See the first part for disclaimers.
Thank you to all the people who read the first part of this story and were kind enough to comment. I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you're still reading! Please send me your thoughts on future chapters, and what you want to see.
Bree was a prim and proper woman. That's what good girls grew up to be. Not whores, or sluts, like that unfortunate Edie. Bree knew that sex was wrong, even when in marriage. She kept her beloved husband Rex at arm's length until she felt she had to satisfy him to salvage her marriage. George - may he rest in peace or rot in hell, depending on how Bree felt that day - was a sad and basically asexual man. That suited Bree just fine, as sex was icky and led to bad things.
So that's why Bree was so astonished to wake up to find her negligee removed, her breasts exposed and her immaculately trimmed red bush inflamed in the bright light of the late morning sun. Bree, her head pounding, soon noticed the dried-up white stain on her thigh, and realized something bad must have happened. Did she eat ice cream in bed? Did she misapply her moisturizer? Or had she done what Edie liked to do and invited some random barfly into her bed to pound her senseless?
Bree tried not to think about it. Danielle and Andrew were at school and Bree had her usual routine. She was about to go to the local conservative ladies who lunch meeting when she noticed an instant photo taped on her bathroom mirror. She saw herself naked for the first time (good girls don't look at their nude bodies in mirrors). Bree was secretly impressed with how good she looked for a woman in her years of middle age, but the lewdness of the photo, the way her legs were spread like she was a common street whore...
Bree went about her business and went to the kitchen to prepare a small lunch for herself. There, in her favorite drawer, she saw another photo. This of someone - a man, by the looks of it - with his face buried deep into her cunt. Bree knew she should be outraged - this was a violation! - but she was instead confused and intrigued. The man looked familiar to her, the back of his head, the shape of his bare shoulders. Bree began to feel her nipples harden in her white sweater.
Bree went to clean Andrew's bedroom. She suspected he was behind this. He must have hired someone to make her look like a whore. She rummaged through his closet, and found a shoebox with "FOR MOM" scrawled on the lid. Inside...photos of Andrew grinning into the camera, his impish face in strong closeup. Photos of Andrew stripping off his shirt, flexing, showing off his surprisingly muscular chest and biceps. Photos of Andrew pulling down his shorts, showing a juicy, plump ass. Then photos of Andrew's pride and glory - 8 fat, thick inches. Bree let out an involuntary moan at what her son had between his legs. Rex was never anywhere near that endowed. Andrew took after her side of the family. Finally, Bree saw Andrew's cock positioned near her wet, enflamed pussy lips. She knew then that he had had his way with her.
Embarrassment flushed through Bree, turning her body as red as her hair. Her son. She had been intimate with her own son. How could he do that to her? Yet there was also a sense of pride. Had she made her son turn straight? Was this a sign from above that the relationship was pure, as she had helped her son find the light?
Lost in her thoughts, Bree noticed a dildo placed beside the photos. Bree assumed that was also for her. Bree wondered where that had come from, and what parts of Andrew's or Justin's body it had been stuck in.
Disoriented, Bree sat down on her son's bed. She didn't want to think about what had happened between them. She didn't want to question why she felt such a lust for her own son, and why the images of a naked Andrew and Justin writhing and pleasuring each other were flooding her mind today as well as on previous days. She didn't want to imagine why she felt pride in what her son had done to her.
She decided not to think at all. She'd done too much of that over the years. Too much of caring about what was right and what other people felt. All she sensed was the pure sexual energy coursing through her.
Without thinking, Bree ran the dildo up and down the crotch of her skirt. Unzipping her skirt, she lowered the garment to the floor and sat on the bed in her high heels, sweater, and her black panties. She slid the dildo against the silk panties, whimpering at the object so close to her velvet folds. After a quick inspection she found a small button on the dildo. When pressed, a low but consistent humming sound emanated. Bree slid the vibrating dildo against her slit and let out a very improper moan.
Bree began to fuck herself with the plastic penis which pulsated in her hand. Her well-manicured fingers slid into her sweater, through her bra, and she began to pinch and twist her nipples. Bree felt the first of many orgasms. Bree felt alive for the first time.
From another room, Andrew sat back and watched a large television. His pants were lowered, and his fat dong spewed a fresh load onto his flat belly. He greedily licked at his own soncum. The vision in front of him was taken from the camera he'd installed in his bedroom. Footage of his mother masturbating on her son's bed, to nude picture of her son. Andrew's plan was working. He now had more ammo to use in his plans for Bree. He had her just where he wanted her.
Neither Bree nor Andrew realized that the story had only just begun.