This happened a long time ago ... and probably would hold never happened if my dad had n't travelled so much and my mom was n't as beautiful as she was ... is.

I was 19. She was 37, petite, beautiful, foresightful silky red hair that framed the blench tegument of her face perfectly. She had lentigo that broke like a rusty galaxy across her tip-tilted nose and in high spirits cheeks. I was the Malus pumila of her eye, her only child. Yes, she doted on me. I was strong, smart and very popular in eminent School ... I was now carving out my place as a loss leader among the freshman at the small, private college I went to in Peoria. cypher remotely intimate had ever bubbled up between us. She was mom. I was son. That bound had never been challenged, until this night.

Dad was on the road again. My mother, Del, sat next to me on the couch watching a fairly scary movie. She was wearing this night dress of her 's that was not very unveil, but showcased her body in a very wholesome, yet erotic luminousness. She had drank nearly a bottle of red wine by herself as the movie crept along. Even though I was only 19, she and my dad was okay with my drinking a few beers here and there, but tonight I had picked up a bottle of Lophophora williamsii. What she did n't know was that I had picked up a bit of a C habit at school, and in between the boring fit of the repugnance flick, I was sneaking into the bathroom to do a gibbosity or two.

I was getting bed up.

Sitting next to her, I started seeing her as a cleaning woman ... .not just as my mom. I could see her nipples pushing up against the fabric of her night shirt. Her hair's-breadth was hanging across her face and, suddenly, it looked so sensual, so glossy, so thick. Her center were locked on the screen of the t.v., following every twist in the plot.

I casually raised my hand and took a long lank of her hair in my hand.

'' Mom, `` I said, `` You want to hear something strange I learned about girls at school ? '' I began rotating my hand, coiling the length of her hair around my fist.

'' Sure. I can only imagine what you 've been learning from those sluts. '' She replied.

'' loose woman ? Why do you call them sluts ? '' I laughed.

'' Instagram, SnapChat, Twitter ; they all compete for followers and ready to do anything to get them, '' she added. `` They 've objectified themselves. All they care about is whether or not someone finds them attractive enough to hit, `` abide by. ``

Her eyes had been darting back and Forth from me to the television silver screen as she said this. gleaming, dark blackamoor optic jumping from me to the movie. I now had her hairsbreadth tightly wrapped around my hand by the time she finished her diatribe regarding my female classmates. She had no approximation where my head was. Had no idea how the mescal had seeped into the darkest recession of my Einstein. Had no idea where I was going with the conversation.

'' You 're rectify about all that, mom, but that was n't what I was talking about. I 've learned that some women hate to have their haircloth touched, and others like to have it pulled. '' And with that, I jerked my hired hand around in such a way, that I could sense most of her hair cinch more tightly around my clenched fist. `` Which type are you, mom ? Do you freak out when someone touches her pilus, or do you like it pulled, like a scalp massage ? ``

'' Ouch, Michael ... .be a little more easy. '' Her school principal fell forward then as I tightened my grip. My left handwriting joined my right, and together began to gently stiffen her red twist very tight.

'' I 'll be assuage mom, but separate me, do you like the way that flavour ? '' I asked, feeling the Mezcal and Cocaine surging through my mind. Her hair felt like ropes of silk in my mitt. fuck. I felt stemma surging to my cock. Stiffening beneath the harmless cotton of my sweatpants.

'' Any woman would care that kind of massage, Michael, if it was done gently- ''

I twisted my handwriting, pulling her hair more tightly around my hands. `` I 'm not talking about gently, mom. I 'm saying that some little girl hate having their hair pulled in any way, and others ca n't get enough of it. '' I pulled my script up so that her face was stratum with my own. I was drunkard, and I was looking into my my mother 's aphrodisiacal center, glowing blue from the light of the t.v.

'' I 've learned that those that like to have their hair pulled, like to be pushed into thing. Forced into matter. '' When I twisted my hands this time, there was no situation for her hair to go. `` I 've learned that when a girl feels that she has no option, she can be led to do anything, mom. '' I turned her brass to look at my crotch which was now very egotistic. `` They ca n't blame themselves, they have to follow directions when their hair is pulled this tight. '' I forced her face down to my shaft, `` They are not responsible for their own actions, mom, they have to do what they are told. '' I pulled my mother 's face down to my lap, and rubbed her brass against my insanely hard cock. `` When I do this to them, mom, they do n't put up much of a fight. They let me do this. ``

The Mezcal and C were hitting me now very hard. I angled her sassing to the bump in my pants, and then pressed down, making her `` buss '' my shaft, from the base, all the way up to the tip. `` Why do they let me do that, mom ? Why do they let me impel them to sop up my cock. '' I turned her face back up to take on my middle, while I quickly untied the bowed stringed instrument of my pants, letting my rooster give up. The peter and head reared up suddenly, literally blocking her face from me. Precum was streaming from the tip and running down the beam in thick, clear rivlets. I tightened my handle on her hair and raised her head up so that I could look her in the eye.

'' You know what I think, mom ? I think you 're one of those young lady who likes to have her hair pulled. That 's what I think. '' She met my eyes but said zippo. Did not resist. Did not campaign. Even when I released one of my workforce out of her pilus, and pushed my finger onto her chin ... opening her mouth. This fucking gripe, I thought, she is going to drink a lot of cum tonight. I slid just the very tip of my prick into her mouth and felt her natural language swirl along the foreland, lapping up my precum. I saw the head of my putz disappear between her lips, along with much of the shaft. I could see her center clearly now. I pulled her down further. I could find the point of my pecker gibbousness against the cover of her throat ... but I was n't stopping there. I saw her eyebrows heave as I pushed her head down on my cock and felt it pop through her gullet and into the satin oestrus of her throat. She never said a word ... well, she couldn't.

I can not tell you how amazing it feels to have your Lucille Ball bottom out against your beautiful mother 's fanny lip. Or the feeling when you pull your shaft back and experience the pop of the question of your stopcock leaving her throat. And the look of mental confusion, terror and capitulation as you tighten your grip in her hair and pull her back to you, feeling the squishy head teacher penetrate her throat over and over again. I can not secernate you how difficult it is to keep yourself from cumming as you fuck your mother 's throat. I could n't kibosh myself. All my sentience were on overload and I felt my turncock preparing to open the overflow gates. I pulled my cock out of her throat so that only the tip was lodged between her beautiful rim, and I came. Staring into her eyes, I felt my trunk clutches in mellisonant torment with each burst of cum I released into her mouth. Felt her backtalk study on me, swallowing each rope of cum I fed to her. We all have that list of the 10 in effect orgasms we 've ever had ... this ranks at the very top to this day.

I was not shy. I did not forfend her after this happened. virtually of the time, all I had to do was rest my hand on shoulder and she would drift down to her knee, her mouth open and ready to service me. But, sometimes, I had to wrap up her tomentum around my fist and force her to her knees. I think she liked that best.

My dad returned home a few Clarence Day later. They went to bed. I was in my room drinking and doing lines. Around 3:00 am, I crept into their bedroom naked and hard. I raised the duvet and slid under it, wedging myself between my mother 's legs. I raped her then. Laying next to my sire. She tried to bend away, but I was already bass inside her. `` plosive. '' I whispered in her ear. I felt her human knee raise and part, my cock sunk just a little profoundly inside. I covered her lips with my own, and felt her spit slide into my rima oris. `` Dirty whore. '' I thought. I fucked her then. Slow. Deep. Hard. We came at the same prison term. I felt my mother 's twat contract around my shaft and I filled her with my cum. My god. She became such a slut for me. She likes to have her haircloth pulled. She never said a parole ...