It started in the locker room. You would walk around, your thick young prick swinging between your thighs, making sure you were bigger than each and every other boy in school.
That’s how you found my son cringing in a shower stall, quickly getting changed before gym.
He wasn’t the smallest kid in school, but his dick was skinny and short and worm-like, with balls like little grapes.
You’d probably have left him alone if you hadn’t caught him staring at you soaping up your big, fat cervix-smasher.
Long story short, a week later you owned him, with more than enough blackmail material to destroy his innocent little life.
…but you’ve held back. Because of me.
Little shrimp-dick has a huge-titted MILF mommy with an ass like a blue ribbon peach. One of those tight, athletic Soccer Mom bodies that jogs from SUV to Whole Foods to FroYo, who does an hour of squats every morning and only fucks her fat, rich hubby two times a month with the lights out, and uses a chainsaw vibrator twice a day to make up for it.
I have everything a little alpha bull like yourself really wants: blond hair, blue eyes, and legs that could wrap all the way around your ripped, lacrosse-playing abs two times over. Never out of heels, never wears a bra. Nipples fucking hypnotize your horny, testosterone-soaked brain as I bounce up to my unworthy son, and hide my disappointment after school EVERY DAY.
You’ve been taking your frustration out on my son, of course. He’s had black eyes, a split lit, and I’m pretty sure you cracked one of his hollow, low-calcium ribs yesterday. He only drinks soy milk, you see. You throw back a gallon of Whole Vitamin D milk twice a day.
But it’s not until I come home to find you beating the shit out of my husband that I really, really take notice. I’ve got kind of a thing for bad boys, and while you’re young (let’s say 18 for the sake of the rules, but ask about ageplay), your shredded torso and tattoos and the way you didn’t even put out your cigarette before pumping twenty battering ram punches into my husband’s fat guts really hits me in the ovaries.
You’ve got one of those twisted-gold necklaces with a cross banging away between your two stone-hard pecs, and you drive a heavily modded Mustang that drives like a bomb going off underneath you. Size 15 shoes. Spits from time to time. And the Spanish teacher? You know, the one barely out of college who got pregnant last year? Her twins look suspiciously like you.
You walk over my wheezing husband and slap my ass on your way back to the car. As you thought, solid fucking PAWG muscle. Thank you, Instagram.
You turn. Spit. Use your dying cigarette to light the tip of a fresh one.
“What are you doing with these tiny-dicked boys?” you ask me.
I grab the cigarette out of your mouth and throw it in the fireplace. Our home is no smoking!
“GET OUT!” I scream at you. “Get out, or I’ll call the-”
You roll your eyes and unzip your pants. Peel them down your thighs like the skin of a denim fruit. Your flaccid dick is twice as long as my husband’s and three times a thick. It’s uncut, too, something I’ve never seen in my whole life. It give your cock a shocking, almost animal-like appearance.
My breath catches in my throat. You smirk.
“Look, lady, I’ve got more pussy in my life than I really need,” you say. “But there’s something about the idea of fucking a real, chubby-breasted, hard-assed ‘Mommy’ that gets me off.”
Your dick stirs and its many veins start to pulse. It lengthens and my eyes widen.
You reach out and rip my shirt. My bare breasts are as high as balloons even though I never wear a bra.
“Real?” you ask.
I blush. Honest-to-God, I turn red.
“Of course they’re real, you little shit. I’m not a… a… a whore like the women you’re used to.”
You shake your head. “No you’re not.” Your dick continues to thicken. It’s as thick as my wrist now, and long enough that I have to take a step back as it lifts into an angry, elephant’s trunk shape between us.
“Goddamn,” you say. “I can see the marks from your kid’s teeth on your fucking nipples. I can actually see where he nursed on you.”
Your dick is now bigger than I thought a penis could ever be. Its veins thud, and the ones feeding your perfect, brick wall abs darken as your body becomes life support for your big, hard erection.
You grin. I haven’t looked away from your cock since you pulled it out.
You step back. I step forward. You step to the side. I step to the side.
I even step right onto my husband’s hand without realizing it, my stiletto leaving a nasty mark and making his cry out in pain.
“Look, Miss,” you say, tugging your shirt off to reveal your perfect bronze chest and the dangling little cross. “I’m going to shove my big dick into a pussy now. It can be yours, or I can call one of my whores and waste it on them.”
I swallow heavily.
“I…”
“But look at it this way. Your little faggot son and your bigger faggot husband are fun to beat the shit out of. So I’m going to do it every day until it stops being fun OR you give me something else to do while I’m here.” You punctuate this by kicking my husband in the ribs. He howls and you kick him again so he shuts up.
You reach down and pump your dick like a shotgun.
“You love your kid, right? I could probably make him fucking insane. Torture his soul out. You know? And I’d do it, too. Because he’s a fucking bitch, and I’m a fucking king. Right?”
I nod without realizing it. This gets you off so much your dick spits up precum and it hits me on the stomach.
“Oh! Oh God I don’t want this…”
But I do. I really, really do.
“I can smell your pussy from here, lady,” you say. “I bet it’s been a long time since this house smelled like wet pussy. If ever.”
You put your hand out. Your dick still hasn’t drooped a millimeter. It’s pointed at me like an angry finger.
I reach out and take your hand.
Behind us, my husband howls louder than when I nearly punched a heel through his hand.
“We’re going to fuck on your son’s bed,” you say, casually.
I nod.
“You on the pill?”
I shake my head.
He smirks. Why would you be?
“I’ll be nutting inside you, so I just wanted to know.”
I shake my head. “You can’t-”
“Hey,” you snap. “Don’t make me smack you around too. I don’t like it but you better fucking believe I do it when a woman forgets who the king is, yeah? You wanna call my mom and ask? Ask her why she sleeps in the basement with my sisters, while I sleep in the big bedroom all by myself?”
I shake my head. I don’t need to ask.
I know.
My son’s bedroom is messy, filled with comic books and school stuff. His laptop is right by the bed, along with a roll of toilet paper and a half-empty lotion dispenser.
I wince.
“Oh good,” you say. “This is where he fucks his chubby little hand.” You kick your huge shoes off. You’re not wearing socks.
“Sit down right on that crusty little spot there,” you say, pointing to where my son has spilled at least a dozen miniscule loads since the last time the maid was in there.
You tug the leggings down over my ass before I sit, so my bare skin is against my son’s dried semen on the sheet.
My face is as red as a whore’s puffy gash as I wriggle against the weak, dried ejaculate underneath me.
You pull your pants off, your balls flopping out like plums in a sack. Your thighs are like a race horse. And your lower body, unlike my low-testosterone child, is fuzzy with dark, masculine hair. Even your ass. Even your balls.
Even your dick, I now see, as you push it well into my personal space. I can smell your musky precum. I can see the little hairs on your well-developed foreskin. I can see right into the wide, marble-hole mouth of your piss slit.
“Do you know how to suck a dick, Lady?”
I shake my head. My husband wouldn’t dare put his genitals near my mouth.
“Open wide.”
I open my mouth.
You sigh.
“Wider, unless you want it to bust your jaw.”
I open my mouth as wide as I can.
You grunt. “I guess that’ll have to do.”
Your thick, warm foreskin is immediately between my lips like the tip of a very chubby cigar.
My lips peel back your heavy foreskin as you push forward, exposing the huge, mushroom speartip to my mouth.
“Put your tongue on it,” you tell me.
I comply.
You roll your eyes. “Move it around, you dumb bitch.”
I begin to lick your cockhead as though it were food, which I rapidly discover it is. It tastes… undeniably manly. Salt, Musk, Slime, Dirt—it doesn’t sound like something a woman like me would want on her tongue, but I find myself moving my tongue faster to lick under the bumpy glans, to lash between the sensitive veins.
“There you go,” you say.
You push in another inch.
I make a panicked noise that brings a sneer to your mouth.
“Oh yeah, I’d take a good long breath if I were you,” you say.
But before I can breathe, you push another inch into my mouth, jamming your massive dickhead against my throat and cutting off my air.
“Oops,” you say, grinning. “Guess you’re gunna have to suck for air, huh?”
I grab your hips and your big hands cover mine.
“Suck, slut,” you growl, “or I’ll drag your little boy up here and have him show you how to do it.”
I scream inside, but I suck outside. Like sucking on a big, meaty straw. Like a really stubborn milkshake. And I’m rewarded with thick, warm precum slopping up my mouth and dribbling down my throat.
Your hands grip my head.
“Here we go, bitch,” you say.
You push another inch in. There’s nowhere for your cock to go but down my throat.
I scratch at your legs, but that just makes it hotter for you. Another inch shoves its way down into my sensitive neck.
I panic, flopping like a fish on a hook, which is exactly what I look like as your cruel iron dick sinks yet another terrible inch into my gasping esophagus.
I gag, but it doesn’t matter. There’s so much cock in my throat that I couldn’t puke even I wanted to.
“God, this is always the best part,” you say. “I hate when they get used to it.”
You look straight into my eyes, and I see the demon behind all the lust. The gorgeous, evil thing growing inside all real men—and not in my husband or son. The little monster.
“I love hurting girls with my dick,” you say, too young for finesse, too certain of yourself to lie. “I just wish I could crush your soul with it.”
You smile as the fear opens my throat and, with a slow, agonizing thrust, you get your whole erection all the way into my mouth, your massive balls resting against my neck, your huge cockhead sizzling a little in my stomach acid. Your precum mixes into my stomach stars to trickle into my guts. I’ll be able to smell your cock for days, you know.
“Now,” you say, a cruel smile on your lips. “Fucking SUCK, or I’ll let you suffocate with my prick buried in your old, bitchy face.”
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Her Tongue 