentalise the events between us. Did he think it was ‘normal’, even acceptable in normal society? What if his friends found out? What if Amber told her brother and he then told other students?
It was true, I consoled myself — Amber didn’t know the full story. But she knew I’d given Ben a blow job and so if her brother found out and then told others — Ben was going to get stigmatised and even humiliated and ridiculed. Students are merciless when it comes to that sort of thing.
And if Ben and Amber were to have a chance of making a go of it, Ben had to understand that it was not an option to have sex with his girlfriend AND his mother. I knew that any sexual contact Ben and I had from now on would just detract from his relationship with Amber. Of course, given what had happened between me and Amber — I’m not sure what I was most concerned about; Them splitting up or them staying together.
If they stayed together, then for sure Amber would be staying at my house a lot more. And would she then ‘come on’ to me as she had done that night? And if she did, would I be able to resist? Would I want to?
But if they split up, then Ben would no doubt turn to me for his sexual relief and again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist or that I’d want to.
Of course, for those that have been reading the full story — you’ll know the answer to that. To some of you it might seem like a win-win situation, I guess. Maybe it’s a glass half full vs glass half empty scenario. At that very moment, the best I could do was to acknowledge that the glass contained a liquid.
I didn’t hear much from Ben or Emily for the next few days. But then on the Wed, I got a text from Emily and then minutes later a text from Ben. Emily’s text was rambling, making little sense until Ben’s text arrived and then it became clear as to the cause of Emily’s excitement.
As I was to find out later, Emily and Ben had been texting regularly. And knowing my sister as I did, I shuddered to think what those texts might contain. Ben had made mention (to Emily) of a student party on the Sunday night and immediately Emily had decided she wanted to attend, despite being way too old to pass as a student.
“Ben said he can get us in.” she wrote in one particular text, making no reference to the party. It was only when Ben texted and said (asked) if I wanted to come to the party too. Ben made it clear that Aunt Emily had said she was going to the party no matter what, so I had the option to go with her.
In truth I didn’t want to go. It was a long way and as I said — I would be a frumpy 30 something woman amidst a load of ‘youngsters’ all of whom were young enough to be my son or daughter. Emily, on the other hand — was beside herself with excitement. Soon another text arrived from her. It said:
“Well, I’m going no matter what Sis, so it’s up to you if you come (and I’m sure you will be ‘cumming’ lol).”
That was Emily to a T. Opportunistic, excitable and adventurous. Even with Ben to look after her, I knew about Emily’s predilection for going off with random strangers for sex, and not always one at a time.
In all honesty, I feared for her. There would only be so much that Ben could do to look after her and if she fell into the wrong group, well — you hear these stories don’t you.
A part of me railed at the inconvenience, and told myself that she was a grown woman that could look after herself and make her own decisions. But the world is full of bereaved mothers and siblings who thought exactly that of their daughters or sisters that never came home.
Despite the fact I knew the pointlessness of it — I text Emily back to try to persuade her not to go. It was useless, as I soon found out. I pointed out that she would be so much older than the students, that it would be loud music and maybe even a few illicit drugs. I laboured the point that she wouldn’t know anyone except Ben and how dangerous it would be for her to be around a group of people she didn’t know.
Emily was having none of it. So I ended up using my last card. I pointed out that she had no where to stay, but when she explained the plan to me — well, let’s just say that is when my head exploded and I knew I was going to have to go with her to the party.
“I’m going to sleep on Ben’s floor.” She text using an exclamation mark and a smiley face.
My first instinct was to yell out “The FUCK you are.” If I allowed that to happen then there was only one way it was going to end — especially where alcohol and Emily were concerned, and I knew Ben wasn’t going to say no.
Thinking about it now, I do wonder if Emily just said that to get me to go with her. She knew the buttons to press and she knew what my reaction would be. Either way, knowing the plan — I was now resolved to going to this damn party.
The Sunday morning soon arrived so I drove round to Emily’s to pick her up then popping her suitcase in the back of the car – we set off. The first ten to fifteen minutes of the drive comprised of me thinking out loud about whether I’d locked the door, switched the lights off… etc. You’ll all know the drill.
Satisfied that all was well, I turned my thoughts to the upcoming event and I turned to look at my sister once more.
“Tell me again why we’re driving 3 hours to Ben’s Uni?” I asked, the utter stupidity of the venture now coming home to me as a mileage sign whizzed by reminding me of just how far we had still to go.
“It’s a ‘touch up’ party. Christ have you never wanted to go to one of these? I have for ages, never had them when I was at Uni.” Offered Emily sounding more excited than she should for someone her age.
I was 38 (then) and Emily was 35 — we were hardly trendy youngsters out for a bit of fun. And yet, that is EXACTLY how we were behaving.
Once I realised the sort of party it was, my anxiety levels skyrocketed. I knew what those parties entailed so I was more than a little reluctant and more than a little unsure. It would be students at the party, no older than 22 and so I questioned why any of them would want to ‘touch up’ a couple of middle aged fogies. I also questioned the wisdom of doing it around Ben’s friends. In fairness, Ben was going to pass us off as 2 of his ‘friends’ but even so, with alcohol involved there was always plenty of scope for the truth to slip out.
And then there was my own feeling of respect and self-worth to consider. Had I really sunk so low, was I really so desperate for male attention that I was willing to travel 3 hours, attend a party that was dubious at best in its integrity.
Ha — all of you reading this right now, you’ll know the answer to that. It was true I hadn’t had a decent fuck since… well, if we’re not counting Ben then in over a year. Yes, fucking Ben was incredible, but it also came with so much baggage. Guilt and angst, doubt and unsurety. Worry, concern, fear & loathing (of myself). Self ridicule, self doubt and an overall sense of total wrongness.
“I’m really not sure if I want all those people touching me.” I added haughtily.
Emily laughed, the laugh she also gave when I had said something daft or idiotic.
“It’s a separate area, silly. You only go into the area if you want to be touched.” Emily responded with a giggle.
There was a period of silence, as I began to compose in my mind some of the things I’d thought about from the heart to heart that Emily and I had indulged in earlier.
“You don’t really want to fuck him, do you?” I asked, glancing over at Emily.
From the look on her face, she was initially unsure of whom I was talking about but then the realisation set in.
“Who? Ben?” she asked, obviously trying to gain herself a bit of thinking time.
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