Man of the House
After his father's death, it's up to Eric to step up and comfort his mother - whether or not she wants it.
The last of the mourners had finally been thanked for their condolences and ushered politely - but firmly - out the door. Still, the large, stately house echoed with the whispers of their gossip.
"Too bad about, well, you know.."
"... with the secretary! I heard..."
"..while he was driving!"
"...is that why they crashed?"
Helen, a long-haired calico feline anthro, kicked off her shoes and shook her head, trying to push the memories of the words out of her head. Oh Ralph, why did you have to be soo... stupid? She could have forgiven the adulteries. Had done so, in fact, as long as he'd kept it discreet. She'd forgiven the comments about her intelligence, the dismissive attitude, the way he made plans without her input then expected her to make them happen.
Through it all, she had been his doting, devoted, wife. All she asked in return was discretion and at least the pretense of being a loving husband and father. But he'd made such a public spectacle of himself - and worse - of her and their son. She couldn't bear it.
Eric was staring at her. Had he just said something? Pull yourself together Helen.
"I'm sorry, honey, what was that?"
His eyes - hazel, just like his late father's - were clouded with worry.
"Mom? Are you okay? I should have made them leave hours ago"
Helen shook her head and smiled. He was such a kind young man. When had her tiny, round, adorable, baby-pup grown into a tall, capable, muscular, young wolf? Around when I grew from a blushing, teen-aged bride to a frumpy, middle-aged, widow, she thought, twitching her fluffy tail ruefully.
"Just a little tired, honey. Why don't we leave the cleaning for later? I could use a nap, and you look like you could too."
"You go ahead," he urged her, "I'll just put a few things away."
Helen wanted to protest, but Eric shooed her firmly away. He had taken such good care of her through his whole ordeal. She would have to make it up to him.
Though Helen had meant to sleep, her calm facade cracked as soon as she was alone. Ralph had been arrogant, self centered, and incapable of being faithful. But he had aslo been charming, funny, incredibly sweet (though only when he felt like it), and all she'd known for her entire adult life.
Highschool sweethearts, she had gotten pregnant senior year and they were married right after graduation. And ever since she had been Mrs Ralph McCabe. His shadow, his support behind the scenes, the wind beneath his wings. But now he was gone, and in just two short months, Eric would be too, as he headed off to college. What was she to do with her life?
Financially, she was taken care of, which was good. Who would hire her with no work history to speak of? She had no friends or hobbies - Ralph hadn't liked her to focus on "frivolities." The decades stretched out before her, empty and alone.
She broke down in tears, ugly crying until she had run out of tears, out of sorrow, out of hope. Now she sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at nothing. She felt empty, hollowed out, a withered husk of a person. Helen didn't know how long she had been sitting there when the door cracked open.
It was Eric, cell phone in hand.
"Mom, the estate lawyer says...."
He stopped, taking in her disheveled appearance. Eric's brows furrowed, and his ears flattened back against his skull. Quickly he ended the call.
"You've been crying."
"I'm okay honey. What did Frank want?"
"Some papers. I'll handle it, don't worry. But... are you okay?"
Helen brushed the wetness off her face and mustered her best smile
"I'm alright, honestly."
Eric didn't look convinced.
"Mom..." he trailed off, looking uncertain.
Eric's jaw was tight and his hands clenched. His tail twitched nervously behind him.
Helen's heart tightened at the sight. Eric had been her rock through all this. His strong, solid, presence had given her the strength to face the gossiping busy bodies with calm and poise. He had stepped up so magnificently as the man of the house that she forgot how young he still was. Though poised on the edge of independence, he was still very much a boy at heart. She should never have let him feel responsible for her wellbeing.
"C'mere, baby" she said, patting the bed next to her. He settled in beside her, leaning down to rest his head on her slight shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, just like when he was little.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she ran her fingers through his dark silky hair, and stroked the velvety softness of his ears.
"For what?" His voice was low in her ears.
"I forgot how hard this must be for you. You know, your father..." she took a deep breath to steady her shaking voice.
"He wasn't perfect by any means. But... he loved you. He would have been so proud..." her voice cracked on the last word, and she held back a sob.
Eric shook his head.
"That's not what.. I mean, I don't.."
Eric trailed off. He raised his head to look her in the eyes. His nose was almost brushing her own. Eric's eyes blazed with emotions that Helen couldn't read. Poor boy. What did it do to a boy to lose his father and learn the humiliating truth about him all in the same week?
Wordlessly, he dropped his head back to her shoulders, nuzzling her throat with his cold nose. Suddenly, Helen was acutely aware of his hands at her waist, and his head dropping lower to rest on her bosom. Eric had his late father's height, meaning he was over a foot taller than her five foot nothing. He had to almost bend double rest his head.
"Mom," his voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, "please? I need..." he nuzzled lightly at her chest.
"No." she said at once. "Baby, you're not a little kid anymore. You're bigger than I am!"
Of all things, this was the last thing she had expected. Though, perhaps, it shouldn't have been.
Ralph had always hated that Helen had nursed Eric so long - almost until he was four. After that, Ralph had outright forbidden it. But still, Eric had secretly come to her sometimes for comfort. He came when he had nightmares, when he was being bullied, when some girl broke his heart. And she had given him what he needed.
It never occurred to her to consider this unnatural or wrong. He was her baby, and she was his mother. What could be more natural? But, even so, she had put a stop to it a few years ago when she could no longer deny his emerging adulthood. Whatever Eric's feelings might have been, Helen's had been purely maternal.
Now, Helen tried to disentangle herself from his embrace. But his strong, muscular, arms tightened and locked around her.
"Please, mom," he said in a choked whisper. "One last time. It's just... it's been so hard_hard. It's too much. _Please..."
Helen swallowed. She wanted to say no, but it broke her heart to see him hurting like this. He had shouldered so much of the burden, handled almost all of the logistics in the aftermath of Ralph's death. To protect me, she thought, with a pang of guilt. She owed him.
"Just this once," she gulped. "It's the very last time."
She reached for the buttons of her black, high-collared, silk blouse, but Eric brushed her fingers away.
"Let me do it"
Helen shivered as his hands slowly worked their hands down her blouse. It had been so long since a man had undressed her. Ralph, with all his dalliances, rarely had time for her. And even then, it was usually over before she had even begun to enjoy herself.
_Stop it, _she chided herself. He was her son! Her own flesh and blood. And even if he hadn't been, a young man like Eric, tall, broad shouldered, ruggedly handsome, and still coming into his prime, wouldn't be interested in a woman on the wrong side of thirty.
Though not fat, there was no denying that motherhood had plumped out the slim, lithe, body of her youth. Her once firm, perky, breasts now drooped under their own pendulous weight unless constrained by lace and underwire. Even then, nothing could stop them from jiggling embarrassingly with every step. Taught, flat, belly had rounded out into a pillowy softness that would not be banished by any amount of exercise or dieting. Girish hips had filled out into full, womanly, curves. When she walked, they swung with a rhythm that drew attention to her generously plump backside. A backside that bounced as she walked.
The overall effect, if she'd been aware of it, was one of squeezably soft voluptuousness. The soft swells of her body tempted hands to touch, stroke, pinch, and knead. But Helen compared herself to the fashionable young girls in magazines and only saw herself as fat, decrepit and sagging.
This self-deprecating reverie was interrupted by the feel of the cool, slippery, silk blouse sliding down her body, revealing full breasts barely contained by her black lace bra. Eric's large, warm, hands ran up her now-bare waist and back to easily unhook the band. Her breasts swung free as he whipped the bra off of her with surprising ease. Where had he learned to do that? And when?
Helen's cheeks flushed and her heart was pounding in her ears. She didn't remember it being like this before. There was something so intimate about being undressed by another. By a man. It had been so long... She turned her head away, afraid that her expression would give away her thoughts.
So she didn't see Eric drinking in her bare chest with hungry eyes. He took in every detail of her breasts, trembling in time with her shaky breaths, and the large nipples that emerged, pink, full, and puffy, from the thin white fur of her breasts. His hand clenched and unclenched for a moment, before he gently pushed her shoulders down towards the bed.
"I can't reach, mom, you're too small," he explained.
"You're too tall, you mean," Helen said with a little laugh. Did he hear the slight tremor in her voice? This feels strange. Should we really be doing this?
But Eric had already pushed her down into the mattress, was already lowering his head to her. It's too late to back out. It'll be fine. It won't be weird if we don't make it weird.
His warm breath grazed the side of her throat. She yelped as his tongue traced the side of her neck, sending another shiver running through her.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
Eric answered only with a wordless growl as his teeth found the soft flesh of her shoulders, biting softly. Each bite sent little butterflies fluttering through her. She tried to push him off, but found herself pinned under his muscular bulk.
"Eric?"
He trailed little licks and kisses along her shoulder blades, down her chest, and over the soft swell of her left breast. In spite of herself, her body responded to him. Her puffy nipples hardened and stood erect, impatient for his touch. But he made her wait, tracing little circles around her areola with his tongue, spiraling tantalizingly close before flicking away.
"Eric, honey, maybe we shouldn't..."
"Please mom? It's always been okay before," he pleaded plaintively.
It wasn't like this before. But her answer was cut off abruptly by a sharp gasp as his mouth finally closed around her waiting nipple. Her entire consciousness seemed focused on that single point. He sucked lightly at first, then more firmly, swirling his tongue around and around.
Helen panted. It was getting hard to think straight. But Eric had sounded so forlorn and hurt. Surely it wasn't that bad? I'm overthinking this, he just wants comfort. It'll be fine, I'm sure...
She would have been less sure if she could have seen the feral, satisfied, grin that flashed across his face at her next words.
"Alright, sweetie, but just for a bit."
As he nursed greedily, Eric's hand just barely grazed her other breast. Feather light, barely-there, touches that might have been completely accidental.
It's not like that. He doesn't see you that way. Don't overthink it, Helen.
Helen stroked her son's head gently, trying to focus on the feel of his satin-soft ears between her fingers instead of -
The warmth of his breath on her skin, the way his teeth grazed the sensitive nubs of her nipple, the way his fingers hovered over her skin almost, but not quite, touching her, until her body screamed for more.
Light-headed, Helen lost track of time as she lay under him. Panting breaths gave way to muffled whimpers. She bit her lips to hold back a moan. A warm, wetness soaked into her panties as she arched and strained to push her other breast into his hand, so tantalizingly close. This, at last, snapped her back to her senses..
What am I doing? This is my SON! Enough is enough.
Cupping his head Helen pulled Eric's face up to hers.
"Alright, baby, that's enough. We have to stop now."
"Just a little longer?" His hazel eyes were pleading, and his tail wagged hopefully behind him. Helen had always found it hard to say no to that puppy-dog expression. But this time she turned her head resolutely away.
"No, honey, we're done. Get off of me. Now, please."
"Are you sure?" His voice was different now. A little colder. Was he disappointed? She'd make it up to him. But they couldn't keep doing this. She realized that now.
"Yes, quite sure."
Eric sat up, freeing her upper body, though her legs were still trapped under him. He began to rummage around in the rumpled sheets. Helen propped herself up on one arm.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding your top. Here, it's all tangled. Let me sort it."
With the danger apparently averted, Helen slumped back onto the bed with relief while Eric fiddled with the garment. But instead of handing it to her, Eric abruptly clamped a large, strong hand over both of hers, and held them firmly over her head. The other hand was doing something with the blouse that she couldn't see. There was a sound of tearing fabric. Helen spluttered in surprise and alarm.
"Wh... What do you think you're doing, young man?" the words tumbled out of her mouth in what was meant to be a stern bark, but sounded more like an alarmed squeak.
Eric didn't reply. He sat back up to admire his handiwork. With complete shock, Helen realized that Eric had torn strips of silk to tie her hands to the ornate, wrought-iron headboard. She writhed desperately, trying to break free, but it was no use. Her wrists were bound so that she couldn't even get her claws into the fabric.
Desperately she looked to her son. He was straddling her, calmly undoing his own black mourning shirt. He looked down with an expression she had never seen before. There was a ferocity and a hunger at odds with his unhurried demeanor. It sent a prickle of fear down her spine. She had to snap him out of whatever was going on with him.
"Eric Anderson McCa.."
"That's my name," he interrupted her, his voice strangely serene as he shrugged out of his shirt to reveal an athletic, leanly muscled body. Little beads of sweat glistened on his grey fur. "And I'm really going to enjoy making you scream it."
She could see the tension in his broad, muscular shoulders and his long, lean arms. They were like coiled springs, waiting for release.
"Baby, why?" she pleaded, no longer able to keep the panic out of her voice as he pressed his bare chest against hers. She could feel the heat of his skin against her breasts, the firmness of his abs against her own soft, yielding, belly.
"You let Ralph do it," he growled in her ear with a bitterness that surprised her. "You chose him, longed for him, even after the way he you."
"You mean your Dad? Honey, I know it must have been hard to find out that he.."
"I always knew," he almost snarled. "_Everyone _knew. Even you. But you looked the other way and kept going back to him. Even when he kept you from me"
His hands were on her body again, but not so gentle this time. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading them firmly. The thumbs grazed her nipples, teasing them until they stood up at attention, begging for more.
Helen's stomach sank. She thought she had been doing what was best, staying in the marriage for her son's sake. Had she been hurting him all along instead? She needed to make things right, but it was hard to think with over the pounding of her heart. His canines sank into her neck. This time, the bite was hard enough that it would leave a mark.
"Baby, please, your father.."
"Ralph was nothing to me," Eric interrupted, sounding wilder and more feral than Helen had ever heard him. He forcibly turned her head so that they were nose to nose. His eyes filled her entire vision. They burned.
"I'm glad he's dead. He kept you from me. But you're mine."
Helen's head was reeling from Eric's onslaught, both physical and emotional.
"Honey, no. We can't.."
Eric cut her off by crushing her lips with his own. She struggled to turn her head away, but his grip was like a vice. His scent, strong, musky, and unmistakably masculine, flooded her. His tongue invaded her mouth, hungry and demanding. Helen didn't know what was more humiliating - being violated like this by her own son, or the fact that her traitorous body, so long deprived, responded to the violation with such ready eagerness. Against her will, her own tongue twined impatiently around his. She burned where he touched her.
"Please," she whimpered, when he finally broke the kiss, "Don't do this. I don't want.."
"Don't you?" he murmured against her skin.
"No! Of course not! I'm your mother!" she said between panting breaths, "You're my son! We can't.. Ah!" she yelped as he nipped her again, on her breast this time.
"Are you sure?" There was a hint of gentle mockery in his tone, as well as a certain air of arrogance. Who was this person? Eric, her sweet, gentle, Eric, had never spoken to her like this.
"Of course I'm sure!"
He chuckled at her, which irritated Helen immensely. Where did he get off treating her like some... some.. well, like just some female, instead of his mother?
"You say that," Eric said with a grin that was all teeth, "but that kiss said otherwise. And this..." he lowered his mouth back down to her chest and slid his tongue over one eager nipple in one, quick swipe. Helen moaned as her back arched upwards, trying to follow his retreating mouth, "says otherwise. And this..."
He ran his tongue down the length of her body belly as his hands yanked the hem of her sensible black skirt up over her hips. She cried out, clamping her legs - clad in black pantyhose - tightly together. But Eric's powerful arms pulled them apart easily. He buried his snout firmly in her damp crotch, inhaling deeply.
"This here," he continued, his mouth pressed against the fabric so that every word sent vibrations shuddering through her, "definitely says otherwise."
She whimpered, struggling ineffectually against him as he dug his claws into the filmy nylon pantyhose and shredded it to ribbons. Still holding her thighs wide apart, Eric nosed at her panty-covered mound. A few square inches of fabric was all that separated him from her bare, quivering, womanhood.
"You smell delicious," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Want to see?"
He sank his teeth into the thin panties, the points just barely grazing her folds. The touch set her pussy afire.
With a sudden, violent, jerk of his head, Eric ripped the panties away, leaving her bare and exposed. If he wanted to take her, there was nothing to stop him. But the worst was that, as she looked at him, her panties dangling from his jaws, his eyes ablaze with lust, a part of Helen didn't want to stop him. Part of her, long neglected, saw only a male who could satisfy her in ways that she had never been satisfied before. Helen burned with shame at her own naked, smoldering, lust.
Eric took the panties, fragrant with her juices, and held them before her nose.
"No," Helen whimpered and turned her head away. She didn't want to smell the proof of her perverse desire for her own son. But Eric clamped it down over her face and nose.
"Breathe deep," A gentle, but unmistakable, command. Helen had no choice but to comply. It smelled like pure, unadulterated sex. The scent of a slut.
"You see, you do want this."
Helen shook her head and started to protest. But Eric silenced her again. This time by cramming the wadded panties all the way into her mouth so that she was gagged by her own soiled underwear. With her hands tied, Helen had no way to remove them. The smell and taste of her own arousal filled her nose and mouth completely.
The aroma was starting to make Helen feel dizzy as Eric moved back down between her legs. He kissed her soft, milky thighs, moving slowly despite his barely controlled urgency. He licked and nipped her inner thighs, working slowly up towards her now fully exposed sex. She trembled and flinched at every touch.
Helen was suddenly jolted as upright as her restraints would let her as Eric's tongue found her asshole. She could feel her puckered hole clenching and spasming as this warm, slippery tongue swirled around it.
"You really like that, don't you?" Eric chuckled, slipping a two finger into her tail hole, all slippery with his spit and the juices dripping down from her pussy.
Helen couldn't speak, so shook her head "No." But the way her body clamped down on and sucked in his fingers contradicted her.
"You're a little butt slut, aren't you, Mom?" he said, slowly moving his fingers in and out, "I knew you would be."
She had never been touched here before. Nor had she ever wanted it. It was dirty - disgusting! Yet Helen's hips moved in time to his fingers. She could feel her insides convulsing rhythmically around him. The sensations, along with the scent of sex that still filled her nostrils, seemed to put her almost into a trance of pleasure. Then, abruptly, Eric pulled his fingers out with a little plop, leaving her feeling empty and bereft. In spite of herself, she whimpered in protest. A thin, high-pitched, begging, sound.
Eric laughed and wagged a finger at her.. "Patience, patience, mommy,"
It felt strange to hear the word "mommy" on the lips of the man who was forcibly violating her. A man she barely recognized as her sweet, innocent son anymore. For some reason, the contradiction made the blood tingle and fizz in her veins.
"Don't worry, I'm going to break in all your holes in turn." His toothy grin made Helen's heart jump. "But first, there's something I've been craving for a long time."
Fingers moved to the slick, wet, folds of her pussy and pulled them apart, revealing her inner lips, pink and dripping. She was completely exposed now, unable to hide anything from Eric. Unable to deny her arousal as the warm, wet, hole of her vagina clenched and unclenched visibly, begging to be filled. Above it, her clit glistened like a plump, pink, little gem.
Eric paused for a moment, soaking in the sight. Seeing her own son observing in every crevice of her most intimate place, and knowing that he would see how much she wanted him, made Helen burn with shame and lust.
It felt like an eternity before he finally lowered his face to her. To Helen's immense embarrassment, she almost came at the first touch of his nose to her puffy outer lips. She shuddered and moaned as her body went rigid. Helen flushed with humiliation as Eric chuckled, amused.
Then he got to work in earnest. His tongue, wet, slippery and flexible, stroked the length of her slit from taint to clit with firm, slow strokes. Helen's hips rose to meet his mouth at every stroke. She could no more control it than she could control the moans and growls that came from her throat.
"Your tits don't have milk anymore," Eric's voice was muffled by her pink folds, "But this tastes just as good."
He grabbed her hips firmly, bruising the skin with his strength, and drove his face deeper into her. She felt his muzzle enter her hungry, wet, opening. His tongue lapped at her insides. It sent ripples of pleasure through her body. Unable to contain herself any longer, Helen wrapped her legs around him, while her hips ground against his face, pulling him further into her. It was as though she were trying to suck him, head-first, back into the hole from which he'd emerged.
She growled in frustration when Eric lifted his muzzle to breathe. If it weren't for the gag, she might have begged him not to stop.
"Shh.. It's okay. I'm here. I'll take care of you," he said softly. The same words she had always used to calm him as a child.
True to his word, Eric didn't leave her waiting. Two fingers slipped inside her wet, willing, pussy, and her muscles contracted gratefully around them, sucking them deeper inside her. He began to pump them slowly into the depth of her velvety folds. It wasn't enough. She whimpered and growled. The part of Helen that was still rational could only look on in horror as she mashed her hips into his hand, wanting more, wanting it harder and faster.
Eric smiled. He was enjoying watching his bound and helpless mother wriggle and squirm with frustrated sexual desire. Desire for him. After all these years of lusting for her, it was very satisfying. Her body flushed faintly pink through her pale fur. Her ears, nipples, and the tip of her little pink nose almost glowed with arousal. As, of course, did the thin, sparsely-furred skin around her dripping cunt.
He slid another finger in, and she groaned in satisfaction. Yes, that was better. Her hips moved faster and Eric obligingly increased his own pace, sliding them in further, and harder. The tips of his claws just barely scratched her inside, but the slight prickle of pain only added to the pleasure. Once Helen had adjusted to three fingers, he slid another one one. Now all four fingers were pumping rapidly in and out of her, while his thumb circled lazily around her clit, tantalizingly close. Her round blue eyes seemed to beg him to touch her clit, to finally give her release, but Eric just laughed.
"Not yet, Mom. Not until_ I _say so. Now, you think you can take the whole hand?"
Her round eyes widened as he slowly sank all five fingers into her, followed by the rest of his big, muscular hand.. "Too much!" She wanted to yell. "It's too full!" But the panties that still gagged her kept her from making any intelligible sounds. She could feel herself stretched tightly around his fist. It hurt! She whimpered. Eric laid his other hand on her belly, stroking her soothingly.
"It's okay, It'll be okay," he crooned.
Helen found it strange that, with everything else that was happening, this act of intimate familiarity could still make her heart flutter so wildly. But her thoughts dissolved away again when Erick began to push the knuckles of his fist into her walls. Slowly and rhythmically, he was kneading her insides, pressing into her g-spot and sending ripples of pleasure through her. He began to thrust his fist. She gave a muffled yelp. He was too big to move easily inside her. But as Eric continued to massage her with his knuckles, the pain and pleasure melded together, until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.
"Now move your hips."
A muffled mewl worked its way around Helen's gag. She didn't think she could move. As tight as she was stretched, she was sure it would tear something. But, though Eric's voice was gentle, his expression made it clear that he expected to be obeyed. Helen didn't dare do otherwise. Helen began to thrust slowly, whining softly at the discomfort.
"Good girl," said Eric approvingly. "Now, go faster."
Helen obediently did so, despite the protests of her tortured pussy. Her body ached where it was pulled tight around Eric's fist. And yet, the pleasure of his kneading, and the fear of displeasing him, kept her going. Helen's jaws were clenched, and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, but she went faster still. She couldn't help but cry a little, and the tears dribbling down her face as Eric's fist moved in time to her thrusting.
"Does it hurt?" Eric's voice was gentle and concerned, even as his fist mercilessly ravaged her womanhood. "It's for your own good, mom. My knot's even bigger, you know."
Helens' round eyes widened to perfect circles as that sank in. Could she even survive that? She yelled, the words incoherent and garbled, but the panic was clear. Eric never slowed his fisting as he shushed her.
"Shh... It's okay. You've been such a good girl, you deserve a reward. Would you like a reward, mom?"
Helen nodded, hoping that this meant he might give her a break. But he did no such thing. Instead, he lowered his mouth to her, and nosed at her clit. It was like a little tingle of electricity. For a moment it overwhelmed even the pain. When he pulled away, she whined beseechingly. Eric saw with satisfaction that her clit stiffened and emerged from its hood, red, and engorged. His tongue began to lap at it, moving in time with his clenched hand inside her.
In response, Helen ground her crotch into his mouth. Ralph, the only other lover she'd ever had, had never eaten her out. It felt like nothing she could have imagined. Sheer pleasure that made her want more and more. Despite the throbbing agony of Eric's hand moving inside her, Helen's hips thrust eagerly towards his mouth, desperate for more of her beautiful son's beautiful tongue. The agony and ecstasy combined into an overwhelming sensation that blotted everything else out. It built inside her, tightening and coiling, until, inevitably, it exploded outward in waves of pure carnal pleasure. Helen's head rolled back, moaning and screaming, as her body shuddered in the grip of the strongest orgasm she had ever known. Her legs shook and and her bound arms trembled as her pussy spasmed around Eric's hand.
Only when the last tremor had died away did Eric stop his ministrations. Helen lay limp and exposed before him, her arms still bound to the bed, her clothes torn away, and her cunt gaping invitingly between widely splayed legs. He ran his hands over her body possessively, knowing no one could stop him. Helen didn't protest. She was almost passed out with post orgasmic bliss. He could have taken her right then, but he wanted her to be fully aware for what was coming next.
Because this was just the beginning, the thought, as he began to undo his pants. Of course, when she came to, she might regret what they'd just done. She might even fight it. Eric rather hoped she would. She was so cute when she tried to resist. And it would make it so much more satisfying when, inevitably, she submitted to him again.