“There were some words here I didn’t know. I needed to ask my English teacher, today.”
Oh, that had been his hurry. “Please, let go.”
“Just a sec. Now that you’re here.” His eyes pierced mine with lust. “Let me read it to you.” He released my hand. “Sit down.”
The only place was on his bed. I could have ran, but my son’s passion, seemed directed at the book. He read as I sat, ready to bolt past him. “‘Mommy, are you my cum slut?’
“‘No. That’s a pinnacle of abomination!’ The freshly raped mother lied.” Race turned to me. “See, Mom. I bet, you’re just like this mom. You’ve been lying to me.”
“No, Honey, don’t ever think that. I wouldn’t lie to you, even after you force yourself on me. I want to help you!”
“Yeah! That’s it!” He got excited, and turned a few pages. “Here it is. The mom says, ‘Mommy just want’s to help you, Honey.’ The boy answers, ‘Help me cum then, Mommy!'” Race slammed the book shut as if he had proven his point. The tawdry cover had a colored drawing of a young man wearing bulging cotton briefs, looming over his naked mother posed so that you could see her out-thrust tits but not her groin. The title was “Mommy’s Rape Son” by Kat-
“Mom!” Race called. I blinked and looked back at him.
“No! I thought you didn’t believe in these books!”
“When did I say that?” He disbelieved me. “Oh, what I meant, after feeding my cum to you was, I agreed those kind of book are worse than fairy tales. Fairy tales are for little kids. Kids shouldn’t be allowed to read these. These books are meant for you and me.” Race launched himself out of his chair at me, knocking me across his bed and his Sousaphone off of its stand. I kicked and slapped. He was better at blocking my blows. In a flash I was pinned to the bed, and my son began stripping me.
“You need to stop wearing these.” He had struggled to release my bra and pull it off. I had tried to twist and escape, but he was like a python, curled around his victim. “I’m going to fuck you proper this time, Mom. Maybe if I mix things up, you’ll mind-break quicker.”
“That’s never going to happen!” I rebelled. He stripped my pants faster than the bra. I had worn my pair with the most buttons. Unfortunately, he wore some with just as many and familiar with their efficient separation. Naked except for my bleach white panties I continued to pummel him with my knees and my fists. He took every one with hardly a flinch. I didn’t hold back. I know I was hurting him. His father had conditioned him to endure worse.
Reaching for the crotch of my panties, he thumbed it aside and exposed my hairy vagina. “Are you wet yet, Mom?” His index finger probed. “I’m going to fuck you with your panties on. So I can take them for my prize after our juices mingle in them.” His finger had trouble finding ingress. I was dry as a witch. He pouted. “If you hang them over the front door, they’re suppose to turn any MILF who walks under them into a slut.” His voice lost power as his finger informed him of his incorrect assumption. He froze for a second, flashing his confusion.
He brightened. “Oh, yeah, I’m suppose to do this.” He spat into his hand and reached back to my puss. I had tired of punching him, but when his slick fingers penetrated my outer folds, I pounded his bed with my legs and fists, and I screamed. “Please, Son, don’t do this!”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll take my time.” His spit drenched fingers searched again and finally found my inner orifice. I expected him to thrust with all his might. Instead, he massaged my vaginal opening. With his other hand he toyed with my nipples, alternating between them. “We’ll see who’s book is right.” He smiled down at me, confident in his religion.
This time, it was Nature who betrayed me. My cleaving crevice wept to protect itself. Race’s patient fingers felt the change. “That’s better, Mom. See, you’ll be my slut in no time.”
A minute later, he was finger fucking my prick hole as far as fingers reached, while maintaining the same leisurely pace.
“Please, it just happens. I can’t control that.”
“Just like the books say. Mommies eventually lose all control.”
Two minutes later, he scooted down my body and pushed his cock into my wet cunt.
I yelled. I bucked and pummeled him. He only pummeled my sex in return, smiling with closed eyes. “Fucking you is incredible, Mommy.”
It occurred to me, at the worst time, that Race hadn’t called me “Mommy”, in years. It had only re-entered his vocabulary in the last two days. Why was I even thinking that, when my son was raping me and would cum inside me at any moment? I cursed him, and I pleaded. “Get out, wicked boy! Get out of Mommy’s special place for babies!”
“That’s right, Mommy. I can put a baby in you! That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” He fucked me harder. “Ooohh, I can’t hold it. Much. Longer!”
I panicked! “Race, you mustn’t! Don’t cum in me! It’s abomination!”
That really amped his pounding hips. The big prick drilling my cunt tore deeper inside, until he was pounding on my cervix! I screamed. “It hurts! STOP!”
He slowed, a bit. His glazed eyes blinked. It was my only chance.
“Let me drink your cum. You want Mommy to be your cum-slut, right?” I rattled off like a machine gun. “Shoot your big cock full of juice into mommy’s mouth, Honey. How can I ever learn to like, um, LOVE your cum if you aren’t consistent?”
“Ohh, Jeez!” His face lit up with indecision. He had less than three seconds. I opened my mouth wide. My eyes pleaded.
It took him one second to pull out and hop forward. His prick hiccuped and hot cum exploded over my face. He managed to poke my mouth for the second blast. Boiling semen flooded my tongue. I closed my lips on his heaving prick and sucked.
“Moan for me, Mommy!” He ordered.
I prevented myself from smiling. I didn’t moan. I did suck every last drop from my son’s spewing tool. It was the first time I had enough of the boy’s spend where I could actually taste it. I contemplated it’s disagreeable flavor while Race wiped his spunk from my face and into my receptive lips. His sperm stung my eyes.
“Good call, Mom.” He delighted. “It tastes so good, you’re crying.” There was no doubt in his mind that I would soon be begging him for his cum.
When I think about it, I guess I had. Not that I ever would again. I promised myself while rolling the last swipes of cooled semen across my tongue.
He ran a bath for me again. This was also new behavior. My son was changing in more ways than just into a rapist. I accepted a towel from him and stepped in. We were both bruised. Hot water and creamy soap help to sooth my ravishment. I assumed Race returned to his room to continue studying his rape books.
Recent memories flooded my wobbling mind. If I didn’t make sense of these horrible experiences, I would lose myself and not in the way that Race desired. I imagined myself a suicidal husk. The thought of involving the police or an abuse agency amused me for half a second, before believing with certainty, that I would end up behind bars. I wanted to run away from home. What would my heroes do in this case? Xena would have tossed the boy into a home for wayward youth. Hillary would have ignored the assaults, as long as she had time to run the country. My most secret hero, Courtney Love – well, let’s not consider her, it would only have proved Race’s case. They weren’t real people, anyway, at least not to me. Anne, my occasional tennis partner, she had two boys Race’s age. She was a top executive at a major hardware chain. She had two boyfriends who knew about each other. She had the best parties, and I always had admired the single men who flocked to them. Not that I had ever scored one of them beyond a quickie in one of her house’s many walk-in closets.