An adult stories – Destiny's Child Ch. 02 – The Conclusion by Drvn2madness,Drvn2madness I suppose it’s funny that a young man of twenty believes, without a doubt, that he knows all the answers. Is it any wonder then, that when faced with an inconceivable outcome, he acts upon it to alter the predetermined fate.
As you can guess, things did not unfold as my parents had planned. Instead of heading to the first university, I headed to the airport. When mom realized this, she asked me what I was doing, and I told her, “The idea of me going to school and leaving her behind was not going to happen,” and for that, I got one of those ‘ahhhhs’ which spoke of endearment.
“Since visiting places I wouldn’t consider, was a waste of time, I booked a last-minute vacation at a resort in the Dominican Republic.”
Another, “Ahhhh.”
There was excitement in her, as I explained we would have five days, four nights, with no rules, or the need to hide. We would finally be able to be like regular adults, have date nights, couples experiences and express our love openly.
She held my hand in her own; it was warm, soft, and made me feel important.
I chose to park close to the terminal, knowing that it would cost more, but also aware that besides gaining protection from the elements in the multi-level structure, I had a chance for a quickie, pre-flight. See I had it all worked out. I parked and started to collect the stuff, and once I was on mom’s side of the car, I asked if she grabbed the sunscreen.
Knowing she hadn’t, since I actually didn’t purchase any, I waited for the inevitable, “Honey, I can’t find it.”
“Try the center console,” I urged, as I moved into position. Then, in one quick motion, I ran a hand under her skirt. The first touch had her falling over, but when I reached her panties, she began to struggle back.
“Come on, mom,” I urged. “I just want a tiny taste.”
“Desmond Anthony Hargreaves,” she began, and I knew using my full name was the ‘I mean business’ tone, but I still managed one solid lick. She seemed for a moment to falter, as her body jerked and slipped a bit deeper in the car, so I licked again.
“Desmond,” came the next plea, but this one didn’t have much command behind it.
On the third lick, I began inching a finger inside, and the response was, “Oh you,” before it strangled off into a kind of gurgled moan.
It was easier now, as her body accommodated my advances. There was no struggle to stop me from licking and probing, and her thighs began to run with signs of excitement. One knee rose up to rest upon the seat, giving this glorious artistic pose of flashing stockings, heels and panties. I wanted a picture, but couldn’t risk stopping, so I licked faster and added a second finger.
Suddenly, a sweet long, “Ohhh, fuck me, baby,” escaped her lips, and I was already prepared.
My other hand had released and was stroking my cock, so on hearing the urgings, it moved up and sank inside. Even from this short tease, I could feel the shaking in her legs, but I didn’t let it overly distract me.
Long, slow strokes sank again and again, until the air was filled with, “Oh baby. Oh, fuck me. Oh, fuck me, baby.” So, I sped up.
Now the sweet sound of, “Oh Desmond, you’re going to make mommy cum, baby. Faster, faster.”
I teased her with a little, “So should I stop, then?”
“If you do, I’ll cut it off and finish myself.” (I smile every time I recall that answer.)
It was no more than a dozen strokes though, before she screamed out, “YES!”
Then she calmed enough that they couldn’t hear her in Alaska. I knew I wanted to finish, but was also aware that if I kept it up, we’d have no energy to get to the plane. So I slowed, until just heavy panting remained, then pulled out and put my equipment away.
As I pulled mom out of the car, and slowly escorted her through the terminal, I asked if she felt better. And I got a very satisfying, if somewhat dreamy, “Mmm-hmm.”
On the plane itself, I asked mom if she was ready for this. She smiled, saying it was the nicest gift anyone had ever gotten her. I explained that I intended to take her dancing, horseback riding, scuba diving, and to literally rock her world. Suddenly, a memory flashback reminded me of those very words and how that turned out.
I struggled with that, but it was quickly swept away, when she simply said, “You already have.”
She kissed me there at thirty-five-thousand feet and I melted into it, but a stewardess came by and asked if we’d like a drink. Mom said she would have a gin and tonic and I said I didn’t need alcohol to dull my senses, then pretended to tickle mom.
The stewardess laughed, a kind of fake laugh, I thought, then she asked, “So cute, have you been married long?”
Mom instantly piped in, “Forty-seven days,” and I looked at her smiling from ear to ear.
In my head, I did the calculations, and replied, “You remembered.” For it had, indeed, been forty-seven days since the police officer unofficially proclaimed us to be husband and wife.
“I guess that makes this our honeymoon,” I offered, with a raised playful eyebrow.
To which she offered, “Hope you remembered to pack the resuscitation kit, then.”
I watched as she used the hem of her skirt as a fan, feigning overheating, and how the garter clasps winked in and out of sight. I knew she had done it purposefully and said nothing.
Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of me with a drink. Naturally, it was the stewardess who I had forgotten all about, and as she handed over the drink, she smiled and winked.
I want to say this evolved into a wild inflight free-for-all, but mostly, we talked and just enjoyed the moment. Part of the conversation, though, was that she had written to the young man from the DNA site again, but sadly he had not written back. She wondered why and asked if I might offer any insight, since I was just about his age.
Let me tell you, it is hard to play both sides of the field and I really wanted to come clean, but forever in my mind rested the thought, that if she knew the truth, everything would change. In the end, I decided to tell her that perhaps it was hard to accept that everything you knew was wrong. That he may need time to accept his destiny – to which mom let out a tiny chuckle.
I guess I had a questioning look because she explained that after he was gone, she couldn’t face the world, the reporters, or the infamy, so she changed her name to Delores. She was born though Destiny, and my saying he needed time to accept destiny, just seemed humorous.
I tried to act all wise and mature, telling her, there really weren’t a lot of choices here. She could continue to write to the young man, in the hopes he would eventually respond, or she could try to give him time. She always knew she wanted him in her life, but he only had a few months to even process this. She had fifteen years of looking, and he had only two months of learning his fate.
At this point, mom interrupted, saying, “What do you mean fifteen years?”
I responded, “Well figuring a high-school crush and sex on prom night, that would have made you eighteen. Add to it nine months gestation that brings you closer to nineteen. Subtract that from your age of thirty-four and you have a son who is fifteen. I knew, of course, this was wrong, but sometimes it is best to play oblivious than shine a light on the truth.
Mom, though, chuckled and said, “That’s pretty good, and almost right. My son is actually nineteen not fifteen, and it was junior prom not senior.
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In case there are any nitpickers out there, let me say I know I am supposed to be twenty, but remember doctors had to guess my age and only mom knew my actual birthday.
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“So DNA results come back and say you are the mother, but if his life is to be believed, that means either his or your results were mixed up, you were wrong about who the father was, or he was inadvertently switched at birth.
“If he thinks beyond that, and outright believes your version, then his parents are kidnappers, purchasers of a child on the black market, or adopters, which, in the latter case, means he was stolen – most likely abused, found, could not be identified, and reclassified to be available in the adoption system. Since it was so publicly reported, that means he likely was transported out of state; otherwise, the connection once he’d been found would have been tested and reviewed.
“Simply put – you laid in his lap a conundrum. If he follows up with you, he puts his family or himself at risk of jail or worse. If he were to ask his mom or dad and they were guilty of such a horrendous crime, what would they do to keep the story quiet? If they were not guilty, how do they explain not telling him of his adoption after nineteen years? Surely, it was going to come out and the longer they waited, the more rebellious his reaction.
“There is a chance you might never know him, but no matter how life unfolded from this point on, at least you had a measure of closure. You now knew he had a life, which didn’t have to be the case. Sure you were not a part of it, but there is comfort knowing he had at least lived, and was continuing to do so.”
Mom kissed me after that, thanked me for the wisdom of my words and for being her rock to lean upon. It gave her a lot to think about, and even some idea of the struggles he must now be faced with. She snuggled up and hugged me tightly saying, “You have such a beautiful, romantic mind; I am glad you are my husband.”
There was a long moment of silence, before mom spoke again. “Des, can I ask you something?”
“Sure mom, anything.”
“Should I stay married to your father?”
Wow! I mean WOW! How the hell was I supposed to answer that?
I guess I was silent for a long time because mom started to speak again. “I know it’s a hard question, Des, but I have been thinking about it a lot. I mean I thought I loved him, but then you grew up and you changed everything. At first, I thought it was just because you kinda look like my high-school sweetheart, but I know it’s more. Every moment I get to spend with you, feels right. And every time I am with your dad, I feel like I am cheating on you and it breaks my heart. I want to be just yours, Des.”
I took a long breath then said, “Mom, I can’t tell you what to do. All I can say is trust yourself. No matter what, I will try and be with you as your son, a lover, and ultimately as your partner. I don’t really care what others think of our relationship because these are my feelings and my life, so only I can say what is right for me.
“There is a kind of thrill at taking you, my own personal forbidden fruit, but I love you unconditionally. You obviously know I like the risks of potentially getting caught, and sure I struggle with dad getting to see you naked or being with you, but those are my issues. I wouldn’t trade what I have for the world, but I can’t pretend I don’t think of what it would be like if you were my wife.”
Mom was quiet for a while, then simply said, “I love you.” She seemed to nestle in closer if that were even possible, and I watched as her legs curled up under her. Amazingly, a few minutes later, mom had fallen asleep.
A while later, the stewardess came by and smiled, as she saw mom all curled up against me. Oddly enough, she paused beside me to ask if there was anything she could get me, and I jokingly said, “Feeling in my right arm would be nice, but I’ll wait until food is served.”
Moments later, she returned with a coke and a blanket. As she handed me the coke and began unfolding the blanket, I said, “I didn’t order these,” but she patted my free arm and bent over me provocatively to arrange the blanket on mom.
“I know, hon,” came her soft response, “but sometimes, we don’t really know what we want.”
I felt the heat as her thigh pressed against my leg and from the hand resting on my shoulder for balance, as she leaned to adjust the blanket on mom. I would have helped, but with mom on my shoulder and the other hand filled with an unwanted drink I was trapped.
All I could really see was her tight uniform bent before me, with its lithe curves and haunting scent. As her task was completed and she rose up, her support hand glided down my shoulder to my bicep, where it gave a near imperceptible squeeze.
“Food will be served in about an hour, hon,” was all she said, then disappeared down the aisle behind me.
Later when lunch arrived, and mom woke up, she smiled and thanked me for the blanket. I told her that was all the stewardess, who by the way, was acting very peculiar. I explained what happened and my impressions. Mom laughed, saying, “Maybe you should sit by the window for protection.”
After lunch, mom excused herself for the bathroom, but moments later, the stewardess was back asking if everything was to my liking. Sure, I noticed that the top three buttons of her uniform were now open, and how she leaned slightly in, as though having a quiet private conversation. But in my distraction of looking, her thigh once again pressed against my leg.
My eyes could not help but look down at the contact and as my head rose to respond, mom interrupted saying, “Hon, how about you take the window seat for a while.”
The stewardess seemed to jump, as she straightened up and backed away, but mom stood there in the aisle staring her down, until she was out of sight in the galley.
Once in place, mom curled up, leaned against my other arm and smiled widely.
“How about a movie?” she asked.
To which I smiled, and said, “Sure.”
As I was scanning through the options, mom said, “So, she’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”
I looked at mom anxiously awaiting my response, and replied, “Sure, she’s okay, but she doesn’t hold a candle to you.” Mom hugged me, as though that were the right answer, but honestly, it was my truth. Nobody from school, work, or life… ever had, what mom had.
As the movie started, we shared a headset, and mom arranged the blanket, asking if it was okay. As justification for this, she said it’s kinda nice and the plane is cool. Me, I was comfortable pre-blanket, but if it made her happy, why not.
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before mom’s hand under the blanket, began stroking my cock through my jeans. My immediate reaction was to jump slightly, then look about nervously, but mom just shifted tactics.
She began a systematic, very light tracing, as though she were drawing and shading my cock with a single finger. I could feel it swelling, hungry, anxious and begging for release. Soon enough, mom’s fingers worked open the zipper, then stole inside to grasp, and stroke and pull on her desire.
A moment later, it was free of both my underwear and pants, and the small ring of her forefinger and thumb attempted to encircle it. They glided with practised skill up and down, moulding to the surface until a second, then third finger joined the play. For a moment, they paused just under the head and squeezed before the forefinger caressed over the top, to coat itself in the sweet viscous pre-cum.
She used the new slippery coating to increase stimulation, especially at the helmet’s rim by rotating her slick fingers under the head in a half twist, before vanishing again back to the cock’s base. Mom seemed intimately aware of just how much I could take though, for time and again, she paused just as I wanted to find release.
I tried distracting her in one of those moments, by stroking her breast through the light material of her blouse, and discovered she had removed her bra at some point and I had not noticed. I felt the over-sensitive nipple, which fired a spasming jolt through her and a leg dropped from the seat. Then before I could build up another, mom pulled back the blanket and swallowed me whole.
The timing and speed were unmatched, yet it was the warm, moist, pressure-filled chamber that truly set me off. Mom’s tongue flattened inside to drag along the shaft, as it slowly moved in and out, and I felt, more than noticed, she had covered her head with the blanket.
She teased and tormented my desires in a slow, meticulous way that I presumed was to keep any slurping sounds at bay, but who truly knew. All I could say was when the end came, it felt like mom had swallowed the entire thing and I was spitting hot cum down her throat.
She was slow to release her prize, too; for long after the hard jerking spasms left, she was still caressing the shaft with her tongue and fingers.
I want to say I reciprocated, but mom was a sly one and held me at bay, until we landed. Yet, I can add one more tiny detail to this recounting. As we prepared to de-plane, I slipped a hand under mom’s skirt, as she reached in the overhead bin for her luggage. Not only had she lost her bra, but her panties had vanished, too.
From the airport, we went to the resort by transfer van, a small vehicle which handled eight passengers, the driver and luggage. As it turned out, mom and I were cramped into the back row with the luggage, but I for one was thankful. I checked out the passengers and driver in front of me, then looked at mom and placed a hand upon her thigh. Moments later, I moved it up until her hand stopped me, at the hem of her dress. I smiled a soft knowing smile, and returned it to her knee, then tried again.
I didn’t know how long this transfer would take, but I didn’t care, I knew what I wanted. Time and again my hand moved up to the hem and was blocked, so it retreated, yet I sensed some weakness and I continued.
Slowly, mom’s will vanished, and I was permitted the bare flesh above her stockings. My fingers rolled inside, deeper between the thighs, and ultimately made contact. Her pussy parted for my fingers, she was biting her lip, and placed her purse between my hand and potential observers. I felt the hard bud of her clit, and began stroking around it, as her thighs squirmed, but then, as I attempted to slip inside, the van turned into our destination.
We checked in, and made it as far as the room interior, before mom grabbed me and literally threw me on the bed. There was no time to remove clothes, she just took me out, straddled me and rode me for all she was worth.
Screaming “Fuck me baby. Oh my God, you made mommy so wet. Come on baby fuck me, make mommy come. Oh fuck yes like that, like that. Oh my God yes baby!” Then she collapsed on top of me panting and shaking.
My cock and hips kept stroking in and out, although this change in angle meant it wasn’t as deep, or as forceful. I could feel her heart beating, and her breath upon my neck, but I held her close and just kept going. After a short interlude, a new moan escaped her lips, and my cock seemed to swell with pride.
“Baby,” she began “ohhhhh”
My speed increased a tiny bit, and her hips rolled down, sinking my cock in deeper
“I want that sweet seed inside me, baby.”
I kept going. I could feel the intensity growing, feel her body responding, and for just a moment I thrust as hard as I could. Suddenly her own hips wildly reacted, spasming to drive it a tiny bit deeper, but unable to maintain a constant pressure it yo-yoed. The added sensation set me off, and as I started cumming, my hips renewed their thrusting, as fast as I could.
Suddenly she was screaming “Oh fuck baby – I’m cumming. I’m cumming again! Oh baby, fill mommy with that hot seed! Oh my God. Oh my God… Babyyyyyy”
Finally the sensation seemed too much, for she rolled off me, and I could visibly see spasms in muscles around her stomach and legs. She held both her breasts, squeezing them softly through her blouse, while her lips panted out breathlessly.
Ever so slowly, the symptoms seemed to subside, and as we lay in each other’s arms I asked “So do you need the resuscitation kit yet?”
She laughed and hit me square in the chest with her hand saying “You”
I kissed her once then added “Maybe now we should close the door?”
I watched as her head rose to look, then briefly at me, before asking “Did you know the whole time?”
Without waiting for an answer she grabbed a pillow and pretended to hide her head in embarrassment.
My God I love her!
After we sufficiently recovered (closed the door) and cleaned up we went shopping because mom needed a bikini (my idea) and perhaps a few sundresses. Shopping was so much fun, too. Mom would try on various things, and I would get to comment on the fit around breasts, waistline or rump, while using my hands (to explain) which I knew was driving her crazy, and it was so cute when she blushed or squirmed.
We finally found a super-hot bikini and a nice little wraparound bikini skirt, so when we walked along the beach, hand in hand, guys would turn to watch. God, it made me feel great.
After dinner, we went dancing at one of the resort’s clubs, where I got to hold and feel her from all sorts of angles and places. More than once, other guys tried to have a turn, but she’d quickly turn them all down, occasionally putting on a kind of dirty dancing routine. She seemed to take great pleasure in rubbing up against me, flashing thighs and grinding away; especially, if the invitation was rude or aggressive. I guessed she really wanted to show them what they were missing, but it only took a few of those before she was asking to leave.
Back at our suite, mom was literally so worked up, I couldn’t get the door open. She started by kissing me, before I could get the card in the reader. Then she pinned me against the door handle, as her hands explored my chest, pushing my shirt up as she went.
Soon her tongue followed, flicking almost innocently at my aching nipples, but I was sure she knew what it was doing to me inside. Her hands were trying to unbuckle my belt, and I knew it was time to regain control.
I waited until the belt was unfastened, then spun her quickly around, scooping her hair to the side, so my lips could attack her exposed neck. A gasp seemed to echo down the hall, but I am fairly sure that was imagined.
Next, I began grinding the bulge of my hard cock into her ass, and she responded as I had hoped, by thrusting back at me. Acting quickly, I grasped both her arms and glided my hands in a soft caressing motion towards her wrists – all while maintaining that all-important grind. Soon enough, both her hands were behind her, and I shifted so they both could be held lightly by one of my own.
With my free hand, I circled her waist, then darted up to the far-side, full, braless breast. She gasped, as I tugged upon the nipple, but didn’t try to stop me; instead, asking, “Is baby going to fuck his mommy?”
I shifted to the other breast in response, until she was panting her desires, but then I slid it away as though teasing. I am not sure what she suspected next, but in one smooth motion, I pulled my belt free and brought it up to her hands. I don’t think she even realized what was happening, until it was too late.
The loop of the belt slid over her hands then tightened. There was a small struggle and a, “Hey, no fair,” as I wrapped several loops between the captured hands, then stuffed the tail inside a loop and tightened.
“Fair,” I repeated. “Was it fair on the plane?”
Just then, a couple turned the corner and saw mom pressed up against the door with bound hands. I quickly said, “It’s ok okay, she’s just been bad and required discipline.” The couple looked at each other, then at mom and finally back to me, before retreating back out of sight.
Both mom and I chuckled.
With hands bound and my audience lost, I gave one sharp pat on her butt before asking, “Are you ready to behave?”
But mom was devilish and fast. All of the sudden, she sidestepped then spun around behind me. She used her motion and weight to push me back against the door, then kissed me.
I fumbled with the card, heard the beep then turned the handle so we both tumbled into our suite. Mom laughed, such a wonderful rejuvenating sound, and I caught her before the floor rose up to inflict its punishment.
Moments later, mom kicked the door closed, as I crawled between splayed thighs and bought back my virtue, which she had stolen on the plane. With tongue and hands, I ravaged her, and soon her breathing and vocal appreciation filled the air.
I thought I heard a knock, but mom was screaming, “Don’t stop! Fuck me, baby!” and my imagination had been playing tricks on me, so I ignored it and obliged mom.
As my cock penetrated the heavenly gates, a beep on the other side of the door had me cocking my head for I knew it to be a radio transmit sound. Mom’s hips thrust wildly and then I heard the voice on the other side of the door clearly say, “Base, it’s Swanson. False alarm on the domestic abuse. Seems like a little overzealous pre-coitus, over.”
There was a muffled, staticky response, before the voice said, “Coitus, dumbass! He’s feeding her the ole sausage and judging from her encouragement, she is heaven bound, over.”
I’ll admit I smiled, from ear to ear, hearing that, and refocused my efforts into ensuring he was right. My hips thrusted, in long, hard strokes, as my hands tugged on her hips.
She was screaming out, “Oh fuck, baby, yes! Don’t stop… I am so close. Oh my God…Yes, fuck me, baby! Make mommy cum!” and then I stopped.
I pulled completely out and laid my throbbing cock over her pussy. Mom’s arms were struggling, her hips thrusting and her lips screaming, “No baby… Please put it back inside!”
A hand came free, then the other still entwined in my belt. She grabbed me by the ears and dragged me to her lips.
I gave in.
I felt my cock slide down and inside and then her hips grinding against me. It was so deep, but she wouldn’t let go. Faster and faster, her hips circled, forcing the tip of my cock to swell and when it exploded, she let me go and arched her back.
She was screaming, “Yes! Oh, fuck yes!” even as her back arched off the floor. Then new words filled the air, as her hips began moving again. “Don’t you quit on me! Oh baby – that’s it! Oh my God, it feels so good! Oh baby, fuck yessss!”
There it was! That moment of indescribable satisfaction, as her body lost control. All around me, it felt like an earthquake, trembling thighs, vibrating vagina, spasming body; all coated in a beautiful, sweat-filled glow.
As the sensations began to subside, I leaned in and kissed her, and she whispered in my ear, “That wasn’t fair, but damn, you sure know how to make me forgive you.”
There were several minutes of just laying there on the floor at the door of our suite, before either of us worked up the energy to move. When we did, we moved not to the bed but to the shower, and it took a moment to find a perfect temperature.
As the water did its thing, we stepped inside and took turns removing each other’s pieces of clothing. It was a sweet, slow, erotic, pre-dance and if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend it. Fingers got to caress and manipulate buttons, clasps, straps, all while revealing the precious treasures beneath. Heavy, wet clothes clung and accentuated the bodies beneath, begging further exploration and you got to be as fast or slow as you desired. The feeling as you navigated the clothes off, or around body parts, spoke volumes and let me tell you, there is was no sweeter sense than knowing all this was just a precursor to desire.
When at last we were naked, then came the soapy exploits. Each of us taking turns lathering up the other. Taunting, teasing and pushing the boundaries of limitations, before the tipping point. We both knew it was there, and it became almost game-like, striving to push the other into surrender.
I am proud to say mom won out, although in a game of love there are were no losers. I felt though she may have cheated, for her tactic was to soap her inner thighs, slip my semi-hard cock between them from behind, clamp them closed, then rock back and forth. She claimed it was fair because in her actions, she was ‘washing’ my cock, and there had been no predetermined rule stating it must be by hand alone.
As the sensations built and my cock became fully erect, I couldn’t help it and began thrusting on my own. The sensations exploded through me, as the slippery, tight space felt amazing. It was unlike making love, but just as deeply stimulating.
Soon enough, my hands filled with her soapy breasts, making them glide and resist capture as her first moan escaped. Moments later, I felt her fingers dance over the head of my cock, as it penetrated through to the front and then with a tiny, timed squeeze, they forced my cock inside.
Almost immediately, mom screamed she was cumming and her sweet body seemed to clamp and suck at the slippery invader. Her breasts flattened themselves against the shower wall seeking any support she could find to remain standing, then her thighs parted and she began driving me in and out hard.
In response, my hands gripped her hips and aided the motion, as I strived to be as deep as possible on each stroke.
Even as I started to feel the sensations of my own orgasm, mom suddenly stopped. My enthusiasm in matching her strokes was shocked and on that first backstroke, I pulled free.
I truly believe mom had it planned though, for she spun, sank to her knees, and placed the cock against her chest. With both hands she squeezed her breasts together and looked up.
“Don’t stop, baby,” she urged. The soapy slipperiness made the task easy. Similar to the sensation of sliding between her slippery thighs, yet different, too.
Now, with the long strokes up, mom’s tongue would dart out and lap at the invading head as it poked up between her luscious breasts. I had already been so close, that the torturous stimulation combined with the nestled cavern of her breasts, soon had me spurting cum. It was wild and wonderful and might have looked like a tiny fountain spraying her face and tits, had it not been for the shower’s torrents gobbling up the evidence and washing it away.
Later that same night, I learned almost all of the remaining details involving my adoption, although semantics might say purchase. You see, dear ole dad had visitors and their conversation was about me, well all of us lost children really.
I learned this because dad had insisted we maintain a security vigilance my whole life – locking doors, wary of visitors and unknown persons in our neighbourhood, the whole nine yards. Security had always been a huge issue with him; a kind of OCD mentality. So, as I grew up, I was taught the rules and made to follow them. Later, when motion sensor cameras became a thing, we upgraded and so, too, did our rules. So that any time I left the house, I activated my personal monitoring through the app.
Mostly, I tended to ignore them, though. Life was too short to worry about rabbits hopping past cameras and the like, but on this night, I was restless. And so it was that on this particular night I got notifications for the front door, rear door and central hallways all at nearly the same moment. Checking the feeds I saw the men, the guns and actively listened.
The guys were from the U.S. Marshal’s office. Apparently, there had been a breach in his witness protection identity and they were trying to determine if it needed to be re-issued. Unbeknownst to them, though, I was actually the cause of it, but based on the information disclosed, perhaps that was a lucky break.
In a nutshell, dad had a girlfriend or what he supposed was a girlfriend right up until she tried to blackmail him. She knew he was once a lieutenant for some crime kingpin, and that he was instrumental in kidnapping all the children from his boss right before said boss wound up in prison.
She went into detail about how said boss made money by arranging for rich folks to get their hands on newborns within a few days of their birth, and that through his contacts, said children were legally reported as born to the purchaser on a specific date.
She knew or claimed to have evidence proving dad was involved in the actual exchanges with said rich people, and likely had lists of who they were, how much they paid etc, so if he ever needed ‘a favour’, he would have it backed with his own supporting evidence. Within five minutes, though, of making that blackmail threat, U.S. Marshals arrived and arrested her, having the entire threat recorded from dad’s home security.
The Marshals added further details by asking how I was working out since dad had insisted on legal possession before turning state’s evidence. Dad responded better than he could have hoped and that his mom and I were currently touring universities for next semester. His biggest worry, though, was if someone was chasing down the adoption records, could his story and part in this be uncovered. The Marshals assured him that there was no worry, as I was never in the adoption system and the file reference number led directly back to them.
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What I don’t know, and it seems highly improbable that I could ever know, is why dad chose me amongst all the kids that passed through. Certainly, he would not have been involved in the initial kidnapping due to his intimate knowledge of the clients, but what made me the catalyst?
There is a romantic in me, though, that crafts a scenario much like I had when I first found out I was adopted. The scenario describes a moment at his wife’s deathbed, when he promises to find a son to carry on their name and live out their shared dream. I further imagined that on finding said child, his promise would be to absolve himself entirely from the business and, if possible, shut it down.
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The Marshals did, though, need to alert dad of another problem which had just been discovered. They knew someone had started looking into all of the children and presumed, at first, it had to be the boss since the only known players who were aware of the names were the boss, dad and the Marshal services.
Dad argued that it was impossible for the boss to be active, since he had been sent away to prison, but this is where things got serious. It turned out that the boss had been extradited back to Colombia to serve out his life term; however, an intern noted that the picture in their files did not match the pictures on record at the prison.
Somehow, using his money and a series of arranged accidents, the boss switched places with someone who is serving in his place. All of the transfer guards on both sides of the border had coincidentally died of natural or accidental means over the first two years after the transfer had apparently been made. Since these were all classified as accidental or natural deaths, nobody looked into them or linked their connections to the boss. The only one left who could possibly know anything was the prisoner himself and to accept a life term in a Colombian maximum security facility he either can’t or could never be made to talk.
The boss was in the wind as they say, but until just a few days ago, nobody even knew. Still because there had been no known sighting or activity from the boss and it’s been nineteen years, it is presumed both the original identity change and all information were safe.
The Marshals believe the internet searches for all of the children and the adoption records were likely made by the young lady and that more information could be gleaned once questioned. The real question remained of who was she? and where did she get her information?
I, of course, recognized her as dad’s drinking companion from the airport, which if you recall, had this clingy, intimate vibe and surmised she learned of dad’s past from his own drunken lips.
In the end, the Marshals left dad with a choice. He could let things stand or under the terms of dad’s witness protection, they could scrub his current record and reset him again in a different city with a different job and different identities. Of course, in the latter case, the family would have to know.
I sat there in the dark with just the soft glow of my phone and shut it off. Tomorrow would bring what it was destined to bring, and now I had a wife who needed me. I looked down upon mom so beautiful in the ambient light, and snuggled up against her. As though on cue, she, too, moulded herself to me, asleep and yet aware. I kissed her softly upon the neck then slept.
In the morning when I awoke, mom was not beside me. I looked about, only to find her standing on the patio, perfectly silhouetted by the Caribbean sunshine shining through her babydoll sundress. It reminded me how lucky I was, and I rose to tell her so.
As my hands filled with her warm, sensuous body, she turned to face me. We kissed and she pushed me down onto one of the patio loungers before straddling me, and rubbing my chest.
“So, mister,” she began, “what is the plan for today?”
“Well,” I said, putting my hands on her soft warm thighs. “I think…”
Her hips rolled ever so slowly, distracting me.
“I think,” I began again, “we should start with some breakfast.”
Putting her hands on my abs, mom slid back quickly and said, “My thoughts exactly.”
Next thing I knew, her mouth closed over my growing cock and she began licking and sucking.
I forgot what she was saying.
Popping up for just a second, she asked, “And what’s next?” before resuming her ministrations.
“Well, coffee, of course,” I offered.
And she smiled, as though that were exactly right. Lifting her head, she took a bid swig of her coffee then dipped again. This time when her mouth closed, the added heat from the coffee which she had just swallowed permeated every pore of my nerves, and my cock jerked wildly.
“Thennnn,” it was tough to talk with the stimulation, but I kept trying. “I was thinnnkinnng, we could take an off-road dune buggy tour with swimming and coffee staaaawps.”
Once more, she paused, saying, “Oh, more coffee,” then took another swig of her own and when her mouth closed, I exploded.
Mom slipped back up over my groin and I felt my cock enter her. It was so perfect. She was already super wet and, apparently, had no underwear under that dress. Her position allowed her to rock back and forth, making my cock dance inside, but the stimulation kept it hard and hungry.
Soon she was moving faster, rocking further and biting at her bottom lip. Her hands tried to play over my abs, but as the sensations built, she started concentrating more on her hips and the feelings inside.
I felt her nails dig into my stomach, as the last few strokes became desperate, hard and demanding; then suddenly, both hands flew up into her hair and her back arched. Mom’s hips no longer slid back and forth, but they ground into me, keeping my throbbing cock as deeply inside as she could.
I looked at my phone across the room, and realized this was yet another memory I would have to save internally, but honestly, wished I could have recorded.
One day slipped into the next, as though this were the life we were destined to live. We made love in the ocean off a rocky point, which was not easy due to the dragging pressure of waters between us. We kissed at six-hundred feet in a tandem parasail, and teased each other’s bodies while on a scuba adventure. We danced, laughed and enjoyed every moment as a couple in love.
The vacation went by far too fast quickly. One day led into the next, in a swirl of passion and love. I left behind my anger and worries; I lived for the moment as mom’s husband, solely dedicated to her.
My favourite moment happened on the third night, as we strolled the beach after sunset. We heard the distant music of some nightclub and kicked off our shoes to dance barefoot in the surf. Mom’s body pressed against mine, and I held her in a teddy bear’s hug, never wanting the moment to end.
As one song faded to another, I kissed her. Not mom, not Delores but Destiny – my Destiny. For a while, we rolled around in the surf, fully clothed, but that did not prevent exploration or intimacy.
At one point, I had all the buttons of her top open, but approaching laughter made us stop. Mom tied the loose ends of her shirt in a small bow which left a deep, inviting vee between her breasts, then I gathered up our shoes.
Together, hand in hand, we strolled back to the resort while occasionally intercepted by locals wanting to sell us this or that, but the only thing I wanted was in my left hand and destined for my bed.
I was happy that this was one of the few moments I did capture on my phone. Mom standing in the surf, hard nipples poking through the wet fabric and the deep vee showing the provocative swells of her breasts. Sweet, sensuous, wet thighs glistening in the moonlight, with tiny rivulets of the ocean chasing each other down her calves.
When we landed back home, we were greeted at the airport by two plain-clothes police officers. Apparently, they had a hard time tracking us down since we were supposed to be touring universities and it was only the day before, that they discovered we had left the country.
That statement instantly made me curious and skeptical, so I played it coy and let them do the talking. It seemed that on the second night after we had left, our house burned to the ground and poor dad didn’t make it out. It was deemed a gas-leak explosion caused the total destruction, leaving nothing left of our old lives but memories.
Naturally, given the information I held and the vagueness of the evidence, I believe dad bailed. His decision turned out to be a reset, but instead of including his family, he opted to do it alone. The biggest tell for me was the police knowing we were supposed to be touring universities, as the plans had been made the night before we left and if everything burned, who else (except the U.S. Marshals) could have known.
I can imagine in dad’s mind, the thoughts that he wanted a son and got one. He raised him from a child to adulthood, so his job was basically done. He was already cheating on mom, so he wasn’t happy in his marriage and this reset gave him a new life. Certainly there might be sadness and regret at having to leave your child but it was ultimately for the best.
I also knew there would be no way for the old boss to now track me, since there was no real adoption record and the applicable documentation was burned.
In the end, though, we were okay. Mom received insurance coverage on the house and car, plus the income from the sale of dad’s business (which was dictated in the will) and I received a handsome cheque as the beneficiary of his life insurance.
So with everything neatly tied up, I am still faced with the original problem. Do I tell mom? I understand, though, faced with my dilemma, why dad, in particular, and parents, in general, don’t always tell their children about being adopted. This helped me let go of the anger and forgive him.
I am also grateful that he was there to rescue me, and will proudly carry his name into the future, even though it was, and is not, his name.
I have one final thought that perhaps most will not, now or ever, understand. With dad ‘dead’ I am legally allowed to marry my mom; however, only in my own head is the truth known that this would never be ‘legal’.
You see a mom is always a mom, be it by birth, adoption or addition, yet legally, a son cannot marry his mom if they are blood related. As a stepmom I can, but knowing in my heart and head, that she is my birth mom, such an action would always leave a bitter taste.