My Son, My Friend, My Secret Lover by SusanJillParker,SusanJillParker

My Son, My Friend, My Secret Lover

A longtime coming, literally eighteen-years in the making, unembarrassed and unashamed, having no regrets, 39-year-old, Susan Jill Parker, finally had a romantic, sexual affair with her 18-year-old son, Mathew.

This is a true story that Mathew asked me to write about his mother, Susan Jill Parker.

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Always struggling to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and clothes on our backs, my life as a single mother hasn’t been an easy one. It’s always been my son and me against the world. Yet, with no one to blame but myself, I’m still paying for the one mistake that I made when I was 18-years-old and that turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

After a night of partying with my friends at my high school graduation party nearly twenty-years-ago, a man I didn’t know and had never met until that night, impregnated me when I was 18-years-old. Invading my graduation party, a group of stockbrokers that he was with at the next table, his co-workers from Merrill Lynch at the Boston Financial District, were celebrating the money they made that week. Flirting with me all night and finally dancing with me, he ordered champagne in celebration of my high school graduation.

I was flattered. Just as I never had the attention from a man old enough to be my father, I had never had champagne until that night. Accustomed to men saying sexually inappropriate things while groping me, touching me, and feeling me through my clothes, especially when slow dancing with me, he was nice. Instead of talking about sex and all things sexual, instead of asking to see my naked tits, he talked about what interested me. He talked about the epic poems of Milton’s Paradise Lost and Dante’s Inferno.

Difficult not to wonder, I always wondered if there was a Heaven and a Hell. I always wondered if there was life after death. Or in the words of the immortal Peggy Lee, “Is That All There Is? Is that all there is?” Are we all doomed to suffer this life and not expect anything better? It’s better if you have money but most of us don’t.

With him seeming so worldly, I wanted to get his take on Heaven and Hell, and life after death. I figured that a stockbroker, a man who talks for a living and who forecast the prices of stocks and who discusses past, future, and current events, would have a different perspective on things. Yet, as much as I didn’t know if there was Heaven and Hell, and life after death, he didn’t know either. The answers to those questions were anyone’s guess.

I thought that we were discussing fine works of literature. I had no idea that he was secretly, sexually seducing me until it was too late when I was naked and he was on top of me, humping me, and cumming inside of me. Not grabby nor was he sexually inappropriate, he was so smooth. A time when most men had no class, when they’d lift your short skirt to see your panties should they catch you alone in an elevator or alone on the stairwell in a parking garage, I felt as if I was being romanced by Luke Perry, John Stamos, or Brad Pitt.

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“My name is Grant, Grant Bentley,” he said flashing me his million-dollar smile.

‘Grant Bentley? What the Hell kind of name is that? He’s definitely not from this neighborhood,’ I thought. ‘Judging him from his sparkling, monogramed, gold cufflinks, his Rolex watch, his expensive, silk suit, his perfect smile, and his Caribbean tan, he didn’t have to tell me that he was rich, he looked rich.

Curious about him, I never knew anyone named Grant. With him owning a brand new, 1990 Rolls Royce, and Rolls Royce owning Bentley Motors Limited before being sold to Volkswagen and then to BMW years later, I wondered if his family had anything to do with Bentley automobiles. Not seeing a Rolls Royce every day, I wondered if his family had anything to do with Rolls Royce.’

“Susan, Susan Jill Parker,” I said the first time using my entire name as my formal introduction and as my way to identify myself and hopefully impress him.

Only, unless I was naked and, on my knees, or in his bed, he was a man that no high school schoolgirl could impress. Yet, I was no longer in high school. I was a high school graduate. Besides, I wasn’t just any schoolgirl. I was SusanJillParker.

Moreover, it wasn’t my name that impressed him. It was my pretty face, my natural, blonde hair, my big, blue eyes, and my full, red lips. He looked at me as if I was his sexy desert after he had eaten a seven-course meal. It was my round, firm ass, my long, shapely legs, and my huge D cup breasts that not only captured his interest but also that held his interest.

He looked at me as if he was taking inventory. He looked at me as if he was summing up and assessing all of my body parts. I knew he was sexually enamored with my sexy and shapely body; all men are. Before Kim Kardashian was even born, men wanted women who looked like Christie Brinkley. They wanted tall, classy, blue-eyed blondes with big tits and killer bodies instead of a short, promiscuous whores with big asses.

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When he wasn’t staring in my big, blue eyes, he stared at the tops of my huge breasts, at my long, line of sexy cleavage, and down my low-cut blouse top. With my nipples making their presence known, he stared at the impressions my erect nipples made through my thin brassiere in my sheer top. Already sexually aroused, my nipples ached to be fingered and sucked.

Gravitating away from our friends, the best night of my life, we spent the night talking, drinking, laughing, and dancing. Totally flattered, I never had the focused attention of a man old enough to be my father. Having never known my father, adding to my romantic illusion, I imagined Grant Bentley being my dad. In the way that my four brothers were all sexually attracted and incestuously intimate with my mom, I imagined being sexually attracted and incestuously intimate with my dad.

‘How hot would that be if my dad was a handsome millionaire? How hot would that be to have a father who could buy me anything at any time that I wanted it,’ I thought? ‘If only Grant Bentley was my father, I’d be so proud. If only Grant Bentley was my lover, I suck him every morning and make love to him every night.’

Only, with him at the other end of the spectrum, no doubt, he was just another perverted man who was more sexually attracted to an 18-year-old girl instead of to a woman his age. Clearly, if only by the way that he looked at me with unrequited lust, undressing me with his eyes, he imagined me naked and being my lover instead of my father. Nonetheless, I imagined kissing him, French kissing him while reaching down to feel his stiff prick through his pants. I imagined making out with him while allowing him to touch and feel me everywhere through my clothes.

Taking two to have sex and with me taking after my mother Natty, Nasty Natty, a skilled cocksucker, a huge understatement I loved stroking cock as much as I loved sucking cock. My compliment that I did a good job of sucking them, I loved it when men ejaculated cum in my mouth, all over my face, and gave me a cum bath. I imagined unzipping him, pulling out his stiff prick, and giving him a hand job before moving to my knees to give him a blowjob.

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