Message-ID: <63755asstr$1465405802@assm.asstr.org>
From: DiscipleN <thedisciplen@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: DiscipleN <thedisciplen@yahoo.com>
References: <1924283696.510988.1465324885046.JavaMail.yahoo.ref@mail.yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Fold, Spindle, and Mommy Rape  (mF, nc, rape, violent, incest)
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Date: Wed, 08 Jun 2016 13:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "fold, spindle, and mommy-rape.txt" begin>

Fold, Spindle, and Mommy Rape [mF, inc, nc, rape, violent]

   by DiscipleN

   Am I totally off the mark here, or should a mother not be exceedingly
cross at her child when he rapes her?  I've tried to find the answer from
books, support groups, or anyone having a reasonable pedigree, but the
topic quickly chills psychologists and social workers alike when I ask
them. Nobody seems to be talking about this!  It's almost as if other
mothers all over America don't have to deal with their son raping them on a
regular basis.  Right, and panda cubs are less cute than koalas.  Well,
this mother has had it up to her ovaries with incestuous sperm and is
determined to put an end to the silence about this national tragedy!

   I was so looking forward to having children and loving them and raising
them to live successful, happy lives.  My dreams, beginning before high
school, were very precise on the matter.  I would marry a handsome building
contractor, spend a few years just for ourselves, but not too many,
creating the perfect home and being the perfect husband and wife.  Then
after much careful planning and yes, education, we'd have two children,
first a son for him, and then a daughter for me.  Our boy would become a
great sousaphonist, and my little girl would grow up to fight for noble
causes like abandoned pets and corruption at the horse track.

   Some readers might think my dreams were perhaps a bit too specific, but
a woman should always know what she wants, in advance.  I am strong.  I am
woman.  I can do anything a man can do, as long as I'm married to him.

   Henry was not a building contractor, exactly, but he was hired
regularly, on cash contracts to caulk the windows of leaky old houses and
newly constructed town homes.  I figured he just needed to apply himself a
little more, and soon he'd be hiring illegal aliens and managing projects
for the city.  He was rather handsome, until misfortune intervened in my
life plan.  We'd been married nearly a year, a year of true marital bliss,
when a construction site crane toppled down and smashed Henry's left arm
and left leg, leaving him scared all along that side from forehead to pinky
toe.

   The very good fortune from that terrible accident was, Henry was still
able to impregnate me.  With my tongue firmly stuck out at Miss-fortune, we
did have a son.  We named him Race, after a character from Henry's
favorite, classic cartoon show, or some new reincarnation of it.  Henry
watched a lot of television after his accident.  I tried not to mind, and I
didn't complain at all about the name he chose for our nine week old fetus.
I would be the one who named my daughter, Patricia Annabel Chloe Cutter.  I
looked so forward to calling my darling daughter to my side, 'oh
PattyAnnie, come to Mommy!'

   I was sure I could nurse my devoted husband back to health and inspire
him to take the county contractor's exam.  I bought him audio tapes about
how to empower himself and succeed at government test taking.  I wanted
everything back that had been lost since his accident and more by the time
little Race arrived home, but Henry never seemed to understand how
important this was to me.  I asked him if he really preferred watching
television to supporting his family.  He told me to shut my fucking trap,
or he would shut it for me.  I had to learn this the hard way, many times
in our house, but there are already too many stories out there about that
social issue.  Little Miss-fortune had remembered not too kindly my moment
of defiance.  My story must press on, for the sake of mothers like me who
need to decide what to do about having a mommy rapist for a son.

   Compared to many other boys in our foothills town, Race at least HAD a
father around to learn him a man's way, while his mother worked two jobs to
support them.  Henry never had disability insurance, having worked under
the table all his life.  Our church's compassion support ended right after
Race was too old to be legally aborted.  Not that I've ever considered
abortion as anything but the vile murder of a human soul.  Even godless
terrorists know that; may God wipe them from the face of the Earth.  With
the decline in our family income, and Race's birthing and other medical
bills, suddenly, the idea of having a daughter right away wasn't as
endearing as it had been in high school.  I began to neglect my duty as a
woman cleaving unto her man.

   Henry didn't seem to mind, much.  Oh, he hollered and hit me regular for
a while, but after he started buying porno books, video tapes, and going
out and liquoring up wrinkled, old floozies, a fact I was only too happy to
ignore, he settled down and took his parental chores firmly in hand.  With
Race he did not spare the rod nor spoil the child.  My fair haired boy grew
up tough and fierce.  Our neighbors often complained that he was bullying
their children.  I consoled them with a few wise words about the high
spirits of children, their susceptibility to the lies of Satan, and
whatever cash I had saved in the cookie jar.

   Sometime around late puberty, Race finally convinced me he needed more
serious help than the Lord Almighty and his born again flock.  He killed
his father with our 'coon-n-'possum gun.

   That was the scandal.  I went through a lot of trouble convincing the
police to report it as an accident, I know very well that Henry did not
keep the gun loaded.  Race would have had to steal the key his father kept
in his old caulking toolkit, unlock the fishing and tackle box where the
shells were hidden, climb on a chair to reach the gun hanging over our fake
fireplace, and sneak into the shower and wait for when his dad next limped
to the toilet with a porno mag for the purpose of spilling his seed into
the septic tank.  The police found bits of ear on the hallway wall opposite
the bathroom door.  I think they just didn't want the notoriety of charging
a minor with an adult crime, because we made a deal before any of the
forensic evidence could be analyzed.  They wouldn't book charges if I
booked the boy with the county psychiatric ward.

   Not only did I sign Race's future care over to the state, I threw out
all the guns in our house and all of Henry's porn.  Fortunately, the county
mental center for juveniles was packed to the gills with abused, rural
children, and they relegated him back to my custody, but they didn't shirk
their compassionate duty.  Ronald Thames, a dedicated social worker, spent
the next three years visiting Race, working with him, and checking on the
evolution (pardon my french) of our family situation.  It all came to a
sudden end when Race discovered Ronald's attempts to improve our family
situation in my bed, weeks after Race had turned fourteen and was no longer
under Ron's care.

   I'm not sure why everyone got so upset.  Race's feistiness had been
mellowing for nearly three years before I decided Ronald was my best chance
to bring dear little Patricia Annabel Chloe into our lives.  Ronald was
married.  So I knew he wouldn't want to claim the child as his own.  I had
grown out of my widow's sorrow hours after Henry had been buried in the
ground.  Race was beginning to understand and accept the responsibilities
and troubles adulthood had placed upon him.  And lastly, we were almost
rich!

   I'd learned my lesson about flaunting my good fortune in front of Miss
Fortune.  After Henry had told me he had no disability insurance, I went
straight out and placed a life insurance policy on him to the tune of five
hundred thousand dollars!  Every week, no matter how hard it was to
withhold, I stuffed a ten dollar bill in the family bible we kept in the
living room bookshelf.  I was the only one who ever touched it.  Each third
month, for ten years, I paid the insurance bill, knowing that any day,
Henry would rise, healed by the Lord, and take up once more his place as
the provider for his family.  When he did, his family would already be
protected by this compassionate, economic shield.

   I paid off the mortgage to our house, hired a real contractor with real,
migrant workers, to finish it in style, and enrolled myself in a class to
earn a real-estate broker's license.  Half a million dollars is a fabulous
prize, but it wouldn't last a lifetime.  I even bought my son a Sousaphone.
Backed by the freedom of a high interest rate savings account and
reassuring signs that Race had learned to redirect his violent urges, I set
out to seduce the moderately attractive, but very hard working, Ronald.  He
fell under my spell with in a week of my early teasing.  Not bad for a
thirty five year old woman.  (Ronald was twenty five.)

   While Race went to his Sousaphone lessons, I dragged my carefully
selected victim into my room in order to fill the yearning in my loins.  I
wanted a daughter!  Unfortunately, my son had occasional misgivings about
playing the Sousaphone.  Instead of attending his lesson, he goofed off
with friends.  Returning earlier than I expected, he caught me pretending
to orgasm for our hard working social worker.

   The first time, he kept the discovery to himself, but he promised to
return from his next lesson earlier and get a good seat outside my window.

   On my third attempt at getting pregnant, my 'act' was interrupted by
motion at the window.  Thick, milk colored fluid, splashing upon plate
glass, drew my attention.  There, beyond my son's healthy dose of sperm,
Race grimaced in the throes of his orgasm.

   I didn't handle that scene very well.  My redirected attention caused
Ronald to notice the window.  He leaped off me and hauled his medium sized
instrument into his jeans.  Completely red faced he ran out of the room,
begging forgiveness from the Lord.

   A week later, I received a beautifully worded letter explaining that he
was no longer the right man to help my son.  On the same day, after reading
the letter to him, Race decided privately, what he needed help with would
not come from a man.  After honestly considering my own sins and failure to
be a mother worthy of his son's honor, I thought it wise to reintroduce my
family to God's merciful forgiveness.  I dragged him to church with me.

   My first rape occurred after his first attendance at sunday school.  It
was late Sunday night, and I was sitting in the living room reading
selected verses from my bible when Race wandered in and looked at me funny.

   "Mom, that sunday school teacher is a real ditz."

   "Be careful about profaning against the servants of the Lord, Race."

   "No, really.  She read this story about a guy who died before he could
get a kid on his wife.  So God tells the guy's brother to give the wife a
kid, but the brother refuses and earns God's wrath." Race shook his head in
disbelief.  "As if that weren't screwy enough, because God says in the ten
commandments, not to hanker after a guy's ass or his wife.  But then
everything got stupid when the teacher tells the class that the message
from this story says that masturbation is a sin!" My boy was showing his
repressed, but very real, clever side.

   "I don't think it's wise to judge the word of God, Race." I told him,
sincerely.

   "But that's not in the bible!" Race angered.  "It's just something the
dumb teacher said."

   "Don't you take that tone with me, young man." I suggested.

   "Aw, you're no better than that guy's wife." My son dismissed my
warning. "You just want another kid, a girl," he said with distaste, "and
you're willing to break a whole commandment to have one." Race had moved
right in front of my position on the couch to stare, mockingly at me.

   "We are all sinners." I reminded him.

   "Yea, but I just break what some dumb church teacher says is a sin.  You
broke one of God's big ten."

   "All sins are equal compared to the light of God's forgiveness." I
paraphrased.

   "Yea, really?  Are you sure about that?" Race had caught a glint of
incandescent light in his eye.

   "Honey, how can you doubt God's love?  Do you doubt my love?" I smiled
and reached out to muss his hair.  He ducked under my arm and then sprang
on top of me!

   "Race, what in heaven's name?" I yelled.

   "Screw heaven, mom.  I'm tired of jacking off and being told I'm
sinning. If that guy's brother is allowed to put his seed in the guy's
wife, then I can put mine into you!"

   "Get off me this instant!  That's ridiculous!  I'm your mother.  Get
your HANDS out of my blouse!"

   "Oh mom, you've got the best tits!" His initial momentum had knocked me
to one side, nearly down to the couch cushions.  The weight of his fourteen
year old body wasn't unbearable, but I found it hard to fight him at that
angle.

   "Stop it, I say!  That's my brassier." I had never hit my son, nor had I
ever wanted to.  I didn't particularly like it when Henry use to beat him,
in fact I preferred it when he'd beat me instead of our defenseless child.
I would often intervene and take blows that were meant for Race.  All of a
sudden, I was confused.  Race wasn't hitting me, but his hands were very
forceful.  His knees tried to corral my thighs, but they were too strong
for his legs to control very well.  I tried pushing him away, but he
grabbed my tits real tight through my bra and hung on.  I hurt myself
trying to escape.

   "This is a real mother.  How do you take it off?"

   "OW!  You don't.  You get off me!" I ordered.  I tried twisting my body
to shake him off, but his legs were easily strong enough to ride out my
attempts.

   "Stop fighting me mom.  I'm going to give you that baby you want."

   "It's not right.  You're my son!" I tried rolling off the couch, but he
dropped one foot to the floor and countered my movement.

   "That must be a whole lot better than daddy's brother."

   The kid had a point.  Henry's brother James, made Henry look like a
model father.  Fortunately, James was still serving a twenty year sentence
for nearly killing a woman police officer while raping her.  There wasn't a
parole board on either side of the Rockies that would pardon him.

   "So you want to end up like your Uncle James?" I tried to reason with my
son, as his hands suddenly broke the front clasp to my bra.  His fingers
zeroed in on my nipples, which had become quite hard.

   "No way.  You aren't going to tell no cops." He had already reasoned it
out.  "You know what I did to father, and you know why, and you didn't tell
anyone."

   "But why are you doing this?" I tried to pull his grip off my naked tits
and his hands out from under my blouse.

   "Because you're such a fucking tease, Mommy!  For the last month you've
been waving your short short skirt covered ass and deep cleavage in front
of Ron, and I had to watch you do it!  I've decided that I might as well
have some, now that he's gone."

   "No, son that's evil.  You have to stop!" My woman's arms proved
stronger than his young one and I finally extracted his claws from my
mauled breasts.  Or maybe he simply decided to switch tactics.  Although
his hands stayed from my rumpled blouse, they flew right to his shorts and
unbuttoned them.  A second later he had unzipped them.

   "Don't you dare do that!" I shouted anew.  This time I was able to twist
out from under his weight and jump off of the couch.  The little guy was
fast then.  I can tell you that.  He spun around behind me and dove for my
ankles.  I was already off balance and when his hands pulled my feet out
from under me, I fell front down to the carpet.

   "OHH, UMPH!  <thump!> Race, I mean it.  You're really making mommy
angry." I felt his hands reaching up under my skirt.  It wasn't as short as
the ones I used to seduce Ronald, but it wasn't a far reach for him to grab
my cotton panties beneath it.  "NOO!"

   "But mommy, you're going to like it so good, when I put my dick inside
you.  I remember how much you liked Ron's.  Mine's bigger!"

   "I was faking it!" I honestly thought it might make him reconsider.  I
tried to push myself up, but Race had already thrown his weight on top of
me, trying to disentangle my panties from my hairy bush.  "OW!" My arms had
gone numb after my fall.  I didn't have the strength to push myself up and
get away.

   Instead, I tried rolling, but before I could wrench my hips around, his
young fingers found my cunt.  "Ohh NOO!  You have to STOP that, honey!" It
felt like I had been spitted and the shock stopped me mid-roll.  I just had
to reach down and pull his hands off me, again!

   "Wow, Mommy, I never felt a pussy before!" He marveled at the same time
he shouldered me back on my stomach.  "You gotta let me feel your puss. 
It's awesome!"

   "Okay," I squirmed, unable to disengage his deeply probing fingers.  FMy
clit swelled up from his eager attentions.  "But you have to get off of me
after you do!"

   "Sure mom.  Wow, this is great!" He reached right through my vulva and
diddled curiously on my g-spot.  My flesh responded with energetic
secretions.

   "Honey, you gotta stop now." I told him.

   "Just wait a minute, I'm still feeling you." He batted my hands that
were trying to block my backside.  "I can't get a good feel.  If you get up
on your knees, I can finish a lot quicker." He eased most of his weight off
of my back.

   It seemed like a reasonable offer.  I had no reason to believe my son
wouldn't honor his promise.  He was a messed up kid, but he had never been
a liar.  I got my tingling arms underneath me and without his weight, I was
able to draw myself up on all fours.

   He felt around inside my cunt for another few seconds and then withdrew
his hand with a slurp.  Thank heavens!  I sighed and shook my head.  "Now,
I'm not going to punish you this time, but - OOOOOF!!" Something wide and
hard stuffed itself into my slick fuck box.  "No son, I said you couldn't
DO THIS!  You promised me you wouldn't."

   His young rod kept forcing its way inside it's mother's cunt.  "I said
I'd get off you when I was done feeling around inside of you.  You didn't
say I couldn't feel around you with my dick!"

   "NOOO, that's all wrong.  You have to pull out!" I tried to make my
break and scramble away.

   He was ready for me.  He'd wrapped his hands around my waist and simply
fell over my back to keep me from rising.  All I ended up doing was
dragging him a few feet before my arms gave out again.  His cock did pull
out, quite a bit of it.  Then he thrust it back in.

   He must have taken my momentary exhaustion for capitulation.  "See, I
told you you'd like it when I got in you!" His fuck motion began a first
rhythm in my cunt.  The thick head of his prick never left my birth canal,
but its seemingly amazing length drew in and out of it's captured hole for
several seconds between each stroke.  My cunt had never felt so full.

   "You can't fuck your mommy!  Stop it, right now!" I gave him my sternest
voice, one he had rarely failed to heed.  It failed.  My son's thick cock
continued to stroke inside his mommy.

   "Be quiet, Mommy.  I'm still feeling around inside you.  I want to get
off, but you're spoiling my mood." His first lurches were uncoordinated,
but he soon found a rhythm that worked for our disparate bodies.  His hands
locked around my waist in case I tried to leap up again.  It took his cock
several tries before he could pound his meat into me with a satisfying
sensation.  Satisfying?  He thought it was awesome!  "Oh, mom.  It feels so
good!  I know I can cum."

   "Ooo, when I get my hands on you...!" I threatened.  My stuffed pussy
was generating volumes of slick fluid for his raping cock.  I tried hard
not to think about his fuck tool plowing into my cunt from behind, but my
body was unable to not think about it.  God's design was being fooled by a
devil.

   "I know you'll love it too, mommy.  I read all about it." He tried to
lead me astray.

   "What do you mean, read it?" I asked hotly.  His hands had begun to
loosen their grip.  They were reaching for my tits again.  My yellow blouse
was still secured by three buttons, but my brassier must have fallen off
somewhere closer to the couch.  Nope, it was stuffed up under my armpit. 
Whenever his balls slammed into the back of my thighs, my body hurled
forward and my armpit contracted around the cotton and foam rubber ball of
lingerie.

   "Those books you threw away after dad died.  I grabbed a whole bunch of
them before the garbage men came." Race started bucking his oversized cock
into me as he grew more excited.  They tell all sorts of great stories
about mommies and their boys." Yep, his hands had found my tits again and
he was trying to pinch my nipples.  "The mommy's always complain at first,
but after the boy fucks his mom, she likes it so much she wants him to fuck
her lots more.  She even sucks on her son's cock and let him fuck her in
the ass!"

   My cunt lurched, and my nipples punched out at their fresh invasion. 
"That's disgusting!  Race, this isn't a book.  You're raping your mother.
It's really, really wrong!  I don't like it at all.  You're hurting me!"
The last bit was an exaggeration, but I needed everything I could think of
to try and stop him.

   "But that can't be!" He cried, "You're all wet inside, just like it says
in the books." The slick goo in my drooling passage allowed him to increase
his penetration.  I could feel his cock head banging into my womb's
entrance.  If my son came right now, he'd shoot his incestuous sperm right
into his mommy's baby oven.

   "I am not." I openly stretched the truth.  "You're getting me all wet.
Pull out now and let me dry myself!"

   "Not, <huff> until I, <puff> cum!" Race shouted in defiance.  His
plunging tool rippled from the pleasures it was extracting from my sperm
sluice.  I could feel it throb, producing similar tremors in my weeping
sheath.

   He was about to cum.  His rhythm lost steam as his entire frontal
musculature started twitching in anticipation of an explosion.  My
unprotected and very fertile womb could not be allowed to drink from it's
progeny's fertilizer.  I took my last chance.

   "I said, NO, damn it!" I screamed and reached around for his cock and
grabbed it.  Without my arms to support the rest of me, I fell head first
to the carpet, but I twisted and curled into a fetal ball.  This resulted
in a very rapid extraction of my son's bulging cock from his mother's
dripping hole.  Freed from my cunt, but not my grip his cock was aimed
towards my left side, particularly at my tit there.  Lust hot cum blasted
out from his dick and poured all over his mother's side, coating my breasts
with white, sticky fuck sauce, warming my nipples deliciously.  I was
tempted to rub its heat into my rigid bumps.

   "Christ!  I'm CUMMING!" Race exploded.  He hollered all manner of fuck
talk he'd read in his dad's porno books.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  My
son had just spewed loads of his cum onto my body, but none of it, I hoped,
had reached his mother's breeding place.

   Race pulled my hand off his retreating hard-on.  He jacked it swiftly to
get every drop of cum on my body and to feel the last surges of delight in
his orgasm delirious head.  I prayed my thanks to God, knowing that right
had been done in the end.

   But Race wasn't finished with me.  He'd read far too many of those
wretched, raunchy, mom-son novels to believe they were anything but the
secret truth between man and woman.  Actually, I was scraping his fuck
slime off of my tits, using the balled up bra to soak up his lost sperm. 
It was chilling fast, when he crawled around to my head.  I thought he was
going to apologize.

   "That wasn't fair, mom.  You're suppose to let me preg you.  No wonder
you don't cum during a fuck!"

   "I've heard quite enough of your mouth for one day, mister..." I glared
at him and sat up on my knees.  "I'm going to ground you so hard for what
you did to me, you'll be digging up for an air hole- <glorp!>." Race shoved
his limp cock into the word 'hole', choking it off at the source.  I
shrieked and nearly bit him!

   "I'm just starting to have enough of your mouth, mommy." He delighted.
"Now suck me good, like is says in my books." We began a war of arms and
hands struggling to extract his cock from or keep it inside his mother.  I
was still stronger than my son, but he was just as horny as when he first
assaulted me, and I was weary and still confused by the entire situation.
How could any boy rape his mother?  Now he was raping my mouth!  I
struggled as best I could, but I couldn't make up my mind as to just how
angry I should be.  I was terribly angry when he surprised my exposed cunt
with his first cock thrust.  Now I was nearly furious at the vulnerable
meat pressed between my jaws, but all I could think about was how, for most
of my son's life, his father would beat him for the slightest thing.  Even
if I bit him, how would Race know that physical punishment for raping his
mother was more meaningful than any of the hundreds of beatings he'd taken
without provocation?  I was powerless to stop my boy from raping me!

   "Moan for me, Momma.  Moan like you did for Ronald.  I'll cum again,
inside your noisy mouth!" His prick plunged my only way to rebuke him. 
"Damn, your mouth feels almost as good as your puss."

   "Nggllgghh!" I gurgled defiantly.

   He laughed and reached for my blouse, tearing the last of it from my
tits.  His hand mauled me, and his cock dived to the back of my throat.  I
choked.  My lungs were being abused from two directions.

   "I've got plans for you, Mommy.  Since you didn't take my cum where it
belongs, I'm going to turn you into a cum lover, like in the books." The
idea must have spurred his second arousal that day.  I felt his cock pulse
with promise.  "Sperm is suppose to be delicious and healthy, and you'll be
addicted in no time."

   I stamped my feet with disbelief and a desperate need to breath!  If he
didn't cum in my throat quickly, I would suffocate.  Already, stars winked
at me around the corners of my eyes.  Lids shut, I thrashed my body, but he
was stronger this time.  And having just ejaculated all over his mommy's
body, he wasn't due for another blast for a while, I feared.

   Occasionally, when his dick pulled back far enough, I could suck a
little air through my nose.  I realized that thrashing around frustrated
his rhythm not his attack.  He latched onto my tits and leaned to suck on
them.  To get air, I had to compromise.  I still stamped my feet, as it was
the only way to continue signaling disapproval.  His knees pinned my arms
to the carpet.  His mouth sucked a hard nipple and his teeth teased it. 
Now he was making it more difficult for me to match sniffs of air with his
pumping prick.  I groaned, barely holding on to consciousness.

   "That's more like it!" Race gloated!  He pumped me harder and twisted my
other nipple with sharp finger nails.

   "NGHHHHHHH!!"

   "Heh.  You'll learn, Mo- Ooohhh!" His bucking hips stalled. 
"Uuunnnggghh!" Whatever he had imagined in his head tipped his balls over
the edge.  A flood of sperm surprised me.  So soon?  I gulped but mostly
coughed.  Sperm flew out around the edges of my mouth.  He pistoned further
gouts from his firehose deep into my face.  I swallowed and swallowed.  The
only bit I could actually taste was what I had coughed up.  It was not at
all sweet or any manner of tasty, mixed with my saliva and stomach acid.

   "Momma!  Suck me dry!" He bellowed.  His head shook, eyes clenched shut
to keep the explosions inside his victorious head.  The prick in my mouth
dove hard and deep, a final plunge.  It's last squirts barely tickled my
gullet.

   "MMNGH!  MMNGH!  MMNGH!  MMNGH!" I spent the last of my air screaming
against his cock.  My face must have been blue.  He looked at me, with a
smile like a cartoon Kaiser.

   Finally, he pulled out.  "Not bad for a first rape, huh, Mom?" He sat up
on his knees, still pinning my arms.

   I gasped for air.  My eyes were open, but I lost all sight.  It was that
close.  There was nothing I could say.  He continued to taunt me with his
conquest.

   "Wasn't my cock real good?  Much better than that social loser."

   "Hey, Mom, you should lick that cum from your lips." I didn't, so he
used a finger to wipe it into my lips.  My tongue tried to reject his
finger, but he tweaked a nipple with his other hand.  I yelped and his
finger pushed the last of his ejaculate into his mother's face.

   "There'll be more.  Some books take whole chapters before the mommy begs
her son for fresh cum."

   I continued to breath.  My sight slowly returned.  His knees lifted but
left bruises on my forearms.  Instinctively, I huddled my arms around my
breasts.  My knees were already clenched together.  Race stood.  "I'll run
a bath for you, Mom." He left me.

   Later, I wondered why I had not cried.  In terms of battery, his rape
barely matched his father's lesser assaults.  Race's betrayal fully
wrenched my heart.  Water crashing into a tub was the closest thing to
tears in our house.

   I clawed myself up with the help of a chair.  Hearing the tap close.  I
wobbled down the hall.  I hardly had anything left to strip when I reached
the bathroom.  I expected Race to leer at my ministrations.  Instead he
handed me a towel and left, closing the door behind him.

   His face had lost its evil.  His heart hadn't though.  I was sure.  He
was his father's son.

   I stayed in the hot water until it shivered me.  I needed to feel safe.
But after two hours, I was nearly blue again.  I crawled out, some energy
returned, but cold.  After drying, I wrapped the towel around my torso and
sat on the toilet.  I had to make him understand.

   I heard him watching television.  I snuck out and locked myself in my
room.

   Knocking woke me to Monday.  "Mom?  Are you okay?  It's nine AM." Race
sounded concerned.

   For my work as an agent, I hired a desk from a local real estate office.
I could come an go as much as I pleased.  I wished I was already there. 
Race was late for school, though.  "Have you eaten?"

   "I'm more worried about you."

   "Then, go on to class.  We'll talk when you get back home." I tried.

   Several "tinks" sounded from the knob.  He knew how to unlock it from
the outside.  I knew that he knew.  I had hoped...

   Race pushed the door open and walked in naked.  "Hurry, Mom.  I have to
get dressed."

   "Huh?" I saw his erection.  Proud and eager, it bobbed towards me. 
Under the sheet and blankets, I still wore the damp towel from the
afternoon before.  He tore at the bedding and hopped onto the mattress. 
His prick aimed at my eyes.  "You need to be fed, Mom." His hands grabbed
my head and he punched cock into my lips.  It meet clenched teeth.

   "Ow!  Mom.  You hurt me!" He pretented the victim.  His hands tightened
their grip.  "Open up.  I don't have time."

   I shook my head.  I wanted to remind him how wrong this was, but I dared
not open my mouth.

   Then he surprised me.  He leaned forward and kissed my lips, spitting
into them.  When I spat it back, his fingers pushed my cheeks between my
teeth and forced my jaw open.  Cock returned to it's mother's forced
tongue. "God, your mouth feels better than yesterday!" He pumped his prick
quickly.

   To avoid suffocating again, I matched his thrusting with my breaths, in
and out.

   "Moan for me, Mom!  Moan for me, like you did last time."

   I had NOT moaned.  I had maybe groaned.  It seemed like an important
difference at the time.  Less than twenty four hours had passed since
having my son's cock fuck my face for the first time.  I slapped his arms
with my hands, but mine had little strength.  My anger was still asleep.

   Race lasted a minute, maybe two before unloading his balls into my
mouth. I doubt he had tried to hold back.  He wanted to get to school.  Why
now, I wondered.  He was a fair student but had never been eager to go. 
Did something about raping his mommy's lips and throat promote academic
attendance?

   Once again I choked on his semen.  He pushed deep with his prick and
poured the stuff down my neck.  The little I tasted was slightly better
without my retch fluid.  I had managed his raping dick without suffocating.
Pulling out, he told me again.  "You should lick up what you didn't
swallow."

   I frowned.  He smiled and stretched a finger to my cheeks and chin.  He
dumped his escaped seed into the hole he had intended.  "You'll have to
shower, this time, Mom.  I've gotta go."

   I cried in the shower.  He hadn't even given me a chance to explain how
wicked his actions were, how un-godly, and how forceful he was becoming.  I
resolved to fight whatever demon had possessed my son.  I read the bible
all day.

   I knew exactly when he would return from school.  When Race was in a
hurry home, it took exactly twenty three minutes from when the last bell
rang.  I waited inside the door, bible in one hand, a wooden spoon in the
other.  I had been making cookies, and I wasn't aware of holding the spoon.
I had spotted the clock just in time and had raced to the door.  The lock
clicked and the door swung in.

   "Oh, good!" He smiled.  His arms went for a hug.  I stepped back, but
not far enough.  "Mmm, Mom.  It's good to be home.  And you were waiting
for me!" He hugged me gently.  I blinked, trying to recompose my
righteousness.

   "Son, we need to talk.  I believe you have succumbed to-"

   "Sure, Mom." He saw the bible.  "Did you want to pray?  Get on your
knees."

   "Yes!" I brightened.  Maybe he had considered his evil.  He knelt
slighty.  "Let us pray, to rid this curse from you." My smiled beamed hope
at him, and my knees touched the carpet before his."

   "Oops!  The door." He spun around and closed it.  Pray was a private
matter, I agreed.  If forced to in public, one must not be ashamed to show
true faith.

   "Oh, heavenly Father." I began.  I heard a zipper.  He turned back to
me. His cock swung like a baseball bat.  I dodged away.

   "Pray to me, Mom.  It'll be good practice for when you really are my
slave." He slapped me.  "But never, EVER, say 'father'!"

   His attack stunned me long enough to find my son's prick plunging once
more into my mouth, his hands pressing the back of my head.  This time he
had betrayed God.  That hurt more than his raping cock.  Still, I didn't
cry.  I had to survive my son's fresh assault.  I had to breathe, I told
myself.  Sobs would disturb my timing.

   I discovered that by tightening my lips at the right time and pressing
on the underside of my boy's retreating prick, I could fine tune his
fucking of my face.  He could dig deeper into my gullet and I could pull in
more air than the first two times.

   "Ohhh, That's it, Mom, tongue me and suck me!" Race delighted.  This
time he tried to hold out.  His prick stabbed beyond my tongue for nearly
four minutes before he howled with glee.  "Uuunnnngggghh!!!  YEAAAAH!" His
cock pressed hard, and his cum blasted down my throat.  "Cuummmmiingg,
Moooomm!!!"

   This time, there wasn't any sperm on my face for him to wipe into my
mouth.  I had hardly tasted any of it.  He wasn't phased.  "Tasted good, I
bet.  Huh, Mom?"

   This was my first chance in two days.  "Race, those books are worse than
fairy tales.  You can't turn women into cum sluts!"

   "I know.  I know, Mom" He pushed his withering, shining dick into his
pants and zipped up.  "Just like that book couldn't turn Dad into a nice
man."

   Our bible remained clenched in my left hand.  He left me staring at it.

   "That felt really good, Mom." Were his parting words.

   After baking the cookies, I ate one.  The Holy Bible was now their
trivet.  I left the kitchen and knocked on Race's door.

   "What is it?  I'm studying."

   I'd never caught my boy studying.  His father would threaten to beat
him, but that was years ago.  I guess I had assumed Race studied.  It's
just that I rarely visited when he was in his room.

   "I won't bother you, then."

   "Those cookies smell pretty great."

   "Do you want one?"

   "Do you have one?" I guessed he didn't want me to bother him again, if I
didn't.

   "Yes." I turned the door knob and entered holding up a saucer with two
warm treats.

   Race sat at his small desk, a paperback book lay on it.  He couldn't
have been more than two or three chapters in.  Taking up a quarter of his
room, a worn Sousaphone waited on its stand.

   "I'll set these here." I placed the saucer on the closest corner.  His
hand grabbed my wrist!

   "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.

   What would Anne do?  What if one, or both, of her boys tried to force
themselves on her?  Maybe she had studied Karate and would tie THEM up with
their own arms and legs.  Should I study Karate?  That would take too long,
I huffed.  My thoughts turned to the cooling water.  I didn't want to
freeze like last time.  I ended my bath and toweled myself harshly.  Going
to my room, I grabbed my cell phone from my purse.  I had to charge it. 
Waiting for it to come back to life, I dithered over what I was going to
say.  Everything sounded either awkward or insane.  I tapped "Anne" in my
contacts and the phone came alive.  My hand quivered.

   "Hello?"

   "Oh, Anne, it's Lainey.  Have you studied Karate?"

   "Lainey?" I gritted my teeth at her confusion.  "What?"

   "Oh, I-I'm having trouble with my boy-"

   "Take him back to the nut house, Lainey.  Let The Man sort him out."

   "But he's been better.  He studies more." Porn, I winced on the inside.

   "Then what's the issue?  I don't have much time, but for you, another
two minutes."

   "H-he's become very s-s-sexual." Two minutes!  How could I figure this
out in two minutes?  "I tried to instill the joy of Holy God, took him to
sunday school all these years-"

   "I can hear you're afraid, Sweetheart.  Don't be.  My boys are champing
at the bit to spread their DNA, but I made a deal.  They wear condoms, or I
cut off their balls."

   Horrified!  Her words completely horrified me.  How could she make a
pact with two raping sons?  Was she a succubus, a whore, a slut?  "May God
have mercy on your family!" I prayed for her from my heart.

   "Hey, it isn't that bad.  I let them do it at home.  So I know who
they're doing it with.  Some of their gir-"

   "I'm sorry.  Those two minutes must be up.  Be brave, Anne.  God's love
will save you." I tapped the disconnect icon.  Dropping the phone, I held
my face and cried.  The friend I most admired sounded like she welcomed
girding by her sons'.

   At some point, Race knocked on my bedroom door.  "I'm hungry, Mom.  I
don't want to eat just cookies."

   I put on control top panties and a bra and a thick house robe.  Race
helped with peeling carrots and washing broccoli.  He seemed, happy.  He
even prepared the table for the pot roast I first microwaved then baked to
sear the surface.  Race took everything to the table for me.  He even held
my seat.

   "I know it's been rough on you, Mom.  Me too, but we'll get through
this."

   I sat, unable to respond.  I simply wanted to eat, run back to my room,
and wedge a chair under the doorknob.  Beside the fork and knife was a
paperback book.

   It's colorful, rushed illustration depicted a matronly woman, bare
breasted, wearing white panties.  She was tied standing to a wall.  At her
sides were two boys, one with a whip and another with a cattle prod.  The
bulges in their cotton briefs were unmistakable.  Her brown-blonde hair
made me think of Anne.  I shook my head, to tear my eyes and thoughts from
the evil tome entitled, "Two Rape Sons for Mom" by Kath"You should read
that." Race said with a mouth full of stringy beef.

   I ducked my head and focused on my food.  I ate a few bites but wasn't
hungry.  I stood up, pushing back my chair.  "Just leave me alone." I
sobbed and ran to my bedroom.

   The trick with the chair must have worked.  An hour later the door
rattled.  Then "Two Rape Sons for Mom" slid in under it.  Dressing for bed.
I kneeled and prayed, for strength.  I picked up the book and dumped it in
my spotless wastebasket.  Crawling under the covers, I despaired.  "My life
was surrounded by rape.

   I did not kill myself, but I couldn't sleep.  I had to face a devil and
defeat it.  Best to fight a small one first.  I got out of bed, turned on
the light, and retrieved Race's disgusting book.  He had used their words
against me.  Maybe I could find ones to refute him, but I had left my bible
in the kitchen.

   The woman's ravishment didn't start until the third chapter.  The first
was innocent enough, almost sweet, except "Donna" admitted that she longed
to have a strong man after her husband had died rescuing ponies from a
flood.  In the second chapter, she witnessed her two boys playing with a
neighbor girl.  When their play got a little rough, Donna stepped in and
stopped them.  She sent the girl home, rightfully, except the tart didn't
appreciate being saved, as if she'd enjoyed how Donna's sons had started to
tear off her clothes.  I stopped reading partway into the third chapter,
when her sons had tied her up in her sleep.  They woke their mom and
dragged her through the house with a chain around her neck, until they
reached the garage.  Pinning "Mommy" to a wall, they escalated their evil
deeds.

   Sick and wishing I hadn't eaten anything, I raced to the master bath and
upchucked into the toilet.

   Race found me in a nightshirt and panties, washing my mouth.  He
grinned, "Supper wasn't the food that you need, huh?" He cupped his exposed
balls and hefted them.

   "How did you get in?" I stared at my son's groin and gulped.

   "Oh, Mommy, I know you're not dumb.  If I can fit a book under your
door, I can fit a pole under and push the legs out from a leaning chair. 
The internet has answers for everything!"

   "Does it have an answer for protecting a mom from rape?"

   His eyes lit up.  "Gee, you liked the book that much?  I figured I'd
have to supply you with half of my collection before you wanted to read
porn on the internet!  You're coming along nicely.  Are you ready for a
snack that'll soothe your tummy?" He strutted closer.

   I managed to push past him, but he caught me exiting to the hall.  I
fell on my hands and knees.  His hands dived to my panties and he stripped
them over my ass and down to my ankles before I could defend myself.  I
kicked back, ineffectually due to the panties.

   "I guess I could fuck you on this end, Mommy." His cock found a dry
pussy, once more.  "Hrrgg." He grunted.

   Instead of spitting in his hand, he leaned down and kissed my sex.  His
tongue laved spit into my vulva.  "You have a tasty pussy, Mommy.  I'll
make it plenty wet, until it catches up with your needs."

   "No, Race, you can't fuck your Mommy." I pounded the carpet with my
fists.  I tried reaching back and hitting his head, but he just took the
blows.  I didn't have the courage or hatred to remind him of his more
abusive parent, until I felt his big prick push into me.  It took a second
for him to find the right spot to sink in deep.  I cursed!  "Damn you,
Race. You have to listen to me!  Obey your Mommy!"

   His cock roared into full gear.  He pumped it into me like he'd been
fucking for years.  My pussy gobbled his spit coated prick against my will.
"Oooohhhh, SOO much better than your mouth, Mommy, like the books say."

   He'd already experienced fucking into my cunt, but his time he felt more
confident of his strokes.  Nature wanted sex to be accessible, at least
physically.  Fucking me doggie style let him control me more easily.  His
hand on my hips shifted my body to accommodate his pace.  The fuck meat in
my cunt ground in and out, while I wailed.  "Get your penis out of Mommy!"
and "Don't think of cumming in me, Race!"

   My son grunted with victory, the more I complained and opposed him.  He
fucked cock into me, steadily, not rushing.  He wanted to master me.  I
knew, his only accomplishment would be to defile his mother one more time.
I wanted to throw up again.

   I shut up, to focus on maintaining my innards.

   "Do you like it now, Mommy?" He cheered.  "Is my hot cock making you
cum? Are you turning in my mommy fuck slave?" His rhythm increased in
proportion to his imagination of my becoming his sex toy.  The vibrations
drilling inside of my groin rattled me.  I panicked.

   "YES!  honey, fuck your mommy!" It was a line from the book I'd read. 
"ORRR-" I paused, the assault in my vagina slowed.

   "Or what Mommy?"

   "Or you could, um, make me your slave faster by- NO." I pretended to
stop.  "I can't say it..."

   "Tell me Mommy.  How can I make you my slave?" Race's fucking
stabilized. His pounding cock fell heavily into me, to punish me?  It's
firm length hit my cervix.  The last time he did that he was about to
explode.  That.  Mustn't.  Happen.

   "Ow!  Oww!" I cried.  "Not that!" I threw my head back and wailed.  "You
were right!  You were right!  It's your cum, a son's dirty, nasty, hot cum
that turns mommies into fuck slaves.  If I don't eat it many times a day,
I'll keep fighting you!" I paraphrased from, "Two Rape Sons for Mommy."

   "Are you going to suck me then, and be my mommy fuck face?"

   "I will!  I will!" I cranked my head around to meet his eye.  "Mommy
will eat your cum, the cum from her son's balls."

   Two seconds later, I tasted my pussy and his spit, accepting my boy's
prick deep into my face.  I had experience now, breathing in time with his
fucking.  I used my lips and tongue to adjust his strokes to my inhales and
exhales.

   His fingers unbuttoned my night shirt, exposing my naked breasts. 
"You're so beautiful.  I love playing with your titties!" His hands groped
me and pinched my nipples.  I grunted when he pinched too hard.

   "I could cum, Mommy.  I like your sucking mouth.  I'm making you cum
too, right?  You're getting all hot from fucking and titty mashing and
cocksucking.  Fucking you was better, but if this makes you my slave
faster- EEhhh- AAAAAWWWGHHHH!!!!!" The thought of his mother, bending to
his every sexual desires tipped my boy's raping brain into orgasm.  His
entire body clenched, stopping his fuck tool where his thick head paused on
the back of my tongue.  I was ready.

   Gushing with fire and speed, cum spattered the walls of my throat.  I
swallowed quickly and deflected the second blast with the back of my
tongue. It's rich flavor had a rancid meat musk.  I grimaced and swallowed
again.  Six strong heaves send more of the sour flavor into my gullet.  His
cock and balls relaxed.  The rest oozed out of the tip.  I gulped and
gulped, sometimes nibbling and licking Race's engorged prick.

   "You didn't spill a drop, this time, Mommy!" My boy shouted with glee.
"Tell me you'll be my cum sucking slut from now on."

   "Son, do I have to?" I regretted fooling him, but it was for the most
important cause, to keep him from impregnating his mother.

   At first he pouted.  But my boy was sly.  When a grin broke across his
pursed lips, he exclaimed.  "Of course, if you did, you'd already be my
slave." He slapped my face, but not as hard as his father would.  "I have
to make you." My son grew fierce.  "Say it, Mommy.  Say you'll be my cum
sucking, mommy fuck face."

   I couldn't stand his glare.  "I can't fight you anymore tonight." I
relinquished.

   "Say it, Mommy." He slapped me again, but less hard.

   "Mommy will be your cum sucker." I tried.  The book had promised severe
punishment for not repeating a master's words, exactly.  I cringed,
remembering that.

   "Okay." He left me to turn on the shower.  His drooping cock glistening
from my lubrication and spit and the last drop of his cum, my son padded
out of my bedroom.

   ***







   I managed a full night's sleep after a long shower, until Race woke me
the next morning by pulling my jaw open.

   "Huh?  Race?  Hey!  NO!" I shrunk back.  His hands grabbed my head and
pulled my face back to his outthrust prick.

   "Remember what you promised." He cautioned.  "You even said you needed
my cum several times a day." His cock pressed my lips.

   All I could remember was how sick I had felt.  I wanted to fight him, to
prove he would never win, as God was my protector.  I was simply too
groggy. I let my son's hard prick slide into my mouth.

   Head limp, he used me like a doll, fucking my mouth quickly.  His hands
bobbed my head to his preferred pace.  "Suck me, Mommy." He urged.

   I debated it, decided it might get his rocks off sooner...  I closed my
lips around his pumping shaft and sucked.

   "Soo goood!  You'll be my slave, soon, Mommy." He smiled.  "I just know
it!"

   He lasted nearly a minute before I tasted his cum.  The hint of rancid
meat remained, but my stomach didn't rebel this time.

   When he left, he didn't run the shower, but I saw that he had laid out
clothes for me.  They were as slutty as my wardrobe offered, a tight pair
of jeans, a low cut blouse with frills at the cleavage, red,
semi-transparent panties.  He had failed to pick a bra.  No.  I discovered,
he had taken all of my bras, but only from my dresser.  I found yesterday's
pair in the hamper.  I showered quickly and donned the bra, my mind working
on what I would actually wear, probably my most frumpy things.  It was a
work day howev- "EEWWW!!" I clamored.

   Upon fitting a breast into the first cup, a cold, wet sticky mass
adhered to my nipple.  Then the smell hit me.  Don't tell me, Race had cum
once, before assaulting my mouth this morning!  Was that why he had lasted
longer than usual?  I dried off both cups, as best I could, with tissues. I
was determined not to wear what my son had decided for me.  I went
downstairs wearing a man's shirt and a sweater and an older pair of dress
slacks.  Fortunately, Race hadn't raided my supply of control top panties.

   I fixed breakfast and demanded to know where my bras were!  I didn't
think anything odd about multitasking this way.

   "You don't need them.  They just get in the way, and I like looking at
your nipples through your shirt." My son was pouting, no longer sex crazed
having cummed twice, he must have reverted the good boy I knew him to be.
Okay, not quite.  "I want to feel up your titties, when ever I like.  So
then I can get hard and fuck you even more."

   "Look at you." He continued, "You're sweating.  At least take off your
sweater when you're cooking."

   It was the sensible thing.  I felt I shouldn't reward his lustful side,
even for being sensible.  I embraced my sweat.

   After sending Race to school, I had only a few minutes to search before
hitting the road and work.  I found my bras stuffed under the couch.  It
was a heavy hide-a-bed, with a low edge to the carpet.  He must have pushed
them under one at a time.  I had to retrieve them in the same way.  Some
tore.

   Arriving late to work, I felt I had escaped.  Why should I ever return
to my house and my raping boy?  I took off my sweater.

   It was a good day.  I managed to put two places into escrow that day. 
The commissions would be small.  The market had weakened and every day more
agents fresh from online trainings knocked on the company's door.

   I celebrated by buying a nice set of sensible home attire.  I almost
rented a hotel room.

   "Mom!  What did you buy me?" Race halted practicing his Sousaphone and
ran from his room upon my late arrival.  He saw the packages in my arms.

   "The next time you set out clothes for your mom, you can set out these."
I wanted to encourage the good side of his actions this morning.

   After ripping into the boxes and sacks, he turned a mean eye to me. 
"You're suppose to buy sexy things!" He stamped his food and marched back
to his room.

   I was folding the items my son had strewn in his rush to find hot mom
clothes, when he reappeared.  He threw something at me!  I turned but too
slowly, it struck my shoulder and hit the floor.  "That's YOUR homework!"
He shouted and stomped back into his room.

   White letters,"Raped Mom, Raping Son", across a red banner stared up at
me from the carpet.  This time the cover showed a photograph of a young
woman with small breasts and a timid smile.

   After stacking the folded clothes, I placed the book on top and carried
the pile to my room.

   Race sat naked on my bed.  "You forgot something, Mommy."

   To avoid yet another argument and bruises, I sucked my son's cock until
he poured hot, sticky goo into my stomach.  For dinner I made a vegetarian
main dish with broiled fish as a side entree.  Race ate happily.  By
bedtime, the flavor of my son's spurting cum had much improved.  He thanked
me for being his mommy fuck face and went to bed.

   I read myself to sleep and dreamed of "Raped Mommy, Raping Son." It was
a story quite unlike mine and unlike what I had expected.  In this book,
the mommy had taken charge of her rapes.  She controlled her son more than
he controlled her.  He had to follow her strict schedule, but he could rape
her however he liked, as long as he told her in great detail all the ways
she was a mommy cunt slave.

   I awoke to my alarm.  I had set it very early.  I had to prepare myself.
I promised, today would not like the previous day.  I reached over to
stifle the singing alarm.  A worse alarm erupted in my head.  I couldn't
move my arm.  I looked around and saw that my wrists had been tied to the
corners of the bed.  Sharp, cords bit my skin.  They ran in opposite
directions over the edges of the mattress, tied to the frame's legs, no
doubt.

   "Yeow!" I yelped, forced to relax my arms.  The clock sang merrily.

   Race shuffled in, rubbing his face.  He was naked above, but his pajama
pants prevented me from seeing the state of his manhood.  "I thought I shut
that off after tying you, Mommy." He blinked and stepped closer, just
waking up.  "Sorry."

   My son climbed onto the bed and cuddled against me.

   If I hadn't been terrified at being bound I would have patted his head.
My legs were free, but trying to shift them caused the painful cords to cut
me.  "Let me go, Sweetie.  I have to talk with you this morning.  I read
the book.  I think I understand them, a little better.  Tying me up is just
going to make me angry again."

   "But you're ready, Mommy." He looked up, plain faced.

   "For what?" I worried.

   "To begin your training.  Now that you're my cum slut, Mommy.  I have to
start on raping you for real."

   I opened my mouth to object, vehemently, but nothing issued.

   He looked at my reddedned wrists.  Flakes of skin peeled from beneath
cords.

   "Do those hurt?"

   "YES!" I cried.  Still trying to collect my argument.

   "Good." He brightened.  Turning to his pajama pants he shucked them to
the floor.  His cock was just coming to life.

   "It's not good, Race.  You're really hurting me.  I could lose my
fingers, if they don't get enough blood!"

   "Then I'd better not waste time." He got to his knees and straddled my
torso.  Soft cock dangled in my face.  "Suck me hard, Mommy Fuck Face."

   My jaw opened at his utterance.  I started, "We have to talk, not rape.
Please, untie me!"

   He fitted the bulk of his soft mass into my mouth.  I tried to spit it
out, but he simply grabbed my head and forced it into me.  "Now suck. 
Hurry, or your fingers will fall off."

   I sucked and sucked.  I tongued his prick and made it hard in a few
seconds.  I tried my best to make him cum.  It had to have been his first
this morning.  Unable to pull him into my sucking maw, he withdrew a full
sized prick.

   "Thank you." Dragging the covers away from my body.  He quickly opened
my nightgown.  "Playing with your titties will keep me hard.  They're so
soft and sensitive!" He marveled at my naked breasts.  He stooped to suck
on one.  I did groan then.  He looked up and smiled.

   "Let me go!" I demanded.

   His hands continued to reveal my sleepwear.  Fingers crept under the leg
hem of my panties.  They tickled my dry vulva.  His mouth alternated
between my nipples, and they hardened to his sucks and tonguing and
nibbles. His fingers pressed softly against my sex.

   I threw a knee at him and hit his hip.  "Get off and untie me!" I
yelled. I was loosing it.  If I broke now, I would be locked away for
murdering my son.

   He giggled.

   That was it.  I could take no more.  If I had to tear wounds into my
arms to escape my son's raping mouth and fingers, that was blood I must to
shed.  I readied myself for the worst possible pain, when a line from last
night's book interrupted.  "You can rape me.  You can fuck me.  You can
even breed me, but I'll never let you fuck my ass!"

   My cunt twitched.  My nipples grew infinitesimally larger.  I huffed,
barely whispering, "You can hh-rape me.  Hhh.  Fuck me.  Even breed, hhh,
me.  Don't ever fuck my ass."

   "Mommy?" Race looked up again.  "What?"

   "You can rape me.  You can fuck me.  You can even breed me, but I'll
never let you fuck my ass!" I stared back.

   My son's eyes grew wide.  He giggled.  "You did read it!" As if by
programming, Race reached away from my cunt and fumbled with the cord
biting into my right wrist.

   "It's too tight." He complained.  "You shouldn't have struggled."

   I looked away.  "Yes."

   He rolled off the bed and onto his feet, no longer the groggy son.  He
returned with sewing shears and quickly cut me free.  "Now turn over,
Mommy."

   I was free of the ropes but not of my raping son.  I needed to do what
he told me, or I'd be tied worse the next morning.  I curled to one side
and got up.  My hands and knees sank into the soft mattress.  "Honey, I did
read the book, but you have to listen.  You can't fuck an ass without
lubrication.  I know the book says that the son's hard prick forces its way
into the mommy's ass, and it hurts her, but you have to believe me.  Raping
a dry ass will hurt you more!  Let me get something to help it."

   "I guess so." He had felt my dry cunt, more than once, and he knew he
had to lube it, despite books that said I would gush from being fingered.
He let me get off the bed, but only after removing my gown.  I stood half
naked and rummaged through my cosmetics.  I returned with cold cream.

   He reached for it, but I pulled it away.  "You can have it, Honey, but
first you have to listen."

   "You just want to pretend."

   "No.  Race.  I love you.  I hate what you're doing to me.  I've tried
very hard to make you understand that you're endangering your immortal
soul. But I failed." I emphasized with great regret in my voice.  "I can't
stop you from being the rape son you've decided to be.  But I will never be
the raped mommy, ever again."

   "It's too late, Mommy.  I know you can't stop me."

   I hugged my boy to me.  "Yes.  You can rape your mommy, but I can refuse
to be raped.  Do you understand, now?"

   He felt stiff against me, but the length of his prick pressed along my
thigh with less force.

   "That doesn't sound right at all." He pouted.  "Are you making fun of
me."

   "Does this jar of ass raping cream look like I'm making fun of you?" To
demonstrate, I opened the jar and dug a finger through it's soft mass. 
Bending over, I rubbed the cold goo against my butthole.  "You have to put
it on your penis, too." I offered it to him.

   Then he did get it, a little bit.  "You called it raping cream."

   "Yes honey, for your raping cock." I awaited his enlightenment.

   "Only, now, your ass can't be raped." His face was suspicious.

   "For my ass, I call it fun goo." It was the first name I thought of. 
Stupid, really.

   I felt my son's cock shrink.  He was appalled.  "No!  You don't have the
right!"

   For a second, he looked at the large sewing shears.  Scowling, He
knocked the jar of cream out of my hand and slid off the bed.

   "You're wrong!" He muttered.  His dick had fallen low.  Turning away, my
son trod out of my room.  "You'll see." I heard him vow.

   He was eating cereal when I came to breakfast.  We maintained silence
while I whipped up eggs and toast.  Finishing his bowl, he rinsed it and
put it on the washing rack.  Then he collected his school things and left
the house.

   I had the worst day at work.  Not one client called.  The accounts in
escrow bounced, and the office manager took me aside.  He told me that my
desk rent would be increased next month.  I stamped my foot and returned
home.  Race found me sobbing on the living room couch.

   "I won't be able to work.  We'll be out on the street.  I'll have to
sell the house.  There'll be no money for college." I poured out my heart
to my son.

   He grinned.  "It's no fun raping a willing mommy." Race leaped upon me
and tore off my clothes.

   I fought as hard as ever, but experience had honed his skill at raping
me.  I was naked and under his rampant prick faster than ever before.

   "Suck me, Mommy." He gripped my head and pushed his cock into my mouth.
I spat and spat, until I couldn't breathe.  I wanted him to suffocate me.
Nature rescued me, and I vomited.

   It was only a setback.  He dragged my stinking body to the tub and ran
hot water.  With the corded shower head he rinsed my face and fouled tits.
Then he washed his vomit soaked groin.  His commanding prick never waned.
Pulling me dripping out of the tub, he half carried me to my bed.  I retook
to fighting him, but my legs were pulled apart despite my frantic blows.

   "It's time for you to understand, Mommy.  I want a real rape mommy." His
knees and hands kept my legs apart, while I pounded on his thighs. 
Positioning his steel rod, his hands flashed to mine, capturing them.  When
he sank his weight upon my naked tits and stretched my arms, his cock
speared my cunt.  It drilled through my dry vulva and clenched opening.  He
grimaced from the pain and pumped hard prick into his mommy's fuck hole.  I
screamed and screamed.

   "Now are you going to be a good, rape mommy, or do I have to chain you
to our home?"

   "It won't be our home, Son." I was babbling, my cunt had begun to
secrete lubrication and his prick was spitting pre-cume.  The pain between
us eased.  "The tax man will come and take it away!"

   "You let me worry about that.  I'll pay the rent for your office.  I'll
find clients for you."

   "How?" That was ridiculous.

   He ignored me.  His body worked thick prick in and out of my moistened
cunt.  "Gonna fuck you good, this time."

   Adrenalin surged through me.  "You can't!" I yelled.  "Take it out!  If
you want me to suck you, I will!" I wailed.  "Don't you want to make Mommy
your mommy suck face cum slut?"

   My son's prick made the only noise in the room.  It's terrible slurps
and sloshes wrecked me.  "Stop!  I'll suck it good, Honey.  Let mommy suck
out all that nice fuck juice!"

   "Oooohhhhh!  I don't know why I ever stopped before.  It's soo good,
Mommy.  Your slutty cunt feels incredible!" He worked his prick in and out
of me, and kept calling me "Slut!" and "Mommy fuck cunt."

   "I'm going to cum so hard inside you, Mommy!" His pistoning shaft and
heaving loins battered my groin and raped my wet cunt.

   "Don't do it!  Don't cum in your Mommy Fuck Cunt!" I was lost to him. 
There was nothing I could say.  "It's a sin to breed your mommy." I cried.

   "You finally understand!" My son roared.  His hips shot forward, nailing
my ass to the bed with his rock hard shaft.  I convulsed from his impact.
Then liquid fire erupted inside my cunt.  His cum blasted into me.  He
resumed his fucking, to maximize penetration with each load fired into his
mommy's baby oven.

   After flooding my womb with his incestuous sperm.  He fell across me,
keeping his prick inside, to plug my hole.  "That was the best."

   I moaned.  "Nooooo."

   Another spurt leaked from his still hard cock.

   Five minutes later, he fucked me again.  Another dose of young sperm
invaded my holy grounds of conception.  After plugging me for 1 minute, he
made me suck his cock clean.  He left to fill the tub in the main bathroom.
I used my shower instead.

   When Race laid out clothes for me the next day, I ignored them.  This
time he shredded my bras, all of them.  I wore what I picked, but suffered
his hands under my shirts and blouses and sweaters and robes.  In the
ensuing days, after groping me, he would get hard and throw me to the
ground, or bend me over something, or push me up against the wall.  He and
his prick could rape me two or three times a day.  After a few day's he had
to rest, to recharge his sperm.  That slowed but didn't stop him.  He was
just as likely to orgasm in his mother's fuck slot with dry heaves as often
with floods of fertile cock cream.

   I never stopped fighting my son.  I told the doctor that I was studying
Karate, to explain the bruises.  I told Dr.  Kalter that I knew of women
who took Karate to defend themselves from their sons.  When I asked how
many mothers, not able to defend themselves, did he personally treat?  He
said, with great astonishment, "None." No doubt I had tread upon
doctor-patient confidentiality.  I pursued the matter elsewhere, but found
similar denial.  He told me, a year later, that I was pregnant.

   How Race managed to pay my rent and bring clients to my desk was a
mystery, until I caught him posting a picture to a website adorned with
pictures like those on his books.  They turned out to be collector's items.
Some of them were worth thousands of dollars, to the right buyer.  It
turned out my son was a genius at finding foolish buyers.  He'd saved a
dozen boxes of his father's books.  They paid for my desk and property
taxes.  His income was very close to my own.

   I didn't figure out his trick to bring clients to me, men and women,
until my pregnancy could no longer be hidden.  Apparently, there was a
special forum for highly paid computer nerds who liked MILFs.  Every day,
Race posted pictures of me, suffering his attacks, and swearing that I was
the best realtor in the area, but didn't know about the pictures.  By
hiding my face, enough were curious to meet me in person.  They were not my
best clients, but they were steady clients.  None of them attempted to rape
me.  A couple of them made rude passes at me, but my non MILF forum clients
were just as affronting.

   While I was pregnant, my clients halved.  One complained that he had
been gipped and threw a wadded printout on the floor upon seeing me.  The
forum address underscored a picture of me on Race's bed, fighting futilely
to keep his raping cock out of my bruised pussy.

   To be fair, during the third trimester, Race only raped my mouth and
ass. He occasionally tied me up to fuck, but he didn't cum as hard.  He
simply tired of my resistance.  Some days I would go limp and think of
Anne. My old tennis friend must be getting it twice as hard.  She was
amazing.

   A year later, she and I played a match and shared late lunch afterwards.
I vocally admired her tan, perfect skin.  "You must handle your boy's with
the fine grace of a suffering saint."

   "Lainey?  Did someone kick you in your head at your last Karate class?"
Her head tilted.  She had learned to ignore my bruises.

   I looked up from sweet little PattyAnnie in my arms, partially named
after my friend.  "Oh, I guess I can tell you.  I never thought I could
tell anyone."

   Sensing something wrong, Anne leaned closer, glancing once at my baby
nursing at her rape mommy's, purple mottled breast.  Catching my eye with
earnest concern, my friend asked.  "What's the matter?"

   I confessed.  "Race is a terrible Sousaphone player."


   end

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