I sat up in my bed rubbing the cobwebs from my eyes. The clock on the night table read 12:24 p.m. I took the day off on account of a stomach virus I caught at the office the other day. After a quick shower to wake me up, I went downstairs to make myself a light breakfast. My wife, Dorthea, had already left for work a few hours ago, so I had the whole house all to myself. As I sat there chewing my toast thinking about what I would do on my day off, the doorbell rang. I shuffled over to the front door making out the shoulder of the mail carrier through the glass paneling. He had a package that needed my signature. I thanked him and glanced at the label with my name typed on it with no return address. I laid the package on the small table by the door where we keep our keys and the mail and went back to finish my breakfast.
Since I didn’t go to work today, I thought it only fair to clean up the house a bit, so my wife wouldn’t come home to a pigsty. I began in the kitchen working my way up the bedrooms upstairs. We had three in total: one for me and my wife, the second for guests and relatives, and finally the third, which used to be our son’s room but now converted into a home office, where we kept our computer, printer, and fax machine.
Dusting around in the office suddenly triggered a flood of memories about Paul, our son. We—that is, Paul and I, had an estranged relationship ever since I could remember. He always saw me as the competition where it concerned his mother’s affections. Now, don’t get me wrong here, I don’t want you to think that I’m suggesting Paul is a mama’s boy. He’s not. But, let’s just say there is something in that boy which isn’t quite right. I’ll tell you what I mean:
It all began when Paul was 5 years old at the time. Dorthea and I were about getting settled under the covers one night when she began telling me about what Paul had requested from her earlier that day. Turning over on my side, I propped my head onto my left hand and waited for her to continue which was customary for me to do when my wife wanted my undivided attention.
Dorthea went on to tell me that she had settled down to watch her favorite soap in the afternoon, I think it was called Blazing Passions or something funny like that, when Paul stormed in and blurted out how he wanted some milk. Okay, I thought, there’s nothing strange about a boy wanting some milk. Dorthea looked deeply into my eyes, which was her way of telling me that she was going to tell me something important. I gave her a nod to continue.
She went on to tell me about how our son walked right up in front of her and pointed his finger at her luscious rack and said he wanted some of mommy’s milk. I widened my eyes for her benefit but in reality, for some reason, this didn’t shock me as it should have. For one thing, I knew a few guys in the neighborhood who would’ve given their right arm to nurse on my wife’s busty tits. She sported a bouncing pair of 42DD breasts with one and a quarter inch nipples when erect. Add to that, a light sprinkling of freckles over her chest that really got my dick hard. The other thing was, Paul was only 5 at the time and probably didn’t know what he was doing.
I told Dorthea I would have a talk with him over that incident. She thanked me and we snuggled falling asleep in each other’s arms. Days passed and the talk I was supposed to have with Paul totally slipped my mind with all the work I was getting at the job. Then, the weekend came and I went out for a jog on a sunny Saturday morning. I cut the run short due to a sprained hamstring. When I reached the front door and I heard a loud yelp from inside.
I pushed the door open and limped into the hallway. I heard my wife disciplining Paul for something or other as I made my way to the entrance of the living room. I peeked around the corner of the archway to see Paul being held at arms length by my wife as he struggled in vain to move toward her. He was thrusting his head forward so he could latch on to her right nipple which stood out from her blue satin robe. Her alabaster tit jiggled as she labored to keep Paul away from her breasts.
In all the commotion, they didn’t hear me come in. When it appeared to Paul that she wasn’t going to allow him suckle her breast, he threw a tantrum the likes of never seen before. He stomped his right foot down on the plush living room carpet, whining how he wanted her milk. Dorthea, however, held her ground explaining to him that she no longer had anymore milk. “Sweetie, mommy can’t give you any of her milk. It’s all gone. You drank it all up when you were just a baby. I can’t make anymore milk unless I have another baby. Do you understand?” He calmed down some but he didn’t buy it and kept on and on trying to break free of her hold.
Paul began to realize, at that moment, he wasn’t going to convince her otherwise. He ceased his struggles and pouted giving her his sad eyes. He often used this tactic when he wanted something he couldn’t have. Paul made like he had given up the fight and it looked to me that he was about to walk away. Dorthea thought as much which is why she let her guard down for a moment—a moment that cost her. Paul rushed into her soft, creamy bosom and latched on to her rose colored nipple and greedily sucked in her teat. Dorthea gasped from the sudden attack on her sensitive nipple. I knew from experience how sensitive they could be. He hefted her heavy breast with his tiny hands and devoured her tit flesh as much as a 5 year old could do. He made loud slurping sounds as he tried to feed his hunger.
“Paul! No, sweetie, she gently said, you can’t suck mommies’ tit. It’s not right.” Paul didn’t listen. If anything, he increased his sucking power while moving his right arm around her waist. My wife struggled to push him off of her tit but when he was about to lose the connection to her nipple, he would bite down to prevent her from disengaging his mouth. She pleaded with him to stop. But after a while, Dorthea gave up her struggles and let him have his way with her mammary.
He hungrily nursed like a thirsty calf. His little hand was dwarfed by her huge tit as its fingers sunk into her spongy skin with blue veins flaring out from her nipple. She brushed her fingers through his hair petting and cooing him. Paul moved up to sit on her lap never letting go of her swollen nipple. She rocked him gently telling him everything was going to be alright. His eyes became heavy after about five minutes and he eventually released her teat and snuggled up against her doughy orbs and fell into a deep sleep. I thought this was a good time to intervene. When I walked into the room, my wife looked up and shook her head at me which was her way of saying she was disappointed in me for not having that talk with Paul. I shrugged my shoulders.
Her nipple glistened with his saliva and appeared a little raw from all the sucking he did. I must admit at that moment, I felt a stirring in my pants. Her tits always had that effect on me. I reached down and gently picked up Paul into my arms and carried him to his room. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Dorthea scooping her right breast back into her gown.
When Paul got up an hour later, I finally sat down with him and had that talk. “Paul, what you did today to mommy was a bad thing. Little boys are not supposed to do those things to their mommies.” His lower lip began to quiver and his eyes became wet. I lowered my voice so as not scare him. “When mommy says NO to you, Paul, you have to stop and listen to what she tells you. Do you understand?” He shook his head up and down but he still had a frightened look to him. I was trying to think of a better way of explaining it to him without getting him all mixed up.
“Son, when you were just a baby, your mother used to feed you her milk because it was what you needed to grow healthy and strong. But, that was four years ago. And now, you’re a big boy. Big boys don’t need mother’s milk. They need food, you see. He frowned as he sat there thinking about it. I thought I’d cut the talk there seeing how the attention span of a 5 year old is almost nil. I ended it there and left his room in search of Dorthea to see if I could be forgiven.
The incident was, thankfully, forgotten by Dorthea but not by Paul. For a time, everything went back to normal, except for my relationship with Paul. Whatever I did or said during that small talk of ours seemed to have changed how Paul viewed our relationship. It was a total Jekyll and Hyde on his part. Maybe he saw me as the main obstacle preventing him from nursing on his mother’s breasts—I don’t know. What I do know is, he was okay with his mother, but not with me. Yeah, we did father and son stuff together like playing ball or camping. But, deep down inside, I knew he had placed a barrier between us. I didn’t worry about it at the time, though, because I thought it was a phase he was going through, and one he would grow out of eventually.
Well, sad as it is to say, Paul never did grow out of his phase of disliking me. If you noticed, I didn’t use the word “hate” in describing his feelings toward me because that emotion would come when Paul got older. I think there were some deep jealousy issues at work here and a possible Oedipus complex. Admittedly, I’m no shrink. However, being a father has given me a unique insight into the mind of my own son.
The status quo, unfortunately, remained the same when Paul reached puberty at 11. It was the time for his hormones to go crazy and for him to become curious about girls. He was supposed to take an interest in girls, not women. Particularly not his mother, which he did once again. In short, he became fascinated with another of his mother’s body parts: her plump, round ass! You see, if I didn’t mention it before, I will now; Dorthea is one of those rare women who are lucky enough to have been blessed by the gene gods. She is pure “T & A,” unlike most other women who are either top or bottom heavy. Men see their chiropractors for an adjustment after straining to get a look at her goods. I consider myself very fortunate to have a caught a woman who’s ample in both departments.
Anyway, getting back to Paul. When he was 5 and took an interest in his mother’s breasts, I could understand that as something nonsexual. A child’s curiosity if you will. But now that he’s 11 and has started puberty, I realized his interest in Dorthea’s ass was anything but curiosity. It appeared, to me, more along the lines of pure unadulterated lust! A boy’s lust. Again, just like she did that fateful day six years ago, Dorthea had one of those talks with me when I arrived late from work on a Wednesday evening. I hadn’t even had supper yet before she grabbed my hand and led me to our bedroom upstairs. I knew something was up, but I couldn’t figure if it was something I’d done or something Paul did.
Loosening my tie as I crossed the threshold of our room, I dropped my briefcase by the dresser and plopped down on the bed with a loud sigh. She parked her sweet rear next to me and gave me one of her looks. The look that said: “This is serious and you had better pay attention.” I sighed again waited for the impending speech to come.
“Dear, do you remember how I wanted you to have a talk with Paul about his fascination with my breasts—oh, about six years ago?” Oh shit, I knew that boy did something he wasn’t supposed to again.
“Yeah, I seem to recall that talk. From my perspective, it didn’t go so well. Why are you bringing it up now?” I said with some uneasiness. She reached out and clasped my right hand into her left and lightly squeezed.
“Well, it looks like you’re going to have another talk with him but this time about why a son should never grab his mother’s ass.” To say I was shocked upon hearing that was an understatement. I couldn’t believe Paul would be so bold as to fondle his mother in such a sexual manner. I’ve had my suspicions that he was one of those sons’s who likes his mother a little too much, but I never thought it would come to this.
“Okay, I replied calmly, tell me how it happened.”
“Well, I was washing the breakfast dishes in the afternoon since I didn’t have a chance to get to them in the morning. Paul walked in from school and I greeted him like I always do. He made a beeline for the refrigerator to get some juice. I don’t know why, but I got this creepy feeling after a while that made me look over my shoulder. I saw Paul holding a glass in one hand while rubbing his crotch with the other. I followed his gaze to my bottom and suddenly realized that Paul was staring at my ass. I didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t seen me catching him since his eyes were glued to my ass. I must admit I wasn’t properly dressed at the time. I was just in a t-shirt and panties and was prepared to go have a shower when I finished the dishes. Honestly, honey, I thought I’d be done and in the shower by the time Paul got home.
“Okay, what happened next?” I softly prompted.
“Well, the next thing I knew, Paul moves up behind me, shoves his hard on into my crack and gives me a peck on the cheek while squeezing my butt.” I was taken aback by our son’s actions. It was clear to me that that boy needed the kind of help we couldn’t give him. I knew I had to do something before things got out of hand. “And, that’s not all he did, She continued, After I slapped him across his face, he pulled my panties down and smacked my bottom really hard and ran up to his room and locked himself in there. That’s where he’s been all day.” I saw a tear fall down on the bed spread. I knew she was beside herself. And, to be honest, I didn’t like the idea of my wife living in fear in her own house.
This sounded bad and it was high time he got his shit together. “I’m going to have a talk with him, right now.” I said with determination.
“Honey, don’t be too harsh on him. It must be he’s entering puberty and his hormones are all over the place. We were young too once upon a time.”
Yeah, but we didn’t fondle our parents.” I walked out of the bedroom and went down the hall to Paul’s room and banged on his door. I heard some shuffling inside. When the lock on the door sounded, I barged in and found him surprised by my entrance. I saw his computer on and a history book cracked open on the desk.
“Paul, we need to have a man to man talk.” He sat down at his desk ignoring me. “I guess you know why I’m here. Right.” I said sternly. He wouldn’t look up at me. I was about to lift him out of his seat when I spied something under his bed. Sticking out at the side of his mattress, there was what looked like a magazine sticking out. I guess he was looking at that when I banged on the door. I went over to his bed, lifted the mattress and pulled out the magazine.
“Don’t!” he said alarmed as he rushed out of his chair. It was too late, though. I flipped it over to the glossy cover and found myself startled by the title and image on it. The title read: “Anal MILFS.” Below that, there was an older blond woman being anally plowed by a young stud with a pretty big cock. The first thought which came to my mind was how in hell did he get his hand on this smut? My second thought was who gave it to him? I quickly flipped through the pages and saw various mature women getting their asses licked or stretched by well hung guys. How on earth does an 11 year old like older women who are into anal? I didn’t think kids developed a sexual preference until much later in life.
After I finished scanning the pages, I sat down on his bed and looked dead center at him and asked, “Where did you get this trash?” He crossed his arms in defiance and looked to the side out the window. “Paul, you’re too young to even look at stuff like this. I’m going to ask you once more, where did you get this magazine?”
“I’m not telling and you can’t make me.” He leered. Like hell I couldn’t. Sometimes you just have to play hard ball to get the results you want. I stood up and walked toward his computer. He moved out of my way and sat on his bed. Squatting under his desk, I yanked the power cord from the outlet and disconnected the monitor from the case. “You’re grounded for a month with no telephone or computer. Also, our friends are not to come around. You come straight home after school. When you want to let me know who gave you that crap, you know where to find me. Got it!” He shot daggers with his eyes. I could see so much hate in him. “Oh, and another thing, if I ever see or hear that you touched your mother like you did this afternoon, I’m going to be the one touching your ass and it’s going to be with the belt.”
To think, this is how it was going to be for a while. I really thought at that moment that there was something evil in my son. The way his eyes bore into me as I left his room. Sounds dramatic but that was how I felt. The boy was not right upstairs.
I decided it was time to implement a little home security. I began to start recording what goes on around my house when I’m away at work. I remember I bought a camcorder that uses Super VHS tapes. I used it a few times to record family outings and whatnots. This camera supposedly delivered more than 400 lines of resolution. So, I knew I was assured a clear picture of any future attacks on my wife. The lens was only an inch in diameter and easy to conceal. And, with enough ingenuity, I knew it wouldn’t be a problem for me to conceal the whole thing somewhere on the bookshelf in the living room. I thought it best to aim it toward the sofa as that was my wife’s favorite spot to be in the afternoons. A hack from a friend allowed my to change the timer function from a microsecond up if needed. I set it for 2:30 p.m. the following Monday. This is a little before he gets home from school. I had a fresh tape inside so I was good to go. Now I just had to wait and see.
That was Friday evening. Monday rolled by and I was coming into the house around the usual time. I smelled Dorthea’s cooking fill my nostrils as the aroma of food permeated the house. I found her in the kitchen dressed in her thin robe peeling some potatoes in the sink. Her back was to me and I could see the indentation of her ass crack. She seemed distant as I gave her a peck on the cheek. When I put my hand around her waist, she stiffened for a moment and relaxed. I figured something was bothering her and when she felt like it she’d tell me.
“Honey, don’t you think you should put on something else before Paul gets the wrong idea.” I said, as I got a glass of water.
“You know, I never thought about that. I just felt like being comfortable and lost track of time and didn’t give it another thought. You’re right of course. I’ll go up in a second to change.” With that she gave me a peck on the lips and went back to her potatoes. Dinner was delicious as always. Paul sat there at the table hardly speaking two words to me. I tried to engage him in conversation but only got a grunt or two. Over desert, I did notice, however, how Paul gave me what appeared to be a slight smirk. A smirk that someone gives you they have something over you. I don’t think I was being paranoid. I know what I saw. Couple that with the fact that my wife was being unusually quiet as well. Something was going on.
Later on that night, I told Dorthea that I had to finish up some paper work for meeting the next morning and it would only take me an hour or two to finish up. I told her not to stay up for me. I gave her a goodnight peck and left her in bed reading. I made my way down to the living room and retrieved the camera where I had hidden it behind some books. The tape in it was practically to the end. Since it had its own LCD screen attached to it, I wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of hooking up cables to a television.
I walked out to the garage through the connecting door in the kitchen and sat in my car. The tape was already rewinding. It clicked and I pressed play. The image of the living room came on. I saw Dorthea in some tight jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt. Her tits nicely stretched the fabric across her bosom. She was sitting on the sofa painting her toe nails and had her left foot propped on the coffee table. About five minutes later, I could hear Paul walk through the door and plop his schoolbag down on the table beside the door and removes his sneakers as they thumped to the floor.
“Mom, I’m home.” He yelled.
“In here sweetie.” I saw him come into the living room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw his mother’s cleavage open to his hungry gaze as she leaned forward to paint her dainty toe. I have to remember to tell her that she shouldn’t wear such revealing things around our little perv.
“How was school today, baby?” She said without looking up from what she was doing.
“Ah, it was okay. Say mom, can I show you a new magic trick I learned today at school?” Dorthea looked up and smiled.
“Of course you can but give mommy about ten minutes so my toes can dry. Okay?”
“Okay, mom. I’m just gonna go upstairs to get my stuff ready.” By the clock read-out on the screen, Paul came back down fifteen minutes later while Dorthea was air drying her toes. I saw a pair of shiny handcuffs swinging in his hand as he approached the back of the sofa. “I’m ready to show you my trick, mom.” He smiled angelically which brought a big smile from his mother. Mothers can be trusting to a fault.
“Okay, dear. What’s the trick?”
“Well, I need a volunteer and seeing how you’re the only one around.”
“It’s not going to be something scary, is it?
“Mom, who ever heard of a scary magic trick.” He whined.
“You’ve got a point there.” Without giving her chance to come up with any more objections, Paul spoke up in his best imitation of Bob Barker.
“Alright young lady, step right up.” Dorthea got off the sofa and walked up to Paul. “First, you have to get on your hands and knees by the cellar handle, mom. I need to cuff you to it.” The cellar handle was a round, thick ring that served as a handle for a small door that led to a cellar underneath the house. It was used by the owner previous to the one that sold us the house. I had it filled with concrete to provide more support to the foundation. Since the handle was by the fireplace and really didn’t get in the way of anyone tripping over it, I decided to leave it as I didn’t want to destroy the original wood of the floor.
I could see Dorthea was about to protest but one look from the little actor’s face decided for her. She got down on her knees with her elbows touching the floor next to the cellar handle. “Like this, baby?” She looked over her head to see Paul standing right behind her.
“That’s perfect mom.” He said as he secretly eyed her plump ass. Of course, Dorthea couldn’t see the lust written all over his face as I could since she had her back toward him. Paul came around to her front and knelt down on one knee as he proceeded to cuff his mother’s hands together and to the handle.
“Dear, that’s pretty tight. Could you loosen them a little? They hurt my wrists.”
“It has to be that way for the trick, mom. Don’t worry. It won’t take me long—now.” I didn’t like the way he inflected the word “now” for some reason. He stood up and walked behind her upturned ass and pulled some rope out of his back pocket. “Mom, I need you to put your feet together.” She slid them together and he wrapped the rope around her right foot first. She began to panic a little.
“I don’t know about this, honey. Maybe . . .” His rough handling of her feet stopped her mid sentence. I had a bad feeling in my gut.
“Uh, Honey, what do you call this trick?” He ignored her as he turned on his knees and rested his palms on the floor to look under the sofa. He slid his hand underneath and pulled out a magazine. In fact, from what I could tell looking at the viewer on the camera, it was the same porn mag I took away from him. He must have searched high and low until he found it in the night stand in my bedroom. I completely forgot about tossing out. He opened to certain page and laid it on the floor beside her feet.
“Mom, I call this trick the after school snack.”
“The after sch. . .huh!” Dorthea was caught by surprise as Paul clapped his hands on her round cheeks. She yelped at the unexpected touch. He rubbed his hands in circles working in an outward motion from her crack to the sides by her hips. “Paul, what do you think you’re doing? Let me go this instant!” she attempted to move her hands but the cuffs were snapped on too tightly. “Paul, what has gotten into you? Wait till I tell your father about this.” She said.
“That’s why I’m doing this, mom. You had to go tell dad about me copping a feel of your ass. Well, this should teach you a lesson to never rat me out again.” He smacked her right cheek a few times. Dorthea cried out every time his hand made contact with her derriere. He stopped to appreciate the view of his mother’s rear-end. When he shook himself out of his gaze, he knee walked to her side and reached under to unclasp her jeans.
“Wait! What are you doing, Paul?” He ignored her while he struggled with her button. When he managed to pull her zipper down, she tried to reason with him: “Paul, baby, don’t do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you do. Please, just let me go.” All her pleading went on deaf ears as he knee walked behind her again and put his hands on her hips and tugged her jeans down. Because of her position on the floor, he had a difficult time sliding her jeans all the way down. He would work slowly making progress until he had them to her mid-thigh bunched under her perfect back-end.
Unfortunately for her, she was wearing her pink thongs that day, which showed more than concealed. Her delectable cream cheeks were like two halves of a sweet Georgian peach parted by a thin strap. The crease in her vulva was made more evident by the kneeling position she was in. I’ve often heard her type of pussy referred to as a camel toe or something like that. The strap barely covered her pink ass hole as it clung to her sphincter.
Paul seeing a real live woman’s ass in front of him instead of some porn mag stopped him cold. His young eyes never had the pleasure to drink in such a sight, usually reserved for grown men. His arms moved up from his sides with a slight tremble. He clasped her cheeks in his hands and reverently kneaded them like the cookie dough he used to help his mother with when she was in the mood to bake. “Paul, please. This is so wrong. You can’t be doing this to me. If you let me out of these cuffs and untie me, I promise not to tell your father when he gets back from work.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears. She sobbed as he took liberties with her ass only meant for me.
He anchored his thumbs into her ass crack and pried both her cheeks apart, obscenely stretching her puckered hole. I saw his tongue tip wet his upper lip as gazed at her hole like a deer caught in head lights. His breathing was getting faster. He moved his face forward and sunk his teeth into her smooth ass meat. When he moved over to bite her other cheek, I saw the indentations he left on her right cheek. He was about to move his tongue into her crack when, suddenly, he paused. From the looks of his scrunched up nose, I guess he got his first lesson about the reality of a woman’s anatomy, as opposed to the doctored up sluts on those glossy pages of his magazine. Real women had odors especially after doing number two, which he just learned.
But, lust is lust and Paul’s lust overrode whatever stink assaulted his nose. He moved the strap of her thong aside and buried his face deep between her spheres. His grabbed her by the hips as he licked away at her shitter, circling her anus then spearing her shit hole on his tongue tip. Dorthea jumped on that one making the cuffs tear into her wrists. She wiggled to try and break free of his reaming. He pulled out to get some air and with a smile plastered on his face, he dove back in to drill his salivating tongue deeper into her pink pucker. By this time, there was drool sliding down the side of his mouth as he slobbered away like a thirsty dog.
The maelstrom of emotions going through my mind were many. But, one that stood out above all was anger. Boy, when I get my hands on this kid, I swear to you, he won’t be able to walk for weeks. That’s going to be my personal promise between me and him. As embarrassing as it is to admit, the scene unfolding before my eyes had my cock erected like a steel pole.
His eating of her ass slowed down some and then stopped altogether as he reached down with his left hand to turn the pages in the magazine while his right hand held her from moving around too much. She was crying under him with tears dropping to the floor beneath her. I felt bad for her. She didn’t deserve this, especially from her own damn son. This was a violation of her trust.
He put his index finger into his mouth and sucked it for a second to get it nice and wet. He pulled out his wet finger and placed the tip against her starry aperture. She gasped and grunted as he eased his index finger into her back passage. On the first joint he paused transfixed by the sight before him. He sunk down to the second joint and paused again. Then finally, he bore down reaching his knuckle. “Paul, don’t do this, daddy doesn’t even do that to me. Please, it’s dirty.”
“I don’t care. Just sit back and be quiet, mom.” He ordered, as she sobbed and moaned while he sawed his finger in and out of her clutching anus. The cuffs restricted her movement so it was impossible for her to move to and fro. A minute later when he tired of the novelty of fingering his mother’s sphincter, he pulled his finger out and inspected it. I think I saw just a tiny speck of shit on the tip. But I couldn’t be sure. Paul smiled like he thought that was cool. He wiped his soiled finger on the back of her shirt leaving a stained streak. Once again, he reached down and flipped the pages of the magazine. This time, however, his attention was held by one shot in particular. I knew this since it took him a minute to star up again.
He got up and unbuckled his belt separating the two nylon straps. He unzipped his khaki pants and allowed them to fall and bunch up at his feet as he stepped out of them. He kicked his pants back with his heel. At this point he only had his navy blue shirt and white underwear on with his small cock tenting the front. “Paul, what are you going to do? Tell me?” She asked in with quiver in her voice. Again, the little shit refused to answer, making her sweat it out instead. She looked over her shoulder. When he saw that, he slapped her on the rump.
“Look forward, mom. I didn’t say you could look back at me.” And with that, he slid his underwear down and off, exposing his three and a half inch pecker, which stood straight out from his body. Looking down at the mag again for one more look, he got on his knees behind his mother’s upturned ass and grasped her cheeks by the sides as he inched forward on his knees until he had his little cock lined up with her pucker. He pushed forward trying to lodge his cock into her rectal passage. His small ass contracted every time he tried to pierce her sphincter. But for some unknown reason to him, he couldn’t make it in.
I suspect Paul learned another thing about reality at that moment: In real life, you have to lube up a woman’s derriere if you intend to fuck it, or, you have to have enough strength to go in dry. Every woman in that magazine of his was, without a doubt, properly lubricated before taking a cock in their ass. After a couple of failed attempts he yelled out in frustration. “Mom, you better let me in. Open up for me or else.” He threatened. She lay whimpering unable to speak. “Mom, I’m not gonna let you go until you let me in your ass.”
“No, I won’t! I won’t let you defile me or our relationship this way. Do what you want to me but I’ll never let you in.” She screamed with conviction. Not one to be put off, Paul got up, moved his hands on to her lower back for support and tried to penetrate her in a squatting position. He thrust hard with no results. He repeated his attempts at entering her anus, but again, she clenched her rectal muscle barring his entrance. Eventually, he tired from fatigue. If he only knew, he had a perfectly good pussy he could’ve penetrated right underneath. But the magazine was his guide and it only dealt with anal.
I noticed him glance at the clock on the mantle. The gears in his head spinning around until he realized I would be arriving from work within the next half hour. Since he had no other choice, he jerked off over her soft buns and in no time at all, fired off his boy cum all over her naked ass and lower back, yelling out his release.
With enough air in his lungs, he spoke again: “Mom, I’m gonna get you for this tomorrow and you better not tell dad.” What! This little shit had to be kidding. He walked around to her front and uncuffed her. Then he undid her ropes and Dorthea rolled on her side sobbing while he gathered his clothes and magazine. When he got half way up the stairs, he told her to get herself dressed as I would be home soon. There’s a few more minutes of her sobbing, but I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. I shut off the camera and sat contemplating my next move. This little Damien wasn’t our son, he was an abomination. A glance at my watch revealed that it was now a quarter past midnight. I knew it was time to take things into my own hands. No more fucking around! Today after school he will try to pick up where he left off.
And this time, I’ll be ready.
After asking my boss if I could get off early to accompany my wife to a medical appointment, a small lie of course, I got into my car and headed toward Paul’s school. By the looks of the clock in my car, he should be getting out in about ten minutes. I made it in time and pulled up by the exit gate and patiently waited for him. Not long afterwards, I heard the school bell ring followed by a throng of kids rushing out from every exit door the school had. Kids were running to the school bus, their parents, or walking home. I spotted Paul talking with another boy as they walked off the path to the exit gate. He hadn’t seen me as of yet. They said their goodbyes, slapped hands and walked in opposite directions.
Paul was making his way toward the gate when he jerked his head to the side. I saw an older man in his late forties or early fifties approach him. They stood there speaking for about five minutes. The older guy walked off. Paul continued out the gate and I honked the car horn. He looked across the street and spotted me. He looked startled that I would be there to pick him up and not at work. I unlocked the door and he hopped in. Unknown to him, I arranged for Dorthea to be out of the house that afternoon. I told her how I wanted to treat her to something nice. So, I took it upon myself to make an appointment for her at the local beauty salon to get a facial and massage. Her blue eyes sparkled for a brief second. I’m sure it was a small comfort to a mother who was nearly raped the day before by her adolescent son. Finally, with her out of the way, I could address Paul’s evil problem.
“What’s up, Dad? What are you doing here?” He said with a forced smile no doubt hiding his disappointment at not being able to get another crack at his mother’s ass.
“I wasn’t feeling to well and I thought since I was coming this way, I’d give you a ride home. That’s all.” I said in my loving fatherly way. We rode pretty much in silence. When we arrived at the house, Paul got out and went in before me. Once I closed the garage and locked all the doors, I went into the kitchen and found him drinking some fruit juice. He was still gulping his juice when I smacked the glass out of his hands and yanked him by his hair, kicking and screaming as I dragged his ass down the basement stairs. Paul was pleading with me to stop. The adrenaline in my body was running through my veins as images of what he did to his mother flashed through my mind.
Downstairs we had a makeshift family room with a simple television and couch and coffee table. I threw Paul, face down, on the couch cushions. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and a scowl across his face. I took in a deep calming breath before I spoke: “Buddy boy, you listen and you listen good. I know everything that happens in this house when I’m not around. Did you think you could try to rape your mother and get away with it?” His eyes widened in shock at the unforeseen revelation. “Your poor mother didn’t tell me, I had to find out in my own way. The love that woman has for you. Even after what you did to her, she still tried to protect you. That woman is too good to be any mother to you and I’m too good of a husband and father to let it go unpunished.” With that said, I pulled out a thick two-inch belt and watched him cower to the corner of the couch.
“Paul, pull down your pants—now! If I have to do it for you, you’re going to get five extra whacks from this belt. The choice is yours, and I’m not asking twice.” He saw I meant what I said just by the fire in my eyes. I saw him glance at the door behind me as if he was weighing his options for escape. In the end, he knew that would be futile. He stood up and took his time unbuckling his belt. He let his pants drop around his sneakers. “The underwear as well. Now!” Again, images of the video flashed in my mind which only fueled my anger. “Turn around and face the wall.” Now, some of you might criticize what I’m about to do. You might see it as a form of child abuse, and I can understand that. But, when you consider the evil that dwells in this boy’s soul, you may not be so quick to condemn me.
I walked over behind him and grabbed him by the left arm in a crushing grip. When I felt I had him tightly in my grasp, I swung the belt across white cheeks. He wailed as I tore into his tender flesh. SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, and SLAP, on and on and on. I didn’t even hear his cries as I became one with the belt which administered his due. I was in my zone as I laid into him. What seemed like ten minutes to me was, in fact, just two or three. I took a breather and started all over again. I stopped after the third round. And let me tell you, the damage to his ass was evident. His cheeks were fiery read with tiny blood clots forming over the hump of his ass. I knew he wouldn’t be sitting for a good long while. I felt bad deep down inside since he was still my son, but what would you have me do. He’s too young to go to jail but not young enough not to know the difference between right and wrong.
He collapsed on the couch bawling his eyes out. “Paul, I got no pleasure doing that to you. You disrespected your mother and me. I asked you once before, who gave you that magazine. You refused to answer me then. So I’m asking again.” He kept on crying. “Very well, a word of advice before I go, as you get older and start dating, if you think women want to be treated the way you treated your mother yesterday, then you’re going to get a big shock in life. Paul—I don’t know who you are anymore.”
I turned and left him sobbing as I went to his bedroom in search of that damn magazine. It took all of half an hour until I spotted it in his dresser drawer under his shirts. I went to the shredder in the garage that I kept for destroying bills and other personal documents and began to shred each page. Once the deed was done, I went to liquor cabinet and fixed myself a drink, waiting for Dorthea to return. Paul eventually came up and saw me sitting on the sofa in the living room. He was about to head up to his room until I stopped him: “Paul, you will not mention any of this to your mother. Understood?” He squinted his eyes and scowled while grunting his response.
I took a swig from the highball I had in my hand wondering what was to come next. Hard, fast decisions had to be made since my son was an unknown variable to me. I couldn’t just take him at his word anymore. My wife was at risk of being raped again, maybe even impregnated by him if I wasn’t careful. When my wife got home, I complimented her looks. I ordered out Chinese telling her she should just relax. I saw the undercurrent of fear etched into her face as she probably wondered if Paul would be raping her tomorrow. With a lot of soul searching that night in bed, I came to a decision and slept on it.
Upon arising in the morning before heading out to work, I called my lawyer and left his answering service a message that I wanted to set up a meeting with him. He phoned me back at work around 9:30 and offered me an appointment with him the next afternoon during my lunch hour. As a precaution, I still keep the camera on just in case he went back to his old ways.
I arrived at the legal offices of Miller, Petrucci & Davis at 12:00 p.m. promptly. His secretary, Anya, brought me into his office. We shook hands and sat down. “So, Jim, what brings you to me? You sounded very serious on the phone yesterday.” He said sincerely.
“Well, it’s like this, Bob, Paul is not doing so well. He’s not behaving—I don’t know what you want to call it, ‘normally’ I guess.” Bob could hear the strain in my voice as I searched for a way to tell him.
“Jim, I’m here for you and my full legal staff is at your disposal. We go back sometime and I consider you more than just a friend.”
“Thanks, Bob, I feel the same way.” He raised his finger to stop me and buzzed Anya and told her to bring us something cool to drink. She soon came in with some refreshments and quickly departed, but not before giving me a cheerful smile. When I heard the door shut, I started again.
“Bob, what I’m about to tell you has to remain between us. Dorthea can never know that I was here talking to you about this. I think it would be source of great shame for her.”
“You don’t have to worry about anything, Jim. All things said in this office will be handled with the strictest confidentiality and professionalism. You have my word and my license if I don’t.” He smiled trying to bring in some levity. I appreciated that.
“Where do I start. Okay, not too long ago, Dorthea approached me about how Paul was making some sexual advances not becoming of a son. She told me how one day after school he came up behind her and grabbed her bottom while she was in the kitchen washing dishes.” Bob gave a slight nod of his head indicating that I should continue. “When she told me of this, it seemed to confirm a long held suspicions of mine that Paul had a deep rooted Oedipus Complex.”
“How long have you had this suspicion, Jim?” He said.
“I think ever since that time I caught him demanding that Dorthea allow him to suckle her breasts when he was 5.”
“I see. Go on then.”
“Well, I told her I would have a talk with him straight away which is what I did. I found him in his room and was prepared to tell him the rights and wrongs of his action when I a magazine hiding under his mattress caught my eye. I couldn’t believe it but this kid had one of those glossy porn mags you usually see sealed at a newsstand fro $20 dollars. The entire magazine was about mature women who were into anal sex.” I said. I saw Bob’s eyes widen momentarily betraying his calm demeanor.
“Then what did you do?” He said back to his calm self.
“I told him if I ever saw him with that trash again, I’d threaten to give him a whopping he’d never forget.” I said, a little too forcefully, as the memories of the video surfaced. “I don’t know, but for some reason, I left with a feeling Paul was not going to obey me. Call it a hunch. So, I set up a camera hidden in the living room in case he did try to do something again to Dorthea. That was this past Friday. When Monday came around, I found the dinner conversation a bit too strained for my taste. This had the effect of setting off a bunch of alarms in my head. At that point, I decided to view what I had on the camera in hopes of getting a better picture of what went on when I was at work.” I took a deep breath to collect my thoughts before proceeding.
“When Dorthea got ready for bed, I made up some excuse to stay up and finish some paper work for a meeting. I retrieved the camera from its hiding spot and went to the garage. I didn’t want her knowing I did this. What I saw on that tape, no father should ever have to witness.” I took a drink of some kind of sparkling orange water Anya had left me and continued. “Paul had shackled Dorthea to the floor under the guise of some kind of magic trick and managed to get her bottom half naked and attempted to perform anal sex on her.” Bob’s eyebrow shot up on that one. I could see the concern in his face as he personally knew Dorthea. You see he was married to her cousin. He took a moment to digest my story until he was ready to speak.
“Jim, that is quite an account and one I must say that has left me a bit unsettled. A boy to do such a callous thing to his own mother is not only immoral but unconscionable. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling and going through. You’ve come to me for some kind of help and I want to do that for you, so what is it you want from me?”
“Paul is 11 now and I want to know if he is too young to be put into some kind of reformatory school or clinic of some kind.” I said. He sighed with burden this knowledge brought to him.
“Let’s see, under the laws of this state, Paul would be classified by the juvenile courts
as incorrigible before he engaged in the attempted rape of Dorthea. Now that he’s done that, he is classified as a juvenile delinquent and can be put away for his crime to a long-term detention center. Professionals will try to rehabilitate him and when he reaches his 18th birthday, he will be released. If you really want it done, I can have the papers drawn up for you to sign by tomorrow, but I rather you talk this over with your wife before we proceed as her signature will be needed as well.”
I told him to get everything prepared and that I’d talk with Dorthea tonight. When I broke the news about the video I possessed and the visit to the lawyer, she just broke down and cried. After a lot of talking and hugging and crying, in the end, we decided it was for the best. She realized she couldn’t live in fear under the same roof with Paul. We saw Bob the next day and and finalized everything. By Friday morning, the people from the center sent a van over to pick up Paul. His final words to us before he was dragged away by one of the burly orderlies was, “I hate both of you and I never want to see you again!” That cut into Dorthea’s heart like a sharp dagger. She cried for days after that. After a time, things began to return to the way they used to be. I know she felt lonely without Paul around the house.
We were kept apprised of his progress for a number of years. We did make many attempts to visit but he would not see or speak to us. When he reached his 18th birthday, he was released and shacked up with my brother who wasn’t told the truth about his assault on his mother. He still resented us as I found out through the family vine.
Coming back full circle, I finished up with the dusting in our home office and went downstairs to relax a little and watch some TV, when I remembered the package I got today. I went to the small table by the door to retrieve it. The square package was about the size of a paperback book wrapped in ordinary brown paper. I tore it open to find a white box. When I took the lid off, there was a VHS tape inside. I picked up the remote and clicked on the tube while inserting the tape into the VCR.
I took a seat on the sofa and waited. The first couple of seconds were blank then the date flashed. This film, according to that date, was two months ago. The dark screen broke into a picture of someone’s kitchen. My son Paul came into the shot and walked to a counter. He took popped the lid to a bottle of wine and poured some of its contents into two glasses. I saw him checking over his shoulder as if he was expecting someone to come behind him. He pulled out a small bag from a drawer under the counter top which had an orange colored powder in it. He opened the small clear bag and scooped out a teaspoon of the powder and mixed it into one of the glasses and vigorously stirred.
He stopped stirring and put the stuff away in the drawer. He sat on a cushioned stool and sipped at his wine. “Is that for me, dear?” I heard a voice that sounded familiar to me. Then, to my utter surprise, Dorthea walks in dressed in a fancy cocktail dress I bought for her for special occasions. It was a hot red number with a tight bodice that accented her hips and ass with thin spaghetti straps. The dress showed a normal amount of cleavage with a scooped back. I thought she looked so sexy every time she wore it. But, what the hell was she doing at some strange house with Paul wearing it now. And more importantly, what did he put into her drink?
“You know, Mom. You look so lovely in that dress. I’ll bet you’ll drive all the men crazy tonight at the restaurant.” He said with a smirk.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. But I’m so happy you’re not mad at me anymore. I have missed you terribly and now that I have you back, I realize how much of a mistake it was to let you go to that awful place.” She said misty eyes.
“C’mon, Mom. It wasn’t all that bad.” “Besides, he said as he pulled her in for a hug, if it weren’t for you and dad, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. So let’s forget about it and move on. Okay?” He held her at arms length by her shoulders to emphasize his point. She nodded her head and they embraced. “Now that that is settled, let’s have a drink before we head out.” With that he raised his glass in the air to make a toast: “To the most beautiful and wonderful mother a guy could have. I love you, mom.” Dorthea blushed a little and drank a few sips.
“Paul, I sure wish you could forgive your dad. I didn’t like making up some story about having to go out with the girls to some formal. Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive and forget? She asked with a glint of hope. Now it came back to me. I remember Dorthea telling me she had a formal to attend and it was a girl’s night only. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought.
“Mom, I need some time in order to do that. Give me a little more time. I’ll come around. Just not right now.” She accepted his words with a half smile. “Don’t be sad. Drink up and let’s enjoy our time together.” He kicked back his head and downed the contents of his glass. Dorthea, not to be outdone, did the same. They spoke some more about what he did with his time at the center.
About eleven minutes passed before I began to notice the glazed look in her eyes. She mumbled and slurred her speech. Suddenly, her face took on took on a very relaxed appearance. Then her eyes slowly closed as she fell face down into Paul’s lap who caught her by the shoulders. He pushed her up and lifted her over his left shoulder and carried her off screen somewhere.
After a few seconds he came back and adjusted the camera to the right where Dorthea was sitting on a plush beige sofa. The left strap of her dress had fallen down her arm. Paul walked around to the back of the sofa and stood behind his mother. He bent at the waist, paused and looked ahead at the camera and gave me an evil grin.
He pulled down her right strap over her smooth shoulder until it fell in the crook of her arm. The dress fell beneath her breasts which were encased in a black demi bra. Her soft freckled bosom swelled under the pressure of the form-fitting bra. Paul reached down sliding his hands over her cups, relishing the smooth feeling of her satiny bra. He reached to the front and unhooked her bra until the cups separated in his sweaty paws. He slowly moved them apart allowing her huge breast to spill out one at a time. He almost choked at the size of them forgetting that he once nursed at them.
He reached down and cupped her big mammaries into his hands, gently needing them as his thumbs flicked the tips of her stiff nipples. He hefted them while bringing his head down. I couldn’t see what he was doing since the crown of his head was blocking my view. When I heard the first popping sound, I knew he was sucking her tit. This when on for a few more sucks and then he began to bring his head up with his mother’s nipple still attached to his lips, pulling her tit up toward the ceiling. The blue veins around her areolas became more prominent as he did this. Surprisingly, for a woman with such large breasts, I could hardly make out any stretch marks. Paul increased his sucking power, forming her tit into a fat fleshy gumdrop. He hung on for as long as he could but his mother’s tit was too big and heavy for him to keep suspended any longer. He released her nipple and watched how her breast bounced and jiggled at the bottom of its decent. The bumps surrounding her nipple protruded more than normal at this point.
He gave the same treatment to her right tit, devouring her creamy orb with loud sucking sounds. Sated for the time being, he moved his mother to a reclining position on the sofa. His hands tugged at the material of her dress. He yanked from around her waist and pulled with one mighty heave removing her dress completely. She lay there naked from the waist up with wearing those damn thongs that she loves so much. She had on simple but sexy black thigh high stockings and sexy beige low heeled sandals.
Paul stood there taking in her mature beauty. I could see his cock forming a large tent in his trousers. When he snapped out of it, he reached under her smooth ass cheeks and pulled her off his mother’s panties. Dorthea began to moan some while he did this. Her head moved a bit and then she went back into her slumber.
Beads of sweat began to form on my brow. The tension in my hands evident as I tightly clutched the arm rests of my chair. Even though it’s right in front of me as plain as day, I still can’t believe he is going to rape his own mother. There had to be some decency left in him. Would he actually mate with his own mother, my beautiful wife?
Movement on the screen grabbed my attention. Paul was separating his mother’s meaty thighs. He lifted her left leg over the back of the sofa and slid her right up to a ninety degree angle with her body. He got on his knees between her legs and lowered his head to take in her heady aroma. His nostrils flared as he took deep inhalations of her feminine musk. He moved his mouth over to her right thigh and kissed and sucked her fleshy interior from the base to the inside of her knee, repeating the process over again. He sniffed at her pussy again as he made his way to her left thigh and did the same thing he did with her right. When he was done, his fingers began to part her swollen lips exposing the pink flesh of her cunt meat. He faced the camera at that moment and said, “Dad, how could you have kept this woman, my mother, all to yourself? My mouth is watering just by the sight of her.”
With that, he dove into her slit and lapped from the bottom of her slit to her clit, using the flat surface of his tongue like a dog that licks his owners face. Paul’s tongue wiggled its way through the center of her vulva moving aside her chunky lips as he made his way to her fat clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it. He hooked his index and middle fingers into her wet cavern to pry her lips apart to the point that if she were awake, she’d be screaming her head off. She did moan some as he held her lips and lapped all around the walls of her slick vagina, lubricating them more with his saliva. He ate away like it was the chef’s special at a five star restaurant, slurping and gulping at this forbidden dish.
When he had his fill, he repositioned his mother to where she was leaning against the back of the sofa with her legs apart, feet touching the floor. He unbuttoned his white polo shirt and tossed it aside revealing a chiseled pack of abs. He unbuckled his slacks just like he did all those years ago when he cuffed his mother and tried to anally penetrate her. His slacks pooled at his feet. He was wearing no underwear. My god, he had a cock that belonged on a horse. It must’ve been a good ten or so inches in length with fat veins coiled around mostly from the middle to the head of his dick. The really shocking thing about his dick wasn’t even the length—it was the girth! It had to have been three fat fuckin’ inches across. This wasn’t a cock; it was a python. He stepped out of his slacks and walked over to his sleeping mother.
He got between her outstretched legs, bent down at the waist, grabbed his mother by the top of her thighs and dragged her ass to the edge of the sofa. He went down on his knees resting them on the cushions near the outside of her cheeks. His cock laying over her pubes. He pushed her legs back till her knees were resting next to her shoulders. From my angle, I could only make out the two humps of her ass separated by her wet fur lined slit and her pink ass hole underneath it. His balls were totally shaved and looked pretty full. Paul shifted his body down a bit so his beast could line up with her pussy. He moved the dome head of his cock into position resting on her lips. He turned one last time at the camera and grinned before he defiled his mother and took them both to incestual hell.
With a gentle shove, he snaked the head of his dick into her wet cunt lips. Even unconsciously, her muscles strained under the assault from her son’s massive cock-head. Her meaty lips snapped tight around his head as lodged it into her opening. They both moaned from the illicit coupling. With another push, he sank down a little further as Dorthea’s eye lids began to flutter. She let a long moan in her sleep as he slid half his cock into her moist depth. He pulled out about an inch showing the line which divided wet from dry on his fat slug. He pushed in again boring deeper into her channel until her womb blocked his entrance. I noticed he still had an inch more to go.
Not one to accept defeat after waiting so long, Paul’s ass cheeks tensed as tried to burrow into her womb. She screamed out as his head must’ve lodged into her baby making chasm. His heavy balls came to rest on her sweet pucker. I was glad that she was drugged at the moment as that would have any woman screaming to the hospital. She mumbled something. Enjoying the sensation of being balls deep within his busty mother, he took his sweet ass time pulling all the way out to the head before plunging into her wetness again. He kept up this pace as he really got into fucking his unsuspecting mother. Sweat drops slid along his back as he grunted his way through the place he came out of so long ago. His shaft produced a white, milky froth which covered the underside of his cock. When he thrust in, some of it spilled out on to her inflamed pussy lips as he began to plow her into the cushions.
I could hear his hips smacking against her ass cheeks as he picked up the pace. His mother moaned a few times when he went deep. Her lips clung to his member massaging his dick every time he pulled out. By the sound of his breathing, I knew it wasn’t going to be long now.
“Fuck, mom. You’re so tight and wet. I’m almost there, b-baby. It’s comin’.” He really started to pile drive her. After a few thrusts, Paul shoved all the way into her cervix, threw his head back and roared his release as his balls began to twitch uncontrollably pumping his mother full of his scalding baby making cream. His asshole would twinge each time he fired his seed into her sopping hole. When he emptied himself, he fell on top of his mother and laid his head between her massive jugs catching his breath.
He rested up for about two minutes before he got off of her pulling his cock out with a slurp. His dick dripped her juices onto the floor. My wife’s hole looked as if a wine bottle had been stuck in there. It was gaping open at least three inches across in diameter. I’ve never seen a sight like that.
Paul went over to the camera, picked it up and walked back to his mother. He zoomed into her yawing hole, giving me a clear shot into her pink depths. The walls of her red cunt were lined with thick cum oozing back toward her cervix coming together into a thick pool of milky white cream. Her sex was inflamed and engorged with blood. All of a sudden screen went blank.
At this point I was about press stop on the remote thinking the show was over when the camera came back on. The image was of my wife face down on a bed. Fuck face must’ve carried her into a bedroom while he rested up. He stepped into the view of the camera with his stiff cock slashing the air. My wife’s legs were apart revealing her abused slit and pink sphincter. He got on the bed and ran his hands over her smooth round ass, parting her cheeks as he lustfully gazed at her rosy pucker. He drooled all over her shitter, and then licked it up before it slid down to her leaking cunt.
He used both hands to pry her cheeks apart. The tight ring of her ass buckled under the pressure and gaped open. His eyes rounded as he stared down into the dark tunnel of her rectum. With his left hand he kept her hole opened while he thrusted two fingers from his right into her shit chute. He pulled them out and inserted them into his mouth and sucked them off. I dry heaved on that one. No longer interested in eating from his fingers, he put his mouth straight to the source and lapped away at her sphincter before sinking half his tongue and swiping the walls of her rectum. He moaned while he slobbered over his desert for the evening. Nasty fuck!
When he finally had his fill of his mother’s ass, he got off the bed and walked off the view of the camera. I heard the noise of a drawer opening and closing. Paul came back with a hand size tub of something with a spout on the top. He pumped the spout a few times and a clear gel fell into his hand. He laid the tub on the floor by the bed and got up nest to his mother’s heart-shaped ass. Again, he looked at the camera and smirked. Then slathered the gel into the crack of her ass he spoke:
“Dad, this is what I’ve really been wanting to do for a long time now. I used to dream about it practically every night at that center you sent me to. I used to wonder how tight this cherry asshole would feel around me cock. Just talking about it makes me want to cum so bad. What do you think of your boy now, dad? Do you think he’s rehabilitated enough for you? I think I am. Let me prove it to you.”
Resting on his knees, he began to push the index finger of his right hand into her anus. Then he used his index and middle finger together, making sure to loosen her up. When he was done, he wiped his hands on a towel he had handy and laid on his back next to his mom. He reached to his side and dragged her limp body over his torso. It took some effort on his part, but after a few grunts, he managed it in the end. Now with her body draped over him, he gripped the back of her knees pulled her legs in under her. With his fat cock in hand, he parted her fleshy ass with his large mushroom head as it sought out it’s hole like a snake looking to burrow for the night.
Paul didn’t bother to lube his cock. I assume because he wanted to feel it more. When his cock-head was lined up with her starry shit hole, he thrust his hips up as the head penetrated her tight ring. She moaned as he made progress into her back passage obscenely stretching her pink anus to the point where I thought it might tear at any moment. Her pretty little sphincter lines were all stretched out into a smooth pink ring enclosing his dick. He grunted every time he made sank another inch into her inner sanctum. His hands roughly split her cheeks apart making her pussy spill the last of his semen onto his balls and the comforter below. When he finally had her totally impaled on his fuck stick, he latched onto her meaty nipple and began to suck as he pumped her ass with his log. Each thrust making her cheeks ripple into waves as he slammed into her ass. His balls looked painfully tight as they rolled to the sides of his nut sack with each thrust of his hips.
Paul relentlessly pounded her for the next five or so minutes as he violated a hole that was off limits to me. The excitement of fucking his mother’s ass must’ve been too much for him because all too soon, he yelled out his release as he injected ropes of cum into her bowels. I counted at least seven shots from the looks of his contracting balls. His soiled cock eventually softened and plopped out, landing with a thud on his thigh. His cum dripped onto his stomach.
He shot me the finger and smiled. Then gently rolled his mother onto her back and walked over to the camera. He shoved his face to the lens and said, “Hope you enjoyed the show, dad. I told you I would get even at both of you locking me up like that. Don’t bother trying to find me. I’m leaving town today. By the time you receive this it’ll be too late. Thanks again dad for letting me borrow mom. Tell mom I had a blast.”
The image went blank.
Like I said before, the film showed a date of about two months ago. My wife never mentioned it to me probably because she was drugged. I thought it best not to say anything about it on my end as I think the news would kill her. As for my son, Paul. Well, I did find out he got into some nasty trouble selling drugs two towns over from us and is now at our local penitentiary. He probably never thought he’d wind up in jail when he mailed this tape to me.
My son performed a lot of miscalculations on his part. Here’s one in particular I’ll tell you about: Remember that older man who was talking to Paul a few years back when I was waiting for him to exit from school the day I gave him a beating. Well, that, as I found out later, was Mr. Wilson. He’s a known child molester. And it turns out that he was the one who gave Paul that anal magazine and filled his mind full of nasty thoughts about his mother.
Mr. Wilson is currently serving a twenty-four year sentence for raping a boy. And as luck would have it, he happens to be housed in the very same prison as my Pauly. Imagine my disappointment when news reached me that poor Mr. Wilson never got a crack at my son’s ass. Well, with a few strings pulled here and there and fate being what it is, I arranged for good Ol’ Mr. Wilson to finally get his shot at Paul’s sweet buns. From what he told me over the phone, it’s prime stuff and there’s nothing like it for him. I especially liked the part when he mentioned that on some nights, he collects some of the bigger inmates too partake of my son. He chuckled how it can turn into a free for all when the other inmates get in on it.
My friends, I truly wish it never had to go down this way, but now that it has, I feel much better knowing my son will be in the caring hands of a one Mr. Jonas Wilson, child molester extraordinaire.
P. S. I’m glad I could bring some comfort into Jonas Wilson’s life. But, he better live it up while he still can because me and him have a score to settle with each other. After all, if it weren’t for his twisted fuckin’ ways, my son would’ve been a productive member of society by now.
I hear there’s a great deal going on at the prison. Two big bubbas for rent that’ll take care of any man for a small fee of five cigarette cartons. Who could pass up a deal like that!