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

With us at men’s mercy, it wasn’t easy being a woman back then. Men had all of the power and control, sexual and otherwise while women were their willing and/or unwilling victims. Whether stripping us naked and/or forcing us to blow them, especially at the annual Christmas party, men were always groping us and forcing us to do sexual things that we weren’t ready to do.

In the hands of a master lover, the men my age didn’t know how to romance a woman. They didn’t know how to sexually seduce a woman. They didn’t know how to make love to a woman. Rushing the sex and not taking the time to get us sexually aroused, they were clueless to what women wanted and needed.

Uniquely different, instead of wanting me to blow him, he wanted to make love to me. Instead of cumming in my mouth, he wanted to fuck me and cum in my pussy. Instead of wanting me to suck him, he wanted to fuck me.

Unfortunately, I was too drunk to realize that he wasn’t wearing a condom. Luckily, one of my friends knew his name and where he worked. Two weeks later, when I discovered that I was pregnant, I confronted him and told him that I was pregnant. Without even having to ask him, he willingly gave me money for an abortion.

# # #

I staggered in my front door with my blouse unbuttoned, my naked breasts dangling out of my front snapping bra, my skirt on backwards, my hair a mess, and my lipstick smeared. Obvious to my mother, who had been there plenty of times before, something my mother did all the time, she knew that I had sex with a man that I had just met. Like mother like daughter, I felt like such a whore.

Yet, a night to remember and one that I’d never forget, while making out with him, I remember allowing him to feel my big tits through my bra. I loved having my breasts felt while French kissing. Never having felt the touch of an older man, a man old enough to be my father, I allowed him to unbutton my blouse and grope me through my brassiere. Not nearly stopping there, I allowed him to unhook my front snapping bra and remove my breasts from my bra.

How could I forget? Yet, something I never wanted to remember. Only several months earlier, I had been with older men, four of them. I suddenly remembered my four brothers gang raping me on my 18th birthday for giving them lip.

‘Happy birthday to me,’ I thought while forced me to sexually endure them fucking me.

Ripping off my clothes, they stripped me naked. Never was I as embarrassed as I was with my four brothers seeing me naked, touching and feeling my naked body everywhere, and having their wicked way with my naked, virginal body. With none of them wearing condoms, with them all brutally fucking me and cumming inside of me, not that time of the month, I was fortunate that I wasn’t pregnant. The last thing that I needed was to have a baby by one of my brothers.

Yet, this was different than being gang raped by my four, perverted brothers. With me so sexually aroused, I wanted to have sex with Grant. With sucking cock my specialty, I wanted to blow him. I wanted to suck his cock. I wanted him to cum in my mouth. I wanted him to cum all over my face and across my naked breasts. I wanted him to give me a cum bath.

Yet, it wasn’t Grant that gave me what I wanted. It was my four brothers that sexually satisfied me. After stripping me naked and before fucking me, they forced me to blow them. They forced me to allow them to cum in my mouth. They forced me to swallow their cum.

As if he had never seen or felt a woman’s naked breasts before, he was all over my big tits. A huge understatement, he loved my big tits. Touching them, feeling them, fondling them, groping them, and sucking them, he had his wicked, sexual way with my naked breasts. Yet, oddly enough, drunker than I thought I was, I never felt him go under my short skirt and remove my panties. I didn’t know that he had removed my panties until I felt his stiff prick inside of my soaking wet pussy.

Slowly humping me, he made love to me. Then, humping me harder and humping me faster, as if he fucked me as if he was fucking his daughter. A new, sexual experience, submitting to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned his hard and fast humps with my hard and fast humps. As if I was fucking my father, I fucked him. I fucked Grant Bentley.

Other than the time my brothers gang raped me, having never had sexual intercourse before I was assuredly having consensual, sexual intercourse now. Then, as if he was shot, he abruptly stopped humping me when he ejaculated load of cum inside of my pussy. I had no idea that he wasn’t wearing a condom until I felt his cum running down my legs. I had no idea that this was the creation of my son, Mathew.

# # #

Even though I told him that I was 18-years-old and showed him my driver’s license, with me always looking so much younger, he didn’t believe me. Fearing that I was underage, when I wasn’t, nonetheless, thinking twice about fucking me, he gave me ten-thousand-dollars not to report him to the police for rape. Then, when he disappeared like a thief in the night, I never heard from him or saw him again.

A year later and every year thereafter, he continued sending me ten-thousand-dollars. He sent me a stack of one-hundred, hundred-dollar-bills in a sack and sealed in a registered and insured envelope. With his donation supplementing my income, now, I had enough money to buy all that I needed for my baby.

Even though I thought about aborting my baby, I couldn’t. With me a Catholic in good standing, I couldn’t abort my baby nor could I put my baby up for adoption. It was wrong to murder my child as much as it was wrong to abandon my baby. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. Already attached to my baby before my baby was even born, I loved my baby.

This was my baby. This was my flesh and blood. This was my child. When he gave me that much money without even having to ask him, I figured he was rich. Moreover, I figured that he was married. I figured he had children and I’d be right on all three accounts. He was rich and he was married with children. It was easier to give me money every year to avoid a scandal.

Instead of using the money to have an abortion, needing it for that, I kept the money for myself. I used the money to buy diapers, formula, baby clothes, a baby carriage, a stroller, and nursery furniture. I didn’t tell Grant that I was keeping my baby. I don’t know how he did but he found out anyway.

With him already knowing that I kept my baby, there was no need to tell him. Besides, I never saw him again. An older man who, no doubt, wanted to keep his reputation intact, he had a big job as senior vice-president at a major bank in Boston.

With me not staking any claim on him and him not staking any claim on me or on our child, having nothing to do with one another, except for him giving me a yearly, ten-thousand-dollar stipend, he was out of the picture anyway. Disappearing in the night, after confronting him at his office, I never saw him again. Instead, I stayed away from the fast life.

Leave a Comment