Corrupting the Bradley’s – Tim 02
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Corrupting the Bradley’s – Tim 2
A The Theft of Our Lives Side-Story
By Tug Coxwell
Disclaimer: This story and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a multi-part story containing various sex acts between adults, including incest, oral, bisexual, coercion, corruption, and cuckolding. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years old or older. All rights reserved.
Author’s Note: The final part of this chapter. This is a previously unposted side-story to the Theft of Our Lives series, normally found in the Non-Consent category. It helps if you’re familiar with the back story, but it’s not essential to following this chapter. New material will be forthcoming soon.
COMPLETING THE ASSIGNMENT
Another week passed, with the illicit Mother Swapping Club hooking up nearly every day, while Kerri and I both went about our normal routines, although her daily grind was quite different than my own.
While I did paperwork and filled-out mindless forms, our daughter attended classes, interspersed with a visit to her advisor Professor Chuck Robertson’s office for ‘counseling,’ and an afternoon gangbang with Hank, Ike, and a few of their cronies.
Courteously, our respectful daughter waved to me on her way to Hank’s office dressed in a short. ruffled skirt, mid-drift blouse sans bra, and sneakers, fortunately accompanied that afternoon by Marg Jorgensen to share the load.
Kerri’s week also included an overnight stay at a swanky downtown hotel entertaining 50-something Mrs. Cynthia Clarke, a highly valued vendor with a doctorate in Systems Management and a penchant for fresh-faced, intelligent, and of course, big-titted young women.
Apparently, the erudite lady got a perverse thrill discussing advanced social theories and other issues of the day, even while driving an unyielding 10″ strap-on cock into her female plaything, so it was important they were smart enough to contribute to the dialectic, even if between throaty grunts and deep groans.
I don’t know if our popular daughter was relieved being excused from the clandestine shenanigans at home or neglected by her non-inclusion in the naughty frolicking occurring in plain view, but I noticed she spent a night visiting her devoted aunt and lesbian mentor, Betsy.
I’ve not had the demented pleasure of seeing Emma’s free-spirited little sister and our adorable freckled-faced daughter together sexually.
That fact alone sent my imagination soaring with lewd images of the pretty, large-breasted duo in a variety of steamy positions, with Betsy educating Kerri on the joys of girl-on-girl sex in furtherance of Hank’s dictate she be trained in the Sapphic arts for the benefit of Mrs. Clarke, among other lady lovers.
At home, the shrill moans and sighs of Anja cumming hard under the relentless fucking of our accommodating son, Kellen, were matched only by the bellowing grunts of Tim Bradley screwing my overzealous wife in our marital bed.
“Oh god, yes, hammer me, Tim. Pound my cunt with your big cock,” Emma’s animalistic growls of lust reverberated through our bedroom door and off the walls of the hallway.
After her poolside sampling of Anja’s delicious pussy, Emma was pleased to report to Hank her successful seduction of our lovely neighbor, but my demanding boss wanted still more.
As I suspected, eating the charming, exotic Finnish mother’s flavorful snatch was only a start.
Hank wanted regular Sapphic dalliances with full-on reciprocal sex between Emma and the increasingly debased raven-tressed beauty. More than that, he wanted an incestuous relationship developed between besotted Mrs. Bradley and her handsome 18-year-old son, Tim, and he wanted it soon.
“Why, Hank? Why are you making me do this?” Emma bawled, breaking propriety imploring him for a reason, even an irrational justification, for defiling the wholesome mother and son from down the street.
“Because it’s fun making you suffer, and because I can. That’s all that matters,” Hank declared supremely, displeased by her disrespectful rant, but glorying in the pure power he held over Emma and our family.
Quite frankly, that’s what my warped boss cared about most – power and wielding it exacting his revenge on us, in this case against me, my wife, and our unfortunate family, all because of my stupidity.
The fact alone there was no greater purpose than for Hank’s pleasure was undoubtedly devastating on my ethical wife’s psyche, but it didn’t deter Emma from pursuing her assignment, with preserving our family exceeding every other consideration, even the Bradley’s sanctity and dignity.
“Emma, you better get those two in the sack together within the week or it’s not going to go well for the Tyler’s,” Hank concluded sternly, veins bulging on his forehead and booting her from his office without so bursa escort much as a grope of her braless tits, he was so vexed.
With that knowledge in mind, I kept an open and observant eye on the comings and goings around our house, checking for progress by my distressed wife on her designated assignment. Fortunately, that suited my blossoming voyeuristic tendencies quite well.
I found myself constantly aroused by the nasty chicanery as Emma drew Anja and Tim further down the rabbit hole, straining my unrelenting cock cage without relief, just as Hank intended, and feeding my prurient need for the humiliation of cuckolding that was rapidly becoming an addiction.
On Tuesday evening, Mrs. Bradley came knocking, looking for Kellen, of course, but once again learning he wasn’t home, eager, and ready to fuck her into next week as she hoped.
“No Tim tonight?” Emma asked curiously upon answering the door, actually relieved finding Anja standing alone in a light summer outfit without her aggressively horny son.
“Not tonight. Frank went to an entrepreneurial success symposium or some such thing for the rest of the week, and Tim is anchored to an intense video game he says he can’t quit until he wins,” the exasperated mother replied.
“Disappointing, but I guess video games rival even pussy in young men’s lives,” my wife joked, but wasn’t really upset, needing a day off from the constant demands of the insatiable young buck, unable to get enough of mauling her tits before slipping my wife his perpetually raging hard-on.
“Um, yep. Anyway, I’m afraid you’re on your own tonight,” Anja commiserated with a telling lift of an eyebrow, apologizing for leaving her friend high and dry, especially after assuming she’d be getting pinned to Kellen’s mattress herself.
“That’s okay, sweetie, I can use a night to recover,” Emma excused cheerfully. “Tim is quite energetic. It’s tough for an old gal like me to keep up.”
“I suppose that’s true of Kellen too. Although in fairness, in the last few weeks I can’t seem to get enough,” Anja agreed, squirming with expectation, and not wanting to chit-chat too long when she could be going down on our son’s hard cock instead.
The words were exactly what Emma wanted to hear, confirmation she was slowly but surely turning the mild-mannered wife and mother into a sex-obsessed cockhound and looking to continue walking Anja down that path.
“I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t, um, taken care of me last Sunday,” Mrs. Bradley admitted sheepishly about the marvelous cunt-munching orgasms Emma provided in her time of need.
“Well, maybe you can return the favor sometime,” my wife cleverly twisted her gratitude into a self-serving guilt trip with a salacious grin, receiving a nervous nod of recognition in return from the firmly heterosexual mother.
Anja still harbored an inherent discomfort at the thought of cunnilingus, but also sensed a warm rush of stimulation at the memory, and even at the untried act of burying her face between my sultry wife’s long, toned legs.
“Um, yes, I suppose I owe you one,” the dark-haired matron answered shyly.
“One? I counted at least three, and maybe more,” Emma retorted saucily, referencing Anja’s multiple orgasms that afternoon, to which I was a happy witness.
“Well, anyway, is it alright if I just head to Kellen’s room?” Anja asked, breaking off the lewd banter.
“You can, but you won’t find him there. He’s out with Brian and some buddies for the evening but will probably be back in a few hours,” my wife said truthfully.
“Awwhh, no, really?” Anja bemoaned, visibly crestfallen at the absence of her reliable ‘go to’ stud, and subconsciously starting her unreleased sexual tension dance, twisting on her feet in our entryway and biting her bottom lip.
“Really,” Emma affirmed plainly. “Honestly, I’m surprised Tim’s not with them, but I guess even young studs need time apart every now and again.”
“I suppose,” the saddened housewife pouted as if denied her favorite toy, which in fact was the case.
“Why not come in and we can have a lady’s night? You know, see if we can take off some of the pressure until Kel gets home, then he’ll be all yours for the night,” my wife offered, seizing the opportunity to advance her plan, especially since time was short.
“Ray’s out?” Anja asked apprehensively, uncertain if she should accept knowing Emma almost certainly intended to get her into bed and unsure if she could really ‘return the favor’ in payment of her debt.
“He’s in his study, dear, but we’ve already had this conversation. Ray won’t bother us. I’ve got him under control. If we decide to get it on, you’ll never see him,” Emma promised, then had another thought.
“Unless, of course, you’d like to get off with him watching. He’d love that,” she added, knowing I’d be thrilled witnessing an up close and personal lesbian performance by the alluring pair of naturally straight suburban housewives.
Tossing out the bizarre set-up bursa escort bayan as a kinky option, at the expense of my dignity once more, Emma eased Anja slowly into the reality that I’m truly a voyeur and cuckold, aware of Emma’s relationship with Tim, and now with her as well, and extremely anxious to watch the Bradley’s grope, grapple, and grasp my wife’s statuesque body at the height of passion.
“Well, I’m not sure that’s necessary, but I suppose a drink and a chat would be nice,” Anja gulped at the perverse thought, but accepted gratefully, talking herself into the fiction this might just be an innocent evening of pleasant gab and hoping Kellen might just show up and whisk her into his bed.
“Let’s do that, Anja,” Emma concurred, driving her own agenda that didn’t include merely talk. “I’ll get the bourbon and we can go to the sitting area of my bedroom. It’ll be more private there and you won’t need to worry about running into Ray.”
Any doubts Anja held about my wife’s plans for the evening were quickly dispelled by the invitation to our bedroom, but courageously, she stayed the course with her decision, driven by her fervent need for our son and his indefatigable cock.
Unable to admit it even to herself, the cautious woman sensed a repressed but genuine affection for Emma, sparked in part by her beauty, but also her kindness and friendly demeanor. Anja also secretly appreciated my wife’s homespun qualities and, somewhat to her discomfort, was also attracted to her magnificent breasts and inviting curves.
“You know we’re not here just to talk, right?” Emma said boldly almost the instant the bedroom door closed, settling into the two chairs formerly used by us for late-night reading as a normal married couple in more innocent times.
“Can we do that first, though? I’m just, well, a little nervous,” Anja confessed, understanding Emma’s ulterior motive although still confounded by this previously unknown bisexual bent and her friend’s surprising pursuit of a not-so-secret sexual relationship between them.
“Yes, Anja, of course, but don’t be uncomfortable. It’s just me, the same Emma Tyler you’ve known all these years,” she compassionately reassured.
My wife intuitively understood Anja’s trepidation after experiencing her own reluctance about entering into a lesbian coupling, albeit with our own 19-year-old daughter, and took sympathy on her moral and emotional struggle.
“Oh, thank you. I want you to know I really appreciate how you’ve looked out for me after everything with Frank and our marriage,” Anja prattled sincerely, naïve in her understanding of my caring wife’s true motivations and relaxing with a calming sip of her cocktail.
An hour and a couple of glasses of bourbon later, my persuasive wife had talked the horny but reticent housewife out of her clothes – touching, hugging, and then romantically kissing, before moving to our bed where they intimately explored every enticing inch, generous curve, and supple slope of their appealing bodies.
Emma was soon between the lovely lady’s widespread legs, applying her tongue delightfully over the sensitive pink folds of her slippery wet slit, dipping deeply into the well of Anja’s steaming pussy and taunting her responsive love pearl, exquisitely wringing out at least two climaxes I heard distinctly from the study.
“Ohhhhh, Emma, that’s so marvelous. Mmmh, you know every trick, don’t you? Ah-awwhhh,” Anja praised effusively when my gifted wife tugged at her puffy labia with a gentle teething before dancing gingerly over her lady lover’s preening clitoris generating yet another stirring orgasm.
“I’ve picked up a few, um, twists,” Emma replied with a sly grin in a tremendous understatement.
“Kellen’s got nothing on you, that’s for sure. It must run in the family,” the satisfied mother cooed minutes later, lying on her back recovering between deep breaths of contentment.
“Perhaps, but I was inspired by your delicious pussy, Anja,” my wife declared boldly, slipping her wandering hand to her new lover’s neatly trimmed mound, and running her fingers playfully through the nest of soft black curls.
Anja stared down her belly as Emma’s emerald eyes peering over the crest of her mound, an endearing gaze of adoration in her smile, finding a quality in her attentive lovemaking she’d never experienced with a man.
“I haven’t had a woman with such a nicely tamed bush in a while,” Emma remarked in idle lover’s chat during the interlude between oral sessions, twirling a few strands around her finger while appreciating the gentle curve of the charming wife’s graceful pubis.
“Emma, may I ask, um, have you always kept your pussy bald?” Anja inquired curiously, still somewhat bashful but surrendering herself to the spirit of the moment and the unique nature of their developing relationship.
“Only since I started doing this, I mean, playing with girls, but mostly at their request,” my wife answered provocatively. “I think it tickles their nose, escort bursa just as it tickles mine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. It never occurred to me,” the embarrassed mother confessed, blushing at her perceived ignorance, and feeling terribly unsophisticated.
“That’s only because you’ve never eaten cunt,” Emma charged playfully, employing the crude term purposely, adding to Anja’s sense of her shortcomings as a lover. “I like your furry little nest. It’s so precisely trimmed and well-groomed, but I’d be happy to shave your dainty puss, if you’d like?”
“I, uh, ohhh, well,” Anja stammered at the offer, uncertain how to respond as Emma traveled up her reclining body, setting herself directly above her newest conquest’s doubtful face.
Hoping to change the subject, the uncertain mother placed her hand on the back of Emma’s head, drawing her in for a kiss, but only falling deeper into my wife’s manipulative embrace.
‘Whew,’ they sighed, breathless after another deep, tongue probing, open-mouthed embrace building their passion.
Emma pressed forward, lustful, randy, and ready to complete her neophyte girlfriend’s Sapphic education as another successful step in completing Hank’s fractious assignment, and at the same time receive her own reward.
“You’ve come a long way in a short time, Anja,” she observed honestly, leveling with her target, but with the design of pushing her forward, rather than scaring her off. “Now that you’ve started, don’t you want to go farther? There’s so much out there, and so much more fun to explore.”
“I do,” Anja gushed excitedly before even realizing the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, I, uh, feel so alive. So energized. I do want more.”
The words were music to my wife’s ears and an answer to her prayers, signaling that perhaps, just perhaps, she might actually accomplish the sordid task of corrupting the incorruptible woman, bringing her forthright son along too, as my boss demanded.
Now, Emma simply needed to get Anja over the line, meaning the pretty Finn’s face between her legs, and ultimately Tim in his mother’s bed.
“It’s okay to do more, Anja. I promise, my snatch doesn’t bite, and besides, you owe me, remember?” she encouraged, deviously leveraging her prey’s guilt and titillation, dropping her hand low between them, locating Anja’s roused clitoris, and giving a light swirl with her middle finger over the twitching bud.
“Mmmmmh, I want more,” the wavering housewife hummed a sigh at the incursion, parting her alabaster thighs and willingly letting her mentor provoke the perceptive charm between her legs hoping she’d return her skilled tongue.
Aggressive in her need, Emma didn’t take the bait, capturing Anja’s slight shoulders and rolling her statuesque body onto her back, bringing the petite European damsel along for the ride landing on top of her torso.
“Whoa, tell me what you really want,” Anja gasped, taken aback by the ferocity of the act, and staring awestruck into my wife’s impassioned green eyes.
“Anja, please, I’m so worked up, I need you to help me as I helped you,” Emma implored, lightly admonishing her for taking but not giving, then speaking her need in unequivocal terms. “I need you to eat me, Anja. I need you to lick my pussy and make me cum.”
A frozen moment filled Anja’s enlivened eyes pondering the meaning of the words – fear, anxiety, trepidation?
Then, her crystalline blue eyes softened, thinking of their conversation only moments earlier, and wanting to put sincerity to her words. Slowly, a wicked grin broke across Anja’s elegant face, and the indulgent late-30’s minx dipped low placing a lingering kiss on Emma’s mouth.
Seductively nuzzling Emma’s neck, the possessed raven-haired angel applied a breezy brush of her lush lips along the ridge of her Sapphic tutor’s collar bone, before working her way south to her tempting, cherry-capped melons, sweetly teasing the sensitive nipples into thick, inch-long eraser tips.
As with any man, Anja simply couldn’t resist lingering in the desirable playground of Emma’s giant tits, nursing hungrily on the succulent pink buds and happily caressing the massive flow of jello-y flesh sloping to the sides of her torso, pressing the huge mounds from the sides and marveling at their impressive weight in squishing them together.
“Please, Anja, you can play with my tits later, I promise. Right now, I need you between my legs,” my agitated wife pleaded, genuinely at wit’s end with Anja’s obsessive infatuation with her responsive breasts, just as was Tim, only fueling the flames of her dire need to cum.
Reluctantly, the fascinated mother broke away, devotedly traversing the quivering surface of Emma’s rounded tummy, pondering her introductory excursion into pussy eating with every inch of her journey along her tall lover’s luscious frame, but intent on placating her cherished friend.
“Ohhh, please, hurry. I’m on fire,” my anxious wife begged when Anja arrived at the top of her clean-shaven mound.
Mentally preparing herself to take the plunge into the world of lesbian lovemaking, the nervous hetero beauty paused one last time between Emma’s parted thighs, inhaling deeply, and immersing herself in the heady aromas of her paramour’s fragrant feminine dew.
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