When I'd gone off to college the year before, I knew my parents would be lonely, I just didn't know how much. I was fine. The entire year went by quickly for me, but for them, it just seemed to linger. They drifted apart, at least that's what I got from emails and phone calls.
My mother would call me late in the evening, when my father was supposed to be home, but wasn't. I could tell she'd started drinking more than usual and each time she called it was a little bit sloshier. I felt bad. I figured my dad wasn't just "working late" and I knew she wanted to believe him, but she didn't.
One night she called and confided in me that she thought he was having an affair in Atlanta, miles away from her in California. She thought he might have someone there that was more important than her, more sensuous, or more exciting. It made me so sad to hear her talk to me about the way she envisioned him seducing this young, exciting girl.
She'd drink her Martinis and tell me about how she thought his "lecture series" was just a way for him to fulfill some "sex addiction" she thought he had. A bunch of stuff I didn't need to hear about, but she was always drinking when she called and didn't seem to care, like I was one of her friends or something and not her son.
So it wasn't a surprise when my father called and told me he was doing a "summer series of lectures" in Atlanta and that he wouldn't be able to see me over summer break. I thought of my mother the whole time he was talking. She was right. He was an asshole. I didn't listen too much that he had to say after that. Just mumbling on the phone, but I did hear him say, "man of the house" and I thought, yeah, I will be the only man in that house you prick.
It was May and school was almost out for the semester. I was 19 and still couldn't go to the bars where most of my friends were hanging out. I'd always seemed to be attracted to older friends, men and women and most of them were around 25 or 26, so it wasn't unusual that I was home alone on a Friday night in May.
I was feeling a bit lonely, as my first year of college had almost come around and I still didn't have any real stories to tell. My father would get drunk and tell me conquest stories of his days at University and I thought I was supposed to follow in those footsteps, but just didn't seem to know where to walk.
I figured I'd pour myself a little Patron, left over from a party I'd thrown for my friend Cassie and her partner Stevie. That night I'd drank way too much and sort of watched Cassie and Stevie make out in front of me for like an hour while they thought I was passed out. It was actually pretty fucking hot watching people who didn't know you were watching them. The sounds they made and the way they awkwardly fumbled through pieces of their clothing to get to each other's nipples made me so hard on the ground. I wanted to rub one out so badly, but just laid there, watching.
Anyways, back to my lonely, pathetic Friday night plans at college: I poured myself some Patron and got online. After about an hour of twitching my eyes to not look at the sexy pop-up ads to the right of whatever forum I'd happen to click on, I found myself staring at the screen. A gif of a woman, maybe in her 50's, her dark black hair pulled back, an apron on, nothing else, cleavage pouring out over the tops of it, bending over, again and again in gif wonderment.
I kept staring. My cock pulsed and I could feel my heart pumping. I clicked on the image. Then another and another and another, until my cock was raging underneath me. I looked at more older women online that night than I ever had before. Their eyes looked at the camera differently, wantingly in a way no 20 year-old could ever understand. I watched video after video of older women seducing younger boys; boys who'd just come home from college, just like me. I wondered, as i started to paw at my pants, groping down on my balls and cock, wanting to unleash it, but needing to click the screen to see more images.
I was addicted to this new wonderlust. The eyes of an older woman staring down on me, her cleavage pouring out, nurturing her pussy around my throbbing cock, soothing me to feeling calm, content and brimming with pleasure. Oh fuck, I edged so hard, not wanting to cum, addicted to the images, one after the next.
I was lost in my headphones, my balls tensing up on my 7in, cut shaft. My hand was squeezing hard, edging my cock, so that I could consume more images of gorgeous older mothers, 40, 50, sometimes 60 years old! I didn't care. I stroked and grabbed my balls hard, about to cum...
Then the phone rang. I ignored it and tried to stay on track, but it wouldn't stop ringing. Why the fuck!? I thought, as i paused the video, clamped my cock hard with one hand and angrily picked up my phone, screaming,
"yeah!?"
"Andy, is that any way to talk to your mother?"
I was mortified. My cock was swelling in my hand, my balls aching underneath my tight grip. I paused, froze, didn't say anything, looked at the computer screen, thought of the phone, froze again.
"Andy!? Are you there? It's your mother and I need you right now, are you there, Andy?"
"Yea, uh, mom." I stammered.
I looked around the dorm room. I knew I'd be alone for the evening, but this felt awkward even to me. Half naked, my cock in my hand, standing up out of downright embarrassment, talking to my mom on the phone, with naked videos of gorgeous, wanting women of HER AGE filling my computer screen.
"Andy, I...," I heard her take a long sip of her Martini.
"Andy, I need to speak with you about something, are you alone?" She asked.
"Yea, Mom, I'm just here in the dorm, whatsup, I'm kinda busy, I mean it is Friday night and all," I spouted out with a bit of teenage indignity.
"Well," she said, "I am just thinking that you don't need to get a job this summer."
"Uh, why wouldn't I get a job this summer, Mom, I've had one since I was 15?" I asked.
"I just need you around the house, you see, your father, well, your father won't be here and I'll just need you to do jobs around the house that he would have done," she said sloppily, her Martini no doubt spilling over her Tiffany crystal.
"Like what?" I asked.
My eyes were starting to confound me and I now started noticing my cock was not only not going down, but seemed to be pulsing every time my mother spoke. I held it tightly, gripping it tightly, as if I wasn't the one in control of it. I was edging hard college cock in one hand and talking on the phone to my mother with the other. I couldn't help it. I almost wanted to cry, but I couldn't help it. My cock felt so good, so full.
"Well, Andy," she started, taking another long sip of what was probably her 3rd Martini of the evening.
"Well, Andy, the second bedroom needs to be redone, I am turning it into a yoga studio, complete with a sauna. Isn't that wonderful?" She said, pouring back the alcohol into her throat.
I could picture her running a hand through her hair as she stated the sentence, victorious. She must have really turned over a new leaf with the news of my father's "summer lecture series" in Atlanta.
"The second bedroom, you mean my room?" I shot back, like a stricken, angsty brat.
"Well, Andy it was your room, but now it will be a sauna and work out room and we can all use it."
She sounded so happy I didn't want to upset her, though I was now feeling like her son more and more. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed, i squeezed my balls and took a deep breath.
"Where am I going to sleep while I am helping turn my old room into your, whatever, your sauna sanctuary?"
I tossed back the words quickly with another shot of Patron and waited for my cock to return to normal, so subside, to give me refuge. It did not. It stood at attention, without guilt or shame, intent on hearing her every word.
I could hear her take a deep pull of her Martini and rustle around a little bit.
"Andy, I'm not worried about stuff like that, don't be worried about anything like that. We are going to make it a great summer, regardless of whether your father will be home or not. We are going to make it our house and just do things the way we want to do them. Don't worry about a thing, Mommy will take care of you."
She hung up, drunk again. I took the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Then I looked down and watched my cum soaked belly button fill and seep down across my shaved, toned abs, and pool into the base of my cock. I passed out, my last thoughts drifting to what this insane summer was going to hold.When I finally arrived home that summer I couldn't have been more tired. My first year of college had flown by, but dealing with my overly dramatic, narcissistic parents was killing me. I'd never really thought of them as narcissists before, but after taking a couple psychology classes and thinking I could diagnose anyone anywhere, I figured them both to be narcissists, intent on fulfilling their own desires at any given time, no matter who it hurt.
The strange thing about narcissists, is that they can't even conceptualize they are truly hurting another person. That person is simply a foil to their great and important story. That person is just another tool on their way to self-gratification. It's sick and I was done caring about what shitty parents I had when I walked through the door of my childhood home, the June after my freshmen year at college.
"Hellllloooo," I said laconically, throwing my bags on the ground and expecting the usual raucous welcome. Nothing.
I knew my father was in Atlanta, doing a "summer lecture series," which probably meant doing some girl enrolled in one of his lecture classes for the summer. At least that's what my mom told me when she'd call up drunk and lonesome all 2nd semester. Either way, I knew he wasn't home. My mom was probably home, as he BMW X5 was in the driveway, but I didn't hear her, which was unusual as she should have been expecting me. Normally, I'd be worried, but after all of the marital turmoil she'd been drinking more, going out less, getting dressed, seemingly just to Skype with me. She was lonely.
"Mommmmmm," I yelled, But again. Nothing.
I walked up the stairs slowly, thinking that maybe something weird was going on, but trying not to believe it. I had on a pair of black swim trunks and a white v-neck shirt, my blue eyes still hidden behind dark glasses. I tiptoed up the stairs and took off my glasses when I reached the top.
I heard something coming from the 2nd bedroom, my room, the one she said we were going to rip apart and turn into a sauna and work out room. Something "we can all use" she'd said. Yea right, I thought, something you will use and, again, I will be the one who loses out. With that thought in mind, I picked up my pace and walked toward the second bedroom at the end of the hallway.
The door was slightly ajar and I was just about to burst in, push the door open and deliver an impassioned speech about my rights and how it's my bedroom and how I needed to be listened to, when I heard what sounded like crying on the other side of the door. I took a step back and almost pushed the door open when I heard between tears a loud, visceral, shaking groan, that only a grown woman can make. I shuddered and my cock pulsed at the animalistic sound. I heard the bed creak and the groan turned softer and into a light moan.
"mmm...mhmmm..mhmm." she let out, as my old bed creaked back and forth.
I couldn't believe my ears. She has the whole fucking house to herself and here she is in...my bedroom...masturbating. OMG I couldn't even think it, my mother masturbating, and in my bedroom. The whole thing was a lot to take on after being in the house for about 2 minutes, so I took another step back and surveyed the situation.
"mmmhmmm...hmm..hmm..hmm..hmm.hmm...ohhhhhh yessss," her groans and moans were quickening, the rocking creaked the bed and it sounded like it was going to crack. Fuck! Do I just walk away, will she hear me? Should I put a stop to this, I mean it's my room, WTF!? Ughhh!
I froze. I didn't do anything. I listened.
"hmm..hmm..hmm..oh yea, fuck your sluts, Bob, you fuck your sluts, I'll get mine..mmm..mhm..hmm...hmm...hmm..oh YES AN..!" She screamed.
Creaking, groaning, angry, vindictive sexual energy swirled around my childhood bedroom. My mother releasing her anger at the world, at my father, at herself, on my childhood bed. I didn't know what to do, so I tiptoed back downstairs, hearing her a bit fainter with each movement. I walked carefully back down the through the entryway and opened the front door, stepping back outside.
I rang the doorbell 10 times at least. I knocked as loud as you can knock, I rang the bell again and then I called her phone. I didn't know what else to do, but I knew I couldn't hear those sounds anymore, not coming from that person, sitting in that place, doing those things on my childhood bed.
I opened the door. I stepped through. I tried to pretend everything was okay, that I was just coming home to a loving household, with a loving mother, who would welcome me and hear about my drive from college.
"Mommm," I yelled, louder than I'd ever yelled in the house before.
I could sense the creaking had stopped, the house was eerily quiet.
"AN...ANDY is that YOU!?" She yelled from the second bedroom, no doubt still in the shudder of orgasm, her face wet and dripping, her long black hair probably sticking to her forehead. I
"I'm hommmeee," I yelled, with a bit of angst and resentment pouring through.
I knew she'd be fumbling across the bed, trying to get it not to creak. Lord only knows what she was wearing, or not wearing, while she was on that bed. My bed. My covers, which would soon enough be torn down to make way for her sauna. I knew she'd be throwing on a bathrobe, probably a silk, black bathrobe. Her 36DD breasts, a gift from my father on her 50th bday, would no doubt be pushed tightly into a sports bra and wrapped hastily behind the silk robe. I doubt if she'd take the time to put panties on, if she didn't have them on already. Her legs were no doubt perfectly smooth and shaven and like any good Yoga instructor, even at 52, her body was tight, tense and taut.
I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Bottles of chilled white wine, grapes and fruit slices, some milk and a few leftovers were scattered throughout. I took out the milk, checked the date and poured it into a glass.
I was drinking the glass of milk when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs and called out my name.
"Andy," She yelled like an excited school girl.
"You're home, oh, you're finally home," She squealed.
My mother ran over to when I was standing and hugged me tightly like I was a little kid home from his 1st day of school. I put the milk down, smiled and hugged her back. I'd missed her and hadn't let myself just be glad to see my mom. I returned her hug and felt her push her breasts tightly to my chest. I knew she still wasn't used to them and probably didn't know how sexual it was to have huge tits with still hard nipples pushed up against your chest. Her nipples were large and pushing into my chest as she squeezed. I didn't say anything and squeezed tighter. I could smell her sweat, like she'd been working out, her hair still misty with dew from her brow.
"We're you working out, mom?" I asked innocently, relieved to pull away from the hug that wasn't ending.
"Oh, uh, well, yes, sweetie, I was working out in the, well, the new workout room, haha, you're old room," she said with a smile, as she turned away from me, probably out of shame or guilt, who knows. Her face would never redden as it should on account of her narcissism. It overruled every other emotion. It had always been like that and I couldn't imagine it being any different now.
She walked into the bathroom just off the kitchen, as vain as the day is long, and no doubt was fixing up her makeup when she said,
"So what are your plans this summer, Andy? I have a few things that I'd like you to do?"The first day back from college wasn't exactly what I thought it was going to be. Like I explained in Chapter 2, arriving to find my mother making sexual noises, in our house, in my old room, on my old bed! It was hard to wrap my mind around. Some part of me sorta wished I wouldn't have just backed away and walked downstairs awkwardly. I mean, what was she doing?
With my father in Atlanta for the summer on his 'lecture series' and me being the only child, my mother must have thought she was alone, but why was she in my room, on my bed!? It's not like I could have just gone and asked her without opening up a huge can of horribly awkward, so I stayed quiet. I didn't mention it.
I'd become used to keeping awkward feelings inside. I'd done it my whole life. With my mother being a narcissist and all, she never really cared what I was feeling or why I was feeling it. She just cared about fixing the problem, so she could come our victorious. She didn't seem to mind horribly that my father was cheating on her, she didn't seem to mind that she drank about a half a bottle of Grey Goose a night, nor did she seem to mind when her nipples, still hard and erect from her romp on my childhood bed, pushed hard into my chest during our first hug.
That hug! My God it was a hug a woman gives to a man she's welcoming home from war. She gripped me differently, almost violently. She'd held her body, her 36DD breasts wrapped in a black silk bathrobe, tightly to mine - longer than she ever had before. Her long black hair brushed against my arms and the silk of the robe felt soft on my fingers.
When I let go of her she pressed harder. That's when I'd noticed the pulse race through my cock, up like a breath into my abdomen and explode in my throat. I gasped, audibly. And in that moment, I knew something was different.
The rest of that day I spent trying to take a nap. I wanted to wake up, start over, and pretend nothing awkward had ever happened. I wanted to pretend that my loving mother welcomed me home from college with a hot dinner and a beer. That she was at the door, waiting to receive me, to ask me how my first year away at college had gone. I wanted to pretend that she still loved my father and that he still loved her.
I fell asleep for I don't know how long. It was hard to get comfortable, so I was in and out of sleep for what seemed like forever. At some point I began dreaming. My thoughts drifted in and out of reality...
I was at my childhood home, but there was a college party going on. People from my life, my high school years and my college friends were all hanging out. People were everywhere, totally out of control. Then, in dreamlike fashion, I was walking the halls of my high school, which was somehow just up the stairs from the party. I walked slowly, opening up the classroom doors, one by one. They were all empty. No one was around, but me. I drifted down the hallway, towards a noise, a soft moan.
"mhmmm..." I heard a faint sound echoing in the hallway.
I followed the noise until I came to the end of the long hallway of my high school. I was at my home room class, Mr. Alexander's room. I peered inside.
Inside, Mr. Alexander, a tall, white, bearded man with dark brown hair, blue eyes and muscular forearms was pinning my mother to the wall just next to the door. His forearms bristled as they surged with power. He stood up straight and tall. My mother was forced to do the same, her back hard pressed against the classroom wall. I watched as he removed his hands, but her's stayed in place. She moaned again.
"And Yes, you can have me, you can have me," she whispered to Mr. Alexander with her eyes closed.
My mother was dressed in a black, silk bathrobe, like the one she wore when she hugged me. Her 36DD breasts were heaving in anticipation, her caramel skin, still tight from years of instructing Yoga and obsessing over her looks, looked like dark dessert.
Mr. Alexander grabbed her by the throat. Her hands shot up, exposing her vulnerable body and standing tall at his attention. Her robe slipped and fell. She was naked, my teacher holding her by the neck, against the wall of my home room class. Her legs, taut and slender were beginning to buckle. I watched as they did so and followed her body until I saw a perfectly manicured, shaved pussy. My mother's pussy. I stared at her labia, the right just slightly larger than the left. She breathed and her labia moved slightly, glistening as her body soaked up the power of Mr. Alexander's grip. Her waist led to motherly hips, her heaving breasts and large brown nipples. Her nipples, so hard and long, grew as Mr. Alexander's left hand groped her right breast with one hard grasp. He kneaded the skin, her nipple twisting, turning, hardening tightly as he pulled it with his thumb and forefinger. Slowly.
"AND You have me, you have me, fuck, yes, you have me," she started to say over and over again through short gasps.
I could see her eyes opening in small slits, though she stared deeply into Mr. Alexander.
"Fuck me, Mr. A, I want you to fuck me. I've always wanted you to fuck me. I've been waiting, just begging for you to grab me, hold me, fuck me and run me through. Are you the man of the house, Mr. A? hmmm?" She whispered.
Then I watched as my high school home room teacher spun my 52 year old mother around like a teenager he was about to discipline. He forced her to face the wall, pushed her body hard against it and quickly unbuckled his pants. Before I knew it his cock was ripe and hard in front of my eyes. I saw him lean into my mother's ass, pushing his cock up and into her left ass cheek and then her right. He groped her tits. He bit her neck. She whimpered and screamed and whispered inaudible gasps. His cock was so big too, at least 10 inches. I thought my cock was nice, with it's 8 inches, big thick head and wide shaft, but Mr. Alexander's cock was porn style hot. I watched it push into my mother's asshole, her ass pushing back into him. Her face pressed against the wall. Mr. Alexander pressed his cock again into her asshole and then it was inside her. She screamed and moaned like i'd never heard a woman do before. She bucked and pushed his body with her own, begging for a deeper, harder fucking. She was lost in his body and I couldn't stop staring.
Then Mr. Alexander looked over and made eye contact with me outside his door. Of course, he didn't say anything, he just stared at me, fucking my mother with hard, deep penetrations. He stared and I could see him looking at my cock. For a second I was embarrassed, but then I seemed to not even care. I watched his huge cock like I was worshiping it's every move. Into my mother's asshole, widening it, taking any innocence she had left and pushing it back through time. I was mesmerized.
My mother's screams became shudders and I could tell she was going to cum. I watched her hands grab her tits and knead each one with intense force. She pulled hard on her nipples and pushed her body back into my teacher. She loved it, Every second of the obsession, the addiction to his body. And I was addicted too. Staring, like the first time a boy sees a naked woman, with wonderment beyond compare.
"uuhuh," she gasped.
"mhmm, open me up and fuck me," she groaned heavily into the wall.
"And You, fuck me," she screamed, her body beginning to shake.
"And You, fuckkkkkkkk meeeeeee, mhmm, now, fuck me now, mhmmm and you fuck me now, and you fuck me now, and y--," her voice shot into the stars.
"ANDY, wake up!" I heard sound coming faintly from a distant world.
"ANDY, wake up...hello?" My mother screamed from the kitchen, one floor down.
I awoke to a hard, throbbing shaft, my breaths short and quick. I took a long breath and opened my eyes. I looked down at my pulsing cock, not knowing what was happening. Laying in my childhood bed, my cock hard from a dream about my mother fucking my teacher. Fuck, this was going to be a weird summer.
"ANDY, do you hear me?" My mother screamed from downstairs.
"Yes, mom. What do you want? I'm just napping for a sec." I yelled back.
"Well, I'm just telling you I'm going to my Yoga class, so you are here by yourself. You're the man of the house, sweetie, so why don't you make yourself useful while I'm gone, huh?" She yelled up, finishing with a typically snarky tone.
"Uhuh," I yelled back, matching her mood.
I heard the door slam and took another deep breath. I stared down at my cock, still somehow hard. I reached down and felt it pulse as I grabbed it from the base. I couldn't believe my mother had been in this very spot, not a few hours before, making those sounds. My god, doing what? What she was doing in my dream? Well, not without Mr. Alexander, but it sounded the same. I stroked my cock slowly from the base to the head, polishing the top with a smooth twist.
I looked around my childhood bedroom. Nothing had been changed yet, it was pretty clean still. I noticed something black on the ground and I turned my head off the bed, keeping my cock in my hand. Black, silk panties. Fuckin Christ! She left her panties in here when she left in such a hurry. I grabbed them and felt the smooth silk in my hands. I ran it against my fingers and felt it plush against my palm. My cock hardened and I almost came, but that sudden instant jeer, the acknowledgement that these panties were my mothers. They were hot, they were wet and they were hers.
I didn't care anymore. Her hugs, my dreams, her screams, her panties, faaaahhhhkkkk! I pressed the panties to my cock with one hand. I wrapped them around my shaft carefully and begin to pump. Up and down on my cock with my mother's panties.
I thought of her robe slipping, the lust rolling back in her eyes, as Mr. Alexander was told to take her. To use her. To manipulate her body to his liking. My cock swelled and pulsed and I held the black silk panties tightly to my cock head. I thought of her bright blue eyes rolled back into her head, her gasps quickening as his 10 inch cock penetrated her asshole without her worry or care.
"fuck her," I grunted as I came hard into the panties, my eyes rolling back into my head as her's had done in my dream.
Four or five thick loads of cum drenched the black silk and I wadded it tightly while my body seized in pleasure. I gasped and took some short breaths, then threw the panties back on the floor.
"See how she likes that," I said to myself, determined not to touch them.
Then something devilish in me wanted her to find them like that, in my room. I wanted her to know that she couldn't just do whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted anymore. Her pleasure was no longer going to be the only thing anyone ever cared about.
Then I had another idea. I don't really know why, I can't explain it, but I got out of the bed. I reached down and grabbed my mother's panties, soaked in my cum. I marched in my boxers into her bedroom. I knew no one was home and I didn't worry about wandering around her room in just my underwear. I looked down to see my cock pressed tight against my leg, my black boxers holding it's still swollen shaft. I sort of just groped it as I walked into her bedroom, feeling my head pulse a little as I looked around her room.
I saw pictures of her everywhere. Some of my father, a few of me, but mostly of her. She loved to wear tight tops to show off the boobs my father so nicely purchased for her. He was probably balls deep in an intern right now in Atlanta, so "fuck him," I said aloud.
I picked up a picture of my mother holding a martini in a cocktail dress. The camera viewed her from above and you could see her massive tits packed tightly into her snug, black dress. I wondered how much my father jerked off to those pictures? I wondered how many men had jerked off to my mother? I got kind turned on thinking about it, about other men looking at my mother and seeing a hot body. Just a hot body, someone they'd like to fetishize and fuck. I wondered if you could fetishize anybody you want. Like, could you just pick a person who you never found attractive, and create a fetish around that person, so that you were throbbing hard every time you saw em? I wonder.
I started to go through her drawers, just seeing what other surprises she had in store for me during my visit. I opened the top drawer of the dresser first. There were panties strewn about all over the drawer. Lace and silk mostly, soft and sensuous to the touch. I opened the next drawer and took out a black, lace bra. The 36DD cups were so big and I traced the outline of the bra with my index finger. I could feel my cock pulsing every time I touched the lace and I knew this was turning me on. I ran my hand across the bra and felt a shiver come over me. I brought it up to my face and inhaled deeply, smelling my mother's perfume, her scent, as I brought it to my skin. Rubbing it on my cheek slightly, licking the lace, just to taste it.
I put the bra back in the drawer and was about to close it when I heard something shift in the back. I reached into the back of the drawer and felt large, hard black rubber cock. I gripped it with an exasperated expression on my face and pulled it out. WTF!??
Is my mother some kind of depraved fucking sex fiend that I never knew about? WTF!? Masturbating on my childhood be, big black sex cocks, fucking Christ, what is going on? I brought the dildo up to my eyesight and examined it. At least 10 inches and thicker than any cock i'd ever seen. It was fucking massive.
There was a little switch at the bottom and I flipped it with my thumb. The cock started vibrating fiercely and I almost dropped it. I gripped it firmly and smiled as I thought of how crazy it was that this cock had been in my mother's pussy, who knows how many times?
I wondered if she sucked it? Did she fantasize about a big cocked man pushing her up against the wall? Would she be more discreet? How did her face look when cock first went into her pussy? Thoughts raced through my head and I felt the rush of sensuality that makes you know you're gonna need to unload cum sometime soon.
I felt so fucking kinky, standing in my mother's room, with my mothers dildo, in my boxers with cum still on them from thinking about my mother. A full plate for a pscyh evaluation, that's for sure, but I didn't care. I just didn't care.
I didn't even think about it as I brought the cock to my mouth and tasted the tip. Running my tongue along the head and licking the salty essence from its shaft. So this is what my mother's pussy tastes like, I thought. My cock noticed too and was starting to spring to attention. Again I tasted the cock, thinking of my mother's wet juices sliding down it as it penetrated her body. Her mound soaking it as it glided in and out of her gasping hole.
My cock felt harder and harder and I was starting to kind of shake a little, like I was out of control. I'd never felt such a rush of adrenaline while feeling so sexual and I couldn't control it. I didn't know what to do.
I walked into her bathroom and pulled her black, silk robe off the hook. I immediately wrapped my cock into the bathrobe and began fucking it. I pumped so hard into the black silk, still tasting my mother's pussy juices on my lips. My cock throbbed to the thought of the robe actually touching her skin. Her tits, her pussy, fuck, she was too much. I pressed one hand against the wall and stroked my cock hard, grunting as I did so. Then I grabbed the robe with both hands and pressed it up hard against the wall. I thrust my cock into and out of the silk so fast I couldn't tell what I was touching.
My eyes darted to a picture of my mom in the bathroom in a bikini. She was on a beach, her legs slightly spread, hands on hips, her eyes pointed right at the camera. She knew my father was staring at her tits when he was taking the picture and she was bending over slightly for him to see. She was trying to turn him on.
I stared at the picture, as if she was staring at me, trying to turn me on. I rubbed the robe hard against my aching cock. Over and again I wondered what she would look like if she was trying to turn me on, to get me to fuck her. Would she whimper? Would she beg? Would she be playful? Or would she demand it?
I came into the robe and let it fall when I was standing, on the bathroom floor. I dropped the panties next to it and stumbled over to her bed. I fell down and passed out within minutes. I lay, strewn on my mother's bed, unaware and untamed.