I’ve had this fantasy for a long time. My son comes home from the army, drags his fat, lazy father down to the guest room, and moves his things into the huge master bedroom, and becomes the man of the family.
You were a loner, arrested multiple times for beating the shit out grown men before a judge forced you to join the military to avoid going to prison. You became a Marine, earned yourself a dozen rare medals, fucked your C.O.’s teenage daughter and “retired” at 23. Came home covered in tattoos, and with the kind of body Olympic Athletes would kill for.
You came home, dropped your duffel bag in the living room, made yourself a dozen eggs and 2 pounds of bacon, poured out the milk and refilled it with water, which you drank 2 gallons of before you said your first word to me.
“Mom,” you said. “You’re too hot to be with an unemployed piece of shit like Dad.”
Then you slapped the bagel out of my hand, said “no more fucking carbs in this house,” grabbed my wrist, and slapped my thigh once. Hard.
“In Afghanistan if I saw a woman as hot as you on patrol, I’d take her home with me and pass her around the barracks for a fucking week. Don’t ruin that perfect ass of yours by picking up dad’s gross habits.”
Then you went out to the living room, sat in your dad’s big chair, and waited for him to come home.
When your sister came home first, you have her a long hug and then kissed her on the lips for much longer than I thought was appropriate. But before I could say anything, you’d slapped her on the ass, whispered something in her ear, and sent her scurrying upstairs with a red, shame – filled face. When I heard the gentle buzz of my vibrator 2 minutes later, I gasped in humiliation. You just smirked.
Dad got home and you didn’t waste time. You broke his nose, bruised a rib, and watched him carry his clothes down to the basement. You also threw out most of my conservative clothes, and all of my non-summer wardrobe. You laid out jeans that were 2 sizes too small and a bikini top, and told me to change.
I don’t know why I did. You were just so… Commanding. I wanted to obey you.
“Well, he does seem to have grown up,” I decided.
You were muscular, with shoulders like football padding, and you were stuffing your crotch with socks, like your father did before we got married.
“I’ll never know why men have to pretend to be apes down there.”
Then I got back downstairs and found you fucking the shit out of your little sister in the living room.
Her face was red and straining. Her small pussy was stretched around your cock like a layer of paint. And her nipples were as sharp as diamonds.
You were not stuffing your pants with socks.
You were a fucking monster between the legs.
She screamed her way through a bucking, shivering orgasm before you said anything.
“I wanted you to see this, Mom. You’re going to follow her.”
You gave your sister another screaming orgasm.
“I’m now in charge of this family, and you and Sarah-your sister – belong to me, Amy.”
Amy is my name. Being called my name by my son was both wrong and sexy at the same time.
Like your sister, and you, I’m a blond, with dark blue eyes, although without your commanding stare.
I’m tall and skinny, with a large ass most people think is an implant, but which is really just bagels and squats. My ass is very wide, and very strong. Your father tried to anally penetrare me once, screamed, pulled out a bruised 4-inch cock, and cried in the bathroom for 45 minutes.
The first thing you did after taking over was fling me over the back of the couch and shove your oversized erection halfway to my stomach and show me why a woman will go ass to mouth for some very strong men.
But it’s not just enough to fuck me. You want my soul. You want to own me in a way I’ve never been owned. And you won’t take “no” for an answer.
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