My name is Oliver, Ollie to my friends. Every boy reaches a point in his life when he turns his back on the years of his youth and steps into a new era.
I reached that point a week before my 18th birthday.
As I walked the halls and corridors of the complex of buildings that had been my home for the past six years I thought back to when I came here. I had just turned twelve when I arrived at the school. A nervous, weedy, gangling boy.
My growth had outgrown my strength and I had the physical appearance of a nerd. Insecure, my best company was myself.
Home life had not been easy or happy. I have not been home since I arrived here, six ago.
My mother was only 17 when I was born, my father was 22. From the beginning he hated the sight of me, I was the last thing he wanted in his life, my mother being a close second. He was the only son of a very wealthy banking family. Old money begat new money and that in turn generated more money, a never ending cycle. The only thing it could not buy was a son with a human streak.
My father grew up having everything a young man could wish for in life.
The only areas in which he failed was his total lack of conscience and any degree of empathy. His misfortune is to be, "vertically challenged." All 5ft 4ins tall and puny, he suffers from a bad dose of short man syndrome. He makes up for it by being obnoxious, mean and a total bastard.
He had knocked my mother up and, so far as he was concerned, it was her problem, nothing to do with him. One thing led to another and he got the shock of his life when his committed Catholic father told him that he would marry the girl, or he would be disinherited.
2
His God was, and still is, money.
Having to choose to marry and keep the money, or spurn the girl and have no money, well that was a non-starter. Money won the day.
He married her, did not fuck her to consummate the union, and thereafter ignored her and treated her like shit.
That attitude was then also applied to me when I arrived six months later. I was told that he took one look at me and never so much as glanced at me again. I did not exist.
They had separate lives, separate beds, separate wings in a very large house. His life was business and leisure. Hers was constant humiliation and bullying.
Growing up in that environment drove me very close to my mother. I worshipped her.
She was not allowed to have friends. He even told people that she was mentally ill, and he had hired a psychiatric nurse to look after her. He told everyone that her 'condition' meant no visitors allowed.
It was all bullshit, but the less people saw of my mother, they less they thought about her. She was all but forgotten.
I had home tutoring and never left the estate. There was no contact with other children, I was just a vague memory in the minds of a very few people.
The only other people Mom and I saw were our housekeeper and groundsman, a lovely couple, Mr & Mrs MacInnes.
They had worked for my grandfather and when he died, they just remained as part of the scene, but now working for my father. They treated me very well. Because of their Scottish background they called me Wee Ollie.
Mrs. Mac. was like a grandmother to me, always giving me treats from her baking when I was in the kitchen. Mr. Mac. was the only man in my life, other than tutors, that spoke to me. My father simply did not acknowledge me.
3
Mr. Mac. talked to me about the natural world and taught me many things about life on the estate, which was largely given over to shooting parties that made sport out of blasting defenceless birds out of the sky. Birds that had been specially reared to die like that, driven from their roosts and ground cover into the range of the guns. Those 'enjoying the sport' were always business clients of my father. I never heard of him having proper friends. Normal people hated him for his arrogance and rudeness.
He knew that he was disliked, but in his warped mind money would be all he needed to be accepted.
These 'hunting' jerks had no choice but to pretend they were his friends, they needed his money in their business lives. Being a ruthless bastard, he could, and would, bankrupt them if they said anything that offended him. To ask about his wife was as no-no.
They never asked about me, probably they did not know of my existence.
All these shooters were much taller men than my shorty father. I guess that was what turned him on, big men having to take shit from a squirt, because the squirt had the financial power to break them.
Being largely unaware of an outside world I lived quite happily, but as I grew older, I sensed that something was wrong. My mother almost never smiled.
Shortly before my 12th birthday she told me that I would be going away to a boarding school to complete my education. That was a real shock and I said I wanted to stay with her.
She explained that I, and she, had no choice in the matter. I was to go to the same school my father had attended. It was not local, it was a few thousand miles away, in a foreign country.
My father had never spoken a word to me since I was born. Even on the day I left, accompanied by my mother, he did not appear, let alone say goodbye.
Well, to cut a long story short, I arrived at the school six years ago, frightened and very nervous, and found myself among 400 other boys ranging in age from 12 to 18. They were from countries all around the world.
It was a huge shock, I was an only child, now I was thrown into this whirlpool.
4
Mr. Mac. had talked to me about how I should cope. He told me to keep my head down for a couple of months and take my time picking the boys I wanted to know better. He also told me to participate in everything. I was not to shy away from any sport or activity as, he told me, my willingness will be recognised, respected and increase my popularity. He told me to never be arrogant with my achievements, to always make sure a weaker boy on any team I was in got his fair share of any accolades. Above all, he told me to make a point of being fulsome and sincere in my praise of others.
On the day I was leaving he took me on a walk across the estate and gave me his final advice.
"Wee Ollie, when you are a senior at the school you must treat the juniors with respect. Be an example to them. Protect them from bullies. Never expect them to do something that you would not be prepared to do yourself. Be cheerful, and a gentleman in all you do. Make your mother proud pf you."
I noted that he did not say I should make my father proud. Mr. Mac. new what a shit he was. He shook my hand and wished me good luck.
My mother and I flew to Europe, and the next chapter of my life opened.
The next six years were transformational as I gained confidence in my myself and my abilities. I tried everything, every game, every pastime, every opportunity to test myself. In some I failed, in most I succeeded. As Mr. Mac. had said would happen, I became known as the boy that was willing, brave, an all-round decent guy, a team player.
I arrived at the school, a tall gangly boy with the stick-like development of a 12 year old. All knees, bony shoulders and elbows, knobbly knees and big feet. I really did not know how I would cope, but the words of Mr. Mac remained with me. I resolved to do my best and launched into my new life.
Shortly after I arrived there had been a reunion at the school of past students. I was walking down a corridor, the walls of which were lined with class photographs of past pupils, when I overheard a group of men in their 40's. One of them pointed at a photograph and said, "That was my year. A good bunch of guys, except for this little shit. God, how we all hated him. I wonder where he is now."
5
He then placed his finger on one face. It was that of my father.
I kept on walking. Never, in all the time I was there, did I tell my school mates that my father was a past pupil.
My very active life coincided with a few growth spurts and I shot up by a few of inches each year, until I topped out at 6ft 4in. At the same time my frame filled out and muscles started appearing at a rapid rate. My strength kept pace, by the time I was 16 the gym was seeing me every day, my body responded, and I soon became the biggest and most muscular boy at the school, towering in height and size above my contemporaries. The juniors just about hero-worshipped me, some of the younger ones did! To them, I was some sort of God. Any illusions I had were deflated by my peers telling me I was a cunt. Best friends can do that, and it is always mutual! All about being accepted.
Academically I was not brilliant, but I maintained my place in the upper quarter in all subjects. I was a high achiever in all sports, excelling at rugby, cricket, tennis and swimming. Victor Ludorum, in each of my last three years.
In my final year I was appointed Head Boy and Leader of the School.
I never returned home during those years. My mother came to Europe during my holidays to be with me and we travelled the world together. She told me that my father refused to have my name mentioned. She did not tell him how I was doing and developing. He would not look at any photograph in which I appeared and would not allow any photo of me to be displayed in the house. He had zero interest in seeing me. So far as he was concerned, I did not exist.
As it turned out, that was the worst decision he ever made.
Those holidays with my mother were fabulous. We visited many countries and saw amazing places, met interesting people. We travelled by air, sea and road. I am sure that aged 16, and looking like I did, I could have fucked a few women of all ages on every cruise, and at every spa, resort or hotel. The opportunities were there, but my mother knew the effect I was having on women. My hormones were calling the tune, she managed to "protect" me.
With all that available pussy around me, I remained a virgin.
So I masturbated a lot.
6
Just before my 18th birthday Mom came to be with me on my final day, when I checked out of the school for the last time.
She would miss her regular visits to Europe, the only times she ever got out from under the thumb of the bastard.
Before returning home, we spent a few fantastic days on the French Riviera.
Wherever we went we seemed to be the centre of attention. The petite lady and the muscular young boy stood out in the crowd. Mom just simply glowed when people complimented her. "Your son, such a handsome young man".
At the pool, wearing swim shorts, I knew I was attracting a lot of female attention. If I had been on my own, I would have had ample opportunity to lose my virginity with my pick of pussy, young and old. Some were blatant about their availability.
Mom told me some of them referred to me as "eye candy." They asked about the "handsome young man" who was travelling with her, some were convinced I was her toy-boy. Then she would introduce me as her son, and delight at the buzz of envy that caused.
I was quite at ease with the various people and situations we encountered. The school had provided an excellent education. They taught adolescent boys all the social skills and graces, how to behave in different circumstances. We learnt how to be courteous and respectful, how to dance formally and for fun. How to play Bridge, how to make interesting conversation and a variety of current topics. In short, essential life-skills.
Displaying those skills in company drew older people to me, especially the ladies.
I was the handsome, muscular, well-mannered young boy who was at ease in any social situation. My education had cost a fortune, but it was money well spent. We were mostly meeting people of mothers age or older. But because I was at ease with them, courteous and well-mannered it did not seem to matter that I was 18.
I rather liked the attention!
Now I was to be, briefly, allowed into the family home again. Mom told me that Dad made it very clear that he did not want that "nerdy boy" around, and I would have to be on my way damn soon, better if she did not bring him home at all.
7
She told me many things, a lot of which I had long suspected.
How he constantly humiliated, bullied and ignored her for weeks on end. Kept her isolated from his circle of friends.
Did I tell you he was a shit? Let me repeat. He is a mean piece of shit and treats her like shit.
I knew he fucked anything that walked, and he lets my mother know what he is doing. She told me he even brought bimbos home and fucked them under the marital roof. You see, an out and out shit.
The night before we were to fly home, I was in my room of the hotel suite when I heard her crying.
I went to investigate and found her lying on her bed, sobbing.
Going to her I put my hand on her back, "Mom, what's wrong?"
She turned over, her tear stained face looking at me.
I knew it had to be something my arsehole father had done, it always was.
"Mom, what has he done now?"
I kissed her forehead, telling her not to cry, as I cradled her against my chest. So fragile in my arms as her warm tears wet my pecs.
I have never felt more loving of anything.
Her sobs grew quieter and then ceased. In a sad, deflated voice, she said. "Oliver, darling. If only your father was like you."
"Mom, I am here for you, you know that. Has he hit you? I promise you, if he has laid a finger on you, I will break his legs".
She wriggled against me before saying, "There has never been physical violence, just constant mental torture. He is just so mean and hurtful. Darling, leave him alone, he is not worthy of you."
When the car turned in at our gate's I was glad to see the familiar sights again as we travelled the long driveway to the house. There was no one waiting to meet us, just another of his deliberate nasty snubs.
8
We stopped under the porch. Mr and Mrs MacInnes, our long-serving housekeeper and her groundsman husband, appeared and hurried over to Mom, while I assisted the chauffeur with the luggage. There was a lot of it!
They greeted Mom with great affection. I have always liked them. They have been with us all my life, always taking an interest in, and spoiling, me.
As I was piling the luggage, I saw that Mrs. Mac was looking at me in a slightly puzzled way, she was probably wondering who the large young man was. I saw her turn to Mom and say something.
My Mom smiled and beckoned me over.
I was about to say hello when Mom said. "Oliver darling, come here."
Mr and Mrs Mac did a double take, as some recognition dawned.
"Ollie dear, is that really you?" Said Mrs. Mac, as she put her hands to her face. "Oh, my goodness, how you have changed!" I smiled, hugged her and lifted her off her feet to twirl around before setting her down with a kiss on the cheek. She smelt the same as I remembered her, motherly and comforting.
"Yes, it is me. I am so happy to see you again. I have missed you very much".
Old man MacInnes grabbed my hand and pumped it in delight. "My god, Sir. Welcome home Sir. Well I never. You are a grown man Sir, so changed!"
I shook his hand. "Thank you, Sir. Changed? I guess I have, well just a bit. But please, I am still Wee Ollie, so no more of this 'Sir' stuff from you to me."
As he looked at me his eyes crinkled, I swear there were tears not far off.
"You were always our special boy All these years my wife and I have missed you. You may have changed in shape and size, but your true self remains the same, I can see that. A credit to your mother, she is so proud of you, just as we are."
He just managed to catch himself as he was about to say "Sir" again, when he paused and said, "Wee Ollie, is what we knew you as, so with your permission, although we cannot possibly call you "Wee", we will call you Ollie. If that is alright with you, may we address you as Ollie?"
9
I tower at least a foot over him. I touched his shoulders, looking down into his lined face. "Of course, Sir, I would not have you do otherwise, but you will always be Sir, to me."
Mutual respect sealed. That education prepares one for such occasions!
When the luggage was in the house Mom said that my bedroom was where it had always been. I ran up the stairs and threw open the door. I was back in the bedroom of a twelve year old boy. Nothing had changed in over five years. Superman and Batman posters on the walls. Model 'planes and ships. Collected treasures and books of my childhood on the shelves. The only thing that was different was the bed. Gone was my little boy bed, in its place stood a big double.
Mom was behind me. "Darling, I changed nothing. Every day I sat in here for an hour thinking about you, looking at your possessions. Only last week I had the bed changed, you would never have fitted in the old one."
Now it was my eyes prickling with tears.
I scooped her up in my arms and hugged her.
Mom had come in here every day for each of those years to connect with me. I had no idea she had been doing that. Holding her I sat on the bed and cradled her in my arms., I did cry. It was a very emotional moment. She kissed my tears away.
After a while she left me and I sorted out my clothing, unpacking some suitcases.
Then I heard his voice, bombastic, demanding attention and obviously talking, or rather shouting, at Mom.
"So, you are back are you. You needn't have bothered. You should have taken your damned brat and left me in peace. I was hoping you had got rid of it, that I was rid of both of you."
I determined there and then that this had to stop.
Mom had told me that, because he refused to look at any photos of me, she had deliberately not told him that their returning son was somewhat different to the son he had last seen six years before.
I had changed into a tee shirt and shorts. The tight shirt strained across my chest, every muscle defined, my arms pumped, the shorts tight around my thighs.
10
Barefooted, I padded down the stairs and found him yelling at Mom in the hallway. His back was to me. Seeing Mom's eyes move past him, he turned around. Seeing me he took a step back, there was absolutely no recognition.
"Who the hell are you, what are you doing in my house?" He had to crane his neck back to look up at me. I had a good view into his nostrils. Not pleasant.
He whipped around to face Mom again.
"I demand to know who this is. Something you have picked up on your travels? You whore! A boyfriend, a toy-boy? You pathetic creature! You must be paying him well; no self-respecting man would want to touch you. Get him out of here!"
I was about to speak when Mom, stopped me.
Walking over to me she stood next to me, sheltering under my protective shield.
With obvious relish she then stepped to one side and pointed at me.
"My dear, meet your son, Oliver."
His jaw hit the floor, his mouth moved, but he was not able to talk.
I walked over to him and extended a hand. "Hello Sir, it is good to be back. I am glad to be back. It seems to me that Mom needs me here."
I was towering over the short, weedy twat. In his state of shock, he automatically raised a hand to take mine. I took it and gave him a smile as I crushed his hand in my fist. The pain in his eyes was good to see, he whimpered as I let him go.
He stood nursing his hand, not believing what he was seeing.
Looking down at him I said. "Let us go into your study Sir, there is something we need to discuss. Excuse us mother, this will not take long."
I called him Sir, I always had.
Good manners again. He had paid for my education, he now saw the result.
He did not move, but I gave him no choice. Taking him by his nerdy upper arm, I walked him to the study and sat him down in a chair.
He did not resist, still in shock and unable to take his eyes off me.
11
He found his voice, or at least a squeak of it. "What is it you want to say? I do not want you in this house. So, get out, take your whore mother with you."
"Dad, you are my father, I call you that, not that you deserve it. There is to be no discussion. As from now you will treat my mother with the respect she deserves. You will not raise your voice to her. You will not insult her or humiliate her in any way."
His old self returned with a rush, "How dare you talk to me like this. You and your whore mother are to leave this house immediately. Immediately, do you hear me!"
With one hand I grabbed his shirtfront and lifted him out of the chair till our eyes were at the same level, his feet kicking in fresh air, many inches off the floor.
"Dad, I will not repeat myself. From now on you will behave. My mother is to be respected and treated decently. If you carry on with your gross behaviour towards her I will personally beat the living shit out of you. Get that through your fucking head or face the consequences. There will be no further warning."
I did not sit him down in the chair, I just opened my hand and dropped him in a heap on the floor.
"What is more, if I have to use physical violence it will be a very good idea if you moved out. You are an unmannerly pig and do not belong in a civilised household. You choose. Reform, or get out before I beat the shit out of you."
He remained sprawled on the floor as I towered over him, his eyes were frightened. "By the way, Mom told me that you treat the staff as if they are crap. They only stay out of loyalty to her, so what I said about your treatment of Mom applies equally to them. Those people kept my mother sane, despite your best efforts. Respect them, or else." He saw my fists on the end of muscular arms.
His face was a contortion of bewilderment, shock and plain old fashioned fear. The self-image of macho man seeping out of him, comprehensively destroyed in three minutes. It is never nice to destroy a man, but this bastard deserved it
I also saw an almost imperceptible nod.
"Good, then we have an understanding, Sir. For your sake I hope we do."
12
With that I lifted him by his shirt again and put him back on the chair and left, saying "Good afternoon Sir, I will see you at dinner."
That education again, worth every penny that he spent on it.
He did not appear for dinner and was not missed.
Mom and I sat talking long into the night. She asked me what had happened in the study. I told her not to worry about it, Dad and I had reached an understanding about the way he treats her, and the staff.
Her raised eyes looked at me. "Oliver darling, I am sure you have. Thank you."
We went up to our rooms together. Outside the door to her suite- she turned and kissed me on the cheek, a motherly 'good night'.
I held her tight and she started silently crying, "Oh I am so glad you are home, so very glad."
She was moulding herself to me. Holding her lovely, warm body I can feel her shape, it is firm in the right places and soft in the right places. My hands can just about encircle her tiny waist. She has great tits, I once spotted them when she accidentally dropped her bikini top while sunbathing next to a pool at a spa in South Africa. I had registered them as off the scale, a 12+ on a scale of 10. She has fantastic shapely legs from dainty feet to her perfect butt. At 5ft 2in She is small enough to fit under my arm and have room to spare.
Hugging her I am acutely aware of the intense physicality now in play, and the intimacy of the situation. I lick at her silent tears, tasting the saltiness. I am suddenly aware that she has turned her head and I am now licking her on the lips. Suddenly her tongue pushes through my lips and a game of feverish tonsil hockey starts.
Our eyes pop wide open, staring at each other, lips touching, eyes a couple of inches apart. This is dangerous, deeply buried feelings are suddenly in play.
I made to pull away, but she held me tight. I felt her tongue flicker on my lips. This was crazy, my Mom is doing this to me!
She reaches behind and opens the door to her rooms. I lift her off her feet and walk through the door, kicking it shut behind me
Our eyes remain locked and her tongue is deep inside my mouth.
13
I respond, her eyes widen, the game is on. My hands start to roam over her body, she is breathing fast, her hands pushing against my chest.
Her voice sounds like she is whispering from some distance away, not just an inch from my face. "Oliver, hold me darling." She has a hand on each of my hips. I can feel her warmth and love as my arms encircle her.
So fragile, but now safely wrapped in my strong arms.
I pull my t-shirt off, knowing that I am taking the first step on a journey neither of us had thought possible a few moments before. She runs her hands across my chest, my pecs flex as her fingers brush my nipples. A raging erection is pressing through my shorts and prodding at her.
I find the zip at the back of her dress, play with it, and feel her shrug in a way that tells me to carry on. I hesitate and then pull it down an inch, her shrug came again, so I try another inch. The same reaction so I slide the zip right down. When the zip stops my hand continues down until I am cupping her butt and pulling her against me.
The dress is now loose on her torso and she shakes it from her shoulders.
Those great tits are only the thickness of a flimsy bra from making skin contact with my chest as she reaches behind and snaps the catch.
I put my mouth between the tits and, taking the bra in my teeth, pull it free.
Her beautiful mounds bounce into view, and I bury my face between them.
She is moaning and murmuring my name, her hand on my head holding me to her. We both are losing ourselves to lust. I put her on the bed and kneel between her thighs. She splays her leg wide, the flimsy knickers strain to keep her pussy covered
My lips and tongue are wandering all over her upper body, face, neck, tits, pits and any other place they can find. This is like owning a sweetshop.
My tongue travels down the cleavage and onto her stomach till I am probing her belly button. Both my hands are on her tits, I roll the nipples between fingers and thumbs. They react, become hard, are so lovely to feel and play with.
14
Mom is squealing and moaning, her fingers digging into my back as she loses herself to me, her son, the heat of lust overpowering inhibitions, our bodies responding to each other with total abandon. My cock is half out of my shorts.
Her dress drops to the floor, I kick it away as her hands push my shorts and boxers to my knees
I kick them off and go for gold, naked as I was when I arrived in this world from her womb.
She places a hand over mine as I grip her knickers. "Bruce, stop. I am your mother. This is wrong." But there is a compelling hunger in her eyes as she sees my naked body, thick cock in full erection, precum now streaking on her belly.
She holds my cock; her fingers cannot encircle it. Her words are jumbled, coming in short gasps. "Oh god, you are so big, so big. Oh Ollie, help me please, stop me. We mustn't ...oh Yes. No., Yes, yes, yes. Oh, yes fuck me. Fuck me. Oh god yes, I want you! Fuck me, yes fuck me, fuck me my handsome boy, my darling!"
Her conflict is between desire and inhibition.
Desire is the clear winner.
There is one message that I am hearing.
She wants to be fucked, is begging to be fucked and she knows it is me, her son, that will fuck her.
There is no way this is going to stop because she is my mother, there is no way she wants it to stop, that is written all over her face.
My cock is painfully hard, throbbing, ready and eager to satisfy her need.
I rip the panties off and bury my face in the destroyed garment, holding it with both hands to inhale the sweet smell of her very excited cunt cave.
Tossing the torn material aside I gaze in wonder at her. She is there for me to explore; the opening is glistening with her juice as nature is lubricating her for what is to come. Two naked bodies so different, she petite, me so large.
I think. "Shit, my cock will destroy her." But then I tell myself that that women are designed so large babies can be birthed. My cock is no match for a baby! Besides which, it is going in, not coming out.
15
"My god, Oliver, you are a gorgeous man, such a big man! I had no idea you were such a huge man down there! My darling son. My very own son, so big!"
At this point in mother-son first time incest scenes he always fingers her pussy as she screams in ecstasy, before he dives down and spends twenty minutes eating her pussy as the juices flow. After which she takes his cock in her mouth and he comes in huge ropes of cum (at least five times as that is the mandatory number it seems), which she then swallows. You must then read through endless paragraphs of repetitive description before he fucks her and fills her with his load of virile young sperm. If a guy really went through all the motions beloved by the authors of these tales, he would be losing interest and deflating long before anything happened.
No, the aim of such turgid description is to get the reader so worked up they need to use a full box of tissues to wipe gallons of masturbation generated cum off themselves and their lap-tops. By the time the written action takes place the reader has shot his bolt and is in a state of post-ejaculatory euphoria.
Like you, I have been there, done that, many, many times. I have often wondered if the tissue manufacturers pay the authors of such unrealistic fantasy to go the extra mile in order to push up sales of their product.
Every young motherfucker knows that, in real life it never happens that way when he first fucks his mother. By the very nature of the relationship a first-time mother and son fuck session is going to be swift and uncontrolled. He will be lucky to even get into her before he blows his load. The only preparations made are beyond human control, they are what nature provides, a copious flow of precum and cunt juice. If he messed about like he was in a porno movie they would both have time to reflect on the enormity of what they are about to do. Likely she will call a stop, and he will not consummate their groping.
Okay, now let us get back on track.
Ditch the thought of any foreplay, I am going to cuckold my shitty father without delay.
My mother is lying on her back, legs open, knees wide apart, mouth open, eyes wide cunt waiting. A woman on heat, needing to be sexually satisfied by me, her son, before she can think about it any further.
16
Any inhibiting thoughts either of us may have had about me being her son vanished a while back in a fog of mutual lust, now is not the time to let them reappear.
As I kneel between her open thighs, she eyes my 18-year-old pre-cum slicked, clean cut cock rearing out over her. Just under 10 inches of man meat, throbbing and in a hurry to get busy in her.
Her state of arousal is very evident, her nipples are hard, her thighs flexing, hips thrusting, eyes on that tasty meat-pole which is self-basting itself with precum
Another large tear-drop of the pre-cum emerges from the eye of the head and slowly descends on a glistening thread of boy juice to fall on her shaven pussy.
Not saying a word, I lift her legs up over my shoulders, pushing forward to force those great legs back over her head till her heels are almost touching her ear lobes. With one hand I hold them there and look down at her pussy, a sacrifice to a muscular and horny youth, her son.
I depress the angle of my cock until the large, circumcised head points directly at her cunt opening. Our eyes lock, she smiles, the wait is almost over.
The lips of her cunt are hungrily opening and closing, like a fish out of water. Her engorged clit is visible. We are both very well self-lubed. It is now or never.
My muscles tense as she says. "Fuck me Oliver, fuck me now, fuck me hard."
That was the starting gun. Using all the power of my muscled quads and glutes I lunge forward, my shoulders drive her legs further back, her cunt spreads wide open and my cock head slams through the lips and carries on for over 9 inches until it hits the back wall of her cervix. I am buried balls deep, having opened her with brutal force, but there was no other way.
That is the only way to get in without cumming too soon and spoiling everything.
It takes a split second, too fast for her to react, and I am in, my balls resting on her butt.
When I stop on that buried buffer, she lets out a scream, loud enough to wake the dead, her eyes roll back as she faints.
I stay in her, fighting the boiling urge to let go and empty my balls. Intense effort finally wins, and I feel confident I have delayed my ejaculation.
17
Cautiously I start pumping life back into her with long slow strokes, fighting to control myself, until she comes around, looking up at me with disbelief. Shock and awe in her eyes, unable to speak but a smile is appearing on her face.
I stop moving and stay locked in her, supporting myself on my extended arms looking down into her eyes, they are misty with soft tears. Of joy, I hope.
I tell her. "You are now mine to care for. I will love you and protect you. If Dad steps out of line, I will beat the shit out of him. That is what I told him."
It is a statement of fact. Solid, irrevocable determination to protect my mother.
Her legs locked around my waist, hands on my pecs, she slowly nods her head.
"Mom, he will never again touch you, humiliate you or bully you."
She is smiling and nodding. Smiles of pure love, misty-eyed and boring into my soul. Our relationship has changed forever.
She runs her hand over my abs and pecs, tracing the contours and lingering in the grid of my six pack. "So strong, so beautiful my darling son. She strokes my cheeks, lips and jaw line. "My lovely boy. That was wonderful, so wonderful. I love you so very much. You have made me so happy."
Her lips trembled as the emotion took control. She is crying as I lift her in my arms. I see our reflection in the mirror and feel a surge of pride and possession.
I initiate a kiss and she eagerly returns the passion as our tongues engage. We kiss like lovers, not as mother and son. That period in our lives is behind us.
I lift her and stand with her legs locked around my waist. She is seated in my hands that are cupping her butt. I slowly lower her until she is fully impaled on my waiting cock. I lift her up and down my shaft, love in every stroke as she builds to one, then two and finally a third orgasm before I empty my balls into her and seal my new status in her life.
My sperm fills her as she is crying my name, smiling and moaning softly. Still balls deep I set her down on her back and start to power fuck with long deep strokes. She starts moaning and crying my name, her fingers run riot on my broad back as her heels drum on my butt. She gets louder and louder, encouraging me. "Fuck me Oliver, fuck me. Harder, harder. Yes, oh my god!"
18
She orgasms again as I blast a new load of sperm. Her vagina pulses, gripping my cock, milking every drop from my balls.
Thinking of those sperm. Neither I or Mom had said anything about safe sex. I did not use a condom, anyway most are too small and would surely burst.
She has often said that having another baby might make my father treat her better. I have always thought that was bullshit, the bastard will never change. But, if she was thinking that way, I doubt she will be using any contraception.
I lie down next to her, my cum running out from between her legs.
Looking at the ceiling I say. "Mom, do you know what I was thinking just then?"
She smiles her misty smile, running fingers on my chest. "No. You tell me, my handsome lover." My cock remains rigid, she plays her fingers along it.
"Well, you have said that another baby might make Dad see sense and be a proper husband to you. You know as well as I do, that it is not going to happen, he will always be a shit. I was thinking, if make you pregnant you can flaunt your swollen belly at my fucking shit of a father. I would personally tell him I am the father of your child. I will rub his nose in the fact that he has been totally cuckolded by his own son. As male DNA passes from father to son, a test will seem to prove him to be the father, but you and I, and most importantly he, will know that is not the case. Sweet revenge for the way he treats you."
Mom sat up and looked at me, a mischievous smile on her lips. "You are such a sweetie. If I were to have another baby, I cannot imagine the father being anyone other than you."
My chest swells with pride. "I will destroy him, Mom. Destroy him in the eyes of his golf, hunting and fishing buddies. The people you never meet because he never lets you near them. The ones that only see him with some bimbo or whore as his ornament. I will casually let it slip to his circle that he is impotent and not the macho sex-god love-machine he makes himself out to be. I will hint that he pays me to fuck you and that is how the baby was conceived."
19
She smiles at me and, we kiss, our tongues meet. A little while later she says. "Darling if I have your baby, I will cherish it as much as I cherish you."
She then sat up and looked at me. "I must be honest with you. Your father has not had sex with me since you were conceived."
I am shocked. She continues. "I am a young woman, I have needs. After he ignored me for over two years, I found my pleasure by dating strangers. I have had a lot of sex with men I did not know and would never see again. Men of my age, or younger than me. Quite a lot of them are your age."
"Mom. You are a beautiful woman married to a shit. Just so long as you had some happy moments. You did the right thing. I feel quite jealous!"
As I hugged her, she whispered in my ear. "Because I did not want any accidents I went on the pill before I started seeing those men and boys. You need not worry about fathering your brother or sister. Unless of course you want to!"
I laughed at that. "It would be fantastic if I did, but let us have a lot of fun first, then we can think about it."
I hugged her and said. "While we are having fun, I will also make it my mission to meet and fuck every one of his girlfriends and will let him know it. If I impregnate any of them the DNA will point to him as the father! That is my plan. I first destroy his macho image, then I knock his bimbos up, and he has to support what is actually my child."
Mom laughed at that. "He has so many of them, it will take some time! But, my handsome boy, all you will have to do is show them your lovely body. They will compare you to your father. No contest! They will just fall at your feet to be bedded by you!"
My schlong is pushing against her. I roll onto my back and place her on the end of it. She slowly impales herself.
"Mom, you and I are going places and my shitty father is going to pay for it. Just you wait and see."
She smiles as her cunt swallows all I have to offer.
Conclusion of Chapter 1. (Approx. 7600 words. February 2019.)
In future chapters we will follow Oliver as he makes good on his promise to screw all those bimbos.