Destroy This Disc Ch. 02

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Author’s Note: I intended to tell my story in two parts with the possibility of an epilogue. After reading comments on part one I think I should include the epilogue as a part three. So thank you (almost) everyone for the feedback.

(Part 2 of 3)

When I found that encrypted USB in my late parent’s safe deposit box it was like finding a treasure. But treasures don’t always work out so good for the lucky finder. In my case it led to an unhealthy obsession with the one person I should never have fallen for, my own mother. I had been on the verge of confronting that obsession when I found a second encrypted volume hidden inside the first.

The second volume was all video files. Since the first volume was filled with pornographic galleries I assumed this would be similar material. My poor prick was sore from the beating it endured over the past few months. Looked like it would have to endure a little more. AsI would soon learn, my days of jacking off to Mom’s pictures were pretty much over.

The earliest videos were art films, the weird, pointless short films professors show you in college and act like they make sense. I know Mom studied film among other things in college so this must be her own work. The videos were sexy, or I should say sexual. True, they featured attractive actors in erotic situations. But the creep factor prevented me from finding any of it appealing.

There was one that would have been sexy if Mom wasn’t in it. The video began with a title board that read “SUNSTROKE”. The scene was sunny and sandy. Twangy surf music played in the background. Mom was wearing an old-style bikini, lying on a deck chair with her feet pointed toward the camera. She looked yummy and, as usual, I felt both aroused at the thought of her and disgusted with myself for being aroused. As usual, arousal won out and I prepared myself for what I thought would be a pleasant wank.

A man entered the scene, young and fit. Without a word he opened a bottle of tanning oil and squirted a great deal on her back. She had no reaction as he began rubbing it into her back and shoulders. I was a little uncomfortable because in the first volume it was only my father who appeared in scenes with her so who the fuck was this guy? Another man appeared on her other side and he also had a bottle of tanning oil. He squirted a great deal across the backs of her legs and started rubbing it in. The guys were laughing and enjoying themselves. What the fuck was this all about?

Then a girl appeared, young and fit, also armed with a bottle of oil. She gave my mother a squirt and the first guy gave her another. Then all three were rubbing her back and legs and arms. Then here comes a third guy and all four of them squirting and rubbing and laughing. My boner was nowhere to be found. I’ve seen a few pornos and figured a scene like this usually ended one way. I did not want to see that. But I couldn’t look away.

Mom was dripping with oil by this time and suddenly they grabbed her and turned her over on her back. ‘Here it goes,’ I thought, and cringed. But I couldn’t look away. Fortunately they just squirted her again and started rubbing her stomach and the fronts of her legs and shoulders. She had a pretty pleased look on her face, which somewhat relieved my fears. They kept squirting her and rubbing her and the oil was just pouring off of her. After several minutes she yelled “Hey!” and the music stopped while the four extras scattered. The camera irised in on her face and she gave a smirk just before the circle closed.

‘Fuck,’ I thought as I processed what I just saw. Obviously I had seen Helen do more than that, a lot more. But that was with my father, her husband, the one guy she loved and was married to. Not a bunch of… who were they to her? What if it had turned into a gangbang? Was I prepared to see that? What kind of fire was I playing with? I considered stopping but the curiosity ate me up.

There were lesbian videos mixed in with the art films. Someone was apparently into bondage of the girl-on-girl variety. It wasn’t explicit but these girls made up for that with their brutality toward each other. I’m no expert on corporal bursa escort punishment but I’m thinking some of it was going to leave marks. I did not enjoy any of it but I watched them carefully, terrified I might see my mother among the participants. Was she directing the action? Or just shooting the videos?

Art film met BDSM in a film titled “DUNGEON MISTRESS”. This one was black and white and the lighting was murky. It appeared to take place in a dismal basement. A woman in uniform stood by a table and chair reading a clipboard. She called for a prisoner by number and my mother entered from the inky blackness of a doorway. She did not look good. Her hair was a tangled mess and she was wearing a shapeless bag of a dress. The fear on her face seemed genuine. If I wasn’t sure this was her production I’d believe she really was a prisoner.

The woman put down the clipboard and pulled on rubber gloves with exaggerated gestures. I didn’t like where this was going.

“Are you concealing any contraband?”


I winced as the woman slapped her. It was a stage slap, I knew. But it seemed real.

“No, ma’am.”

“Open your mouth.” The woman clicked on a little flashlight and examined the interior of Mom’s open mouth. I was not enjoying this, not at all.

The woman had her sit down in a chair and to my disbelief she took out clippers and shaved my mother’s head down to the scalp. What the fuck? Mom was sobbing when the woman ordered her to her feet but when she bent her over the table she began wailing.

The woman slapped her again. “Quiet! You’ll probably enjoy this part, slut!”

Standing behind her she reached under my mother’s shapeless dress and frisked her. Then she did something that made Mom’s eyes widen in horror. I was glad they were both facing the camera because I did not want to see what was happening under that dress. I felt like I was going to be sick.

“Nothing there,” the woman said, “how about… here!”

Helen nearly went cross-eyed and her mouth opened in a silent cry. I wanted to reach through the screen and shake that woman, that harpy who was torturing my mother. I knew it was just a fiction but it touched a raw nerve. My eyes went out of focus as the remaining footage played.

Well, fuck this. I left the remaining videos unwatched. I decided to re-encrypt the two volumes, this time using better encryption technology. I knew, though, that no technology was foolproof. I would have to ultimately destroy the files to keep them from being found out. Especially that last video I watched. What the fuck? I put the disc back in the envelope, the one that said “Destroy this disc. Do not read.”. But if I’m too stupid to follow those instructions, what made me think anyone else would?


Over the holidays I paid a visit to my sister and her boyfriend in Chicago. I drove instead of flew because Amy had boxes of things to take back with me. It was fun doing touristy things and spending time with her. Lately I had been kind of a hermit for obvious reasons and it felt good to come out of my cave. Her boyfriend, David, sometimes did things with us and sometimes didn’t. He seemed distant not just with me but with Amy, as well. When I asked her about it she said they were going through a rough patch and wouldn’t elaborate.

Eventually we had to buckle down to finish the remaining paperwork from our parent’s estate. While we were signing and scanning she asked me to help her set up file encryption, which I thought was a funny coincidence. She was worried about all of the sensitive documents that were piling up. I did a security audit of her PC and installed a consumer-friendly lockbox that would give her peace of mind until I could help her set up something stronger.

Just before I was due to go back she brought out boxes and garment bags of Dad’s old clothes. I thought they were all donated or something but Amy kept them for me to go through. Dad was a dapper guy so I was pretty enthused. I went to the guest room and tried on a suit. The fit wasn’t perfect but close enough. I stepped in the bathroom to check myself out… very sharp. Just on bursa escort bayan a lark I wet my hair and combed it like Charles used to. Looking good, Mr. T_____.

When I strolled into the living room to show off, Amy went pale and fled the room. David and I were both astonished by her reaction. Then it hit me. I must have reminded her of Dad. How stupid of me. It’s been years, but her grief must still be lurking under the surface. I changed back into my own clothes and went to scratch on her door. She came out and I could see she had been crying. Later she confided that Dad was a lot in her thoughts lately. Seeing him in me caught her at a weak moment.

Thinking about the incident later, I realized that Amy kind of resembled our mother as well, except for her hair color. This thought made me uncomfortable.


By the time I got back home I was jonesing to watch the remaining videos. I dreaded it, but I couldn’t find peace not knowing. Fortunately the later videos were not so bad. It was artsy soft-core porn, guy-girl stuff, with the creep factor dialed way back. My father began making appearances and it was clear that he and my mother were a couple. That made me feel better. The scenes were kind of boring, though, when I thought about the explicit, hi-def hotness of the first volume.

Two of these videos would have been very hot if, again, it hadn’t been my mother in the scene. The first, titled “DOUBLE FEATURE”, had Mom sitting between Dad and another guy. They were supposed to be in a movie theater and the lights flickered on them in the dark as if a movie was playing. The men were sitting stock still, facing forward. Mom was squirming in her seat like a hyperactive teenager.

She leaned toward my dad and stage whispered, “Why did your friend have to come with us? I thought it would be just you and me.”

“You know he’s been having a rough time,” Dad replied matter of factly, still looking forward. “He could use a night out.”

Mom glanced back at the friend. “Why does he have to sit next to me? Why can’t he sit on the other side of you?”

“If he wasn’t sitting there, a pervert might sit next to you. You wouldn’t want that, would you? You ought to thank him.”

Mom appeared to think this over, then thanked him. The friend smiled and nodded.

Dad took Mom’s hand and put it on his crotch. She pulled it back and he took it again, put it on his crotch. She relented and put both of her hands in his lap. The lighting made it hard to see exactly what was going on but it looked like she was undoing his belt and fly. The position she was in made her ass rise half out of the chair and the friend’s hand slipped under her skirt. She turned and pushed his hand away. But when she went back to work in Dad’s lap the friend’s hand was again under her skirt. She half-heartedly tried to reject him, then gave up.

Her hand was stroking up and down in Dad’s lap. He put his arm around her and his hand went to the back of her head. He pushed her head toward his lap and she resisted. It occurred to me that this was seriously disturbing. I had always been taught that if a woman didn’t want to do something you didn’t make her do it. Here was my mother acting out a scene that suggested that maybe this wasn’t always true. Sure enough, she relented and her face went down in his lap.

Her new position brought her ass completely out of the chair. The friend put his own face up between her legs and appeared to vigorously devour her from behind. If it wasn’t my mother I would have been stiff as a board. As it was, my thing shriveled like in a cold shower. Who the fuck was this guy? Was he really eating my Mom’s pussy? Even if he wasn’t, he was close to it. Meanwhile my dad bobbed her head up and down in his lap. Was he cool with this? What if the guy whipped it out and stuffed it in Mom’s box. Would he just sit there like an idiot, pretending to watch a movie while they spit-roasted my mother?

They finished, or pretended to finish. The friend emerged from under Mom’s skirt. Dad pushed her back in her chair and zipped himself up. Mom preened in a clear display of orgasmic bliss. escort bursa She crossed her legs and leaned over to the friend and whispered something in his ear, her hand on his crotch. Like a fucking whore.

The other video was worse. It was the last one, no more after this one. In this scene… well it wasn’t even a scene. It was just Mom sitting on the couch with some guy, leaning against him and rubbing his leg. He was a big man, tough-looking.

Dad’s voice came from off camera. “Well, honey. Is it real?”

She laughed. “It’s real.”

With horror I realized she wasn’t rubbing his leg. She was rubbing his cock and it reached half way down the thigh of his jeans.

“So what do you want to do?” Dad asked.

“I want to know what you want me to do.” She replied.

“There’s no script, babe. Just suit yourself. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ve never seen one this big. I’d like to see it out, if that’s all right.”

“Are you asking me? I think Rick is the one you need to ask.”

Rick had no objections. Mom opened his fly and reached into his jeans. I felt numb as she pulled it out, an erection as big as her forearm. She gave it a couple of tentative strokes before helping him take his pants completely off.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked the camera.

“What do you want to do?” My father replied.

She brought it to her lips and wrapped them around the head. It was so big she could barely fit it in her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the head and then she licked the shaft, up one side and down the other. Like a fucking whore.

She wrapped both hands around his cock and stroked it in earnest. Periodically she would suck the head into her mouth or lick the shaft to make it wet. When she did this she would cup his balls and massage them. The wetter his shaft got the faster and more aggressively she jacked him off. How could Dad just sit there and watch this? What a fucking asshole.

With one hand still stroking him she pulled off her shirt. She knelt in front of him and wetted his shaft with some sloppy kisses. Then she pushed out her chest and took that thing between her tits. She pulled her upper arms in tight, causing her slutty boobs to squeeze him, using her fingertips to keep him pressed against her. Then she raised and lowered herself on her knees, masturbating him with her chest and stomach. On the downstrokes his cock jutted into her face and she gave it a drooling lick or suck each time it did.

“You ready?” Rick asked after what seemed like forever.

“Ready for what?” Mom asked breathily, not pausing her stroke.

The jerk grabbed her by her ponytail and stood up. Holding her squirming by her hair he gave his penis a few pumps and proceeded to cover her face with jets of come. I nearly vomited. Mom cried out in protest but she was laughing. They were all three laughing. When he was done, Rick picked up his pants and walked off camera, leaving my mother sitting on the floor with ejaculate all over her face.

“That was perfect.” Charles sounded not upset at all.

Mom looked shyly toward the camera. “You must think I’m a total slut.”

“I think I’d better marry you, is what I think.”

Mom laughed and looked away, then looked back. “Oh no, you’re serious aren’t you?”

“Totally serious. I want you all to myself, if that’s all right.”

“Well, if you’re going to propose, can I wash my face first?” She gave the camera her sleepy eyes, her serene smile. “You’re going to erase this, right?”


I got good and drunk that night. I was pretty mortified. Perversely, I felt betrayed, though I know how stupid that sounds. She wasn’t my wife. She wasn’t even my father’s wife when those videos were made. She was a young woman at the time, younger than me, flexing her creativity, her sexuality, her desire to make a mark. Certainly she didn’t intend for her children to see it. I had to jump through hoops to do so, so who’s at fault here?

In the end, I knew my mother better than I did before, as unpleasant as it was to gain that knowledge. She was a remarkable person, one of a kind. I decided then that I had to share what I found with Amy when she came to visit. She might not like it, might not appreciate it, but she deserved to know the truth. But how would I bring up the subject? How would she take it? And would she be able to guess at my disgusting incestuous feelings toward our mother?

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