She came back from her date. More often than not, she came back disappointed. “All men are the same. What’s a woman to do?”. Almost invariably, though, she came back drunk. There probably was a connection of some sort between her loud obnoxious brand of drunk and most men refusing to fuck her behind a dark alley on the first date, but that seemed to be lost on her.
So she ended up coming home, horny, unfulfilled, frustrated, humiliated, and take it all out on me.
It had started almost innocent. She mumbled for a bit about how all men sucked and she was still young and beautiful and desirable. Then she went to the bathroom, puked, headed to bed, and passed out. That was it for a while.
But it escalated. The complaints became more and more explicit, graphic, vivid. “How could that idiot not want a slice of this?” she would say as she took off her dress, letting her hands wander over her breasts, her hips, her thighs.
She started taking off more and more clothing in front of me. Eventually, she was as naked as the day she was born. “Look at these” she’d tell me, her hands cupping her tits, “what fucking idiot turns these down?”
But that night, that night, I don’t know what it was. Maybe the rejections had just piled up too high for her to cope. Maybe the drinks were just too strong. Suffice it to say that everything about her had an aura of extreme unstoppable determination. She would not take no for an answer that night.
She walked through the door, slammed it, and screamed as loud as she could that she was done with men. “All men are idiots and pigs. I am done with them” she told me. She walked to the bathroom, stood by the toilet for a minute, as if unsure whether the time to vomit her guts out had come, then changed her mind, stormed off, and motioned for me to follow her into the bedroom.
I tried to resist, but admittedly my attempts were weak and her will strong. I followed her.
“Unbutton my dress” she started. I obeyed. I turned around as she took it off. It’s not like I hadn’t seen it all already, but I guess a modicum of modesty survived in me. Modesty that she had long since forgone.
“Why are you turned away? Do I disgust you? Is that it?”
“No, no of course you don’t”, I interjected.
I was far from an expert in female bodies, but, I must admit, despite her terrible lifestyle, she somehow maintained what my hormones judged a decently appealing body. And I wasn’t about to increase her anger and humiliation by calling her disgusting anyway. So I turned around. I faced her as she took her bra and panties off.
I faced as she revealed her breasts, big, and just a bit saggy. I faced as she revealed her large pink areaolas.
I faced as she revealed her dark blonde unkempt bush.
I faced as she revealed wide birthing hips, the belly of a woman in her 40s who through occasional exercise and exceptional genetics maintained a decent look.
“Do you like this?” she asked, trying to smile seductively, trying to push her stomach inside, her tits outside. She turned around, made me gaze at her ass. It was certainly her best asset. Big, round, firm, it stood like a last surviving monument of a once mighty civilization, ready to be taken into a museum for hordes of distracted schoolkids to ignore. Such was her ass: a monument that most men were happy to ignore on their way out of a failed date.
But I didn’t have the same luxury. I was made to look. She took my hand in hers, and forced my fingers on her ass. She made me cup it. “Do you feel it? It’s a good ass. Why the fuck would any man not want to fuck this ass?” she grunted.
I was embarrassed, ashamed. I hoped at any point she’d finally run to the bathroom, get her dinner out of her system the quick way, and finally fall asleep and leave me alone. And yet, despite all those feelings, my body, my hormones, it ran on some kind of perverted autopilot. I was hard. Yes, I admit it. Touching her, naked, bared for me, touching her ass, feeling it in my own hand, it made me hard.
She saw it through the fabric of my shorts. It was impossible to hide. She saw it. She rejoiced. As if finally she was having the long denied victory of feeling seductive, of feeling woman in the most primal sense of the term. “Ah, so you like this. At least one man is still a man. At least one man still knows what’s good for him” she chanted happily.
It’s what happened next that surprised me the most. Anything after that seemed like the obvious natural progression. But that moment, that was the defining moment.
She pulled my shorts down, took my hard cock in her hand and started stroking it. She looked satisfied. Pleased. She felt like she finally had a purpose.
My body twitched. A mix of surprise, revulsion, and – I must admit it – the unexpected pleasure of having my dick stroked. It’s not like I had never done it myself, but having someone else do it, it felt entirely different. It felt better in a way that words cannot even begin to describe. I admit it. That part won. I stayed put. I didn’t run away. I didn’t push her away. I didn’t protest. I stayed where I was and let her stroke it contentedly.
This was clearly not her first rodeo. She knew what she was doing. She knew how tight to squeeze, she knew how fast to stroke. I enjoyed it. I was also disgusted by it. Horrified. But I enjoyed it. My body shook. I shivered. My hips pushed and thrust, dancing to a tune that I knew by nature before nurture, the ancient song of mating.
I wasn’t thinking rationally, but somehow I think I still had a sense of boundary. Or at least enough of it that I thought she’d make me cum in her hand, feel satisfied and let go. Actually fucking me? I wasn’t even considering the option. It seemed too crazy. Too outlandish. As my eyes closed shut and my body shivered with pleasure, I prepared to savor the quick release of orgasm. It felt disgusting, which to my surprise made it even more pleasurable. And then she stopped. And then I felt something moist and warm around my shaft. I opened my eyes. I saw it. She was sucking my cock. I had seen it happen in those movies, but I didn’t think it would be a real thing that real people did, much less that it would happen to me, and that it would feel so good. And good it felt. She sucked. And sucked. And sucked. Not a word was exchanged. It was our understanding, a silent deal of silence. I wouldn’t know what to say, and neither did she. Also, it’s hard to speak with a hard cock in your mouth.
She stopped. She seemed to know exactly when to stop. I was close. I was inches away from erupting in the most mind-blowing orgasm I had ever experienced. How did she know? I don’t know. But she did. Experience, I assume. She stopped. She let herself fall on the bed, She pushed me on top of her. She put my cock inside of her.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. She flipped around. Put herself on top of me. Like an experienced athlete, she pulled off her routine on the first try. I was pinned to the bed. Powerless. My hard cock deep inside of her. She started riding. The feeling was too strong for me to do anything. Even if I had wanted to shove her off me, to run away, I wasn’t strong enough to do so. And I didn’t. In that moment, the pleasure was so strong that I couldn’t think straight. It just felt wonderful. I was no longer a virgin. In horrifying circumstances. But my body didn’t care. All my body knew and wanted was to obey its biological imperative: to fuck and to breed.
Her tits bounced up and down with each thrust of her hips. Her moans were loud, intense. She looked so focused, so concentrated. Did she expect me to last forever? She couldn’t have. She must have known that every thrust could be the one that pushed me over the edge. To me, it felt like forever. To her, it was probably 30 seconds, maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less.
And then as she dug me deep in her, with one last rightly timed friction, I came. I came inside of her. Decency, modesty, morality, they had lost. Everything was sullied as thick blob after thick blob of sperm left my loins to fill her up.
She smiled. It was enough for me. Had she cum? Probably not. But that’s not what she wanted. The carnal pleasure, she could give to herself. She wanted the validation of a man wanting her enough to cum for her, in her. And she had gotten it. That night, she fucked me, she took my purity, she made me cum inside of her.
On that note, young Mark Handerson ended his deposition in family court, where his father sought to regain full custody.
After that deposition, the man’s lawyer barely stood up, recited a few obvious words, and sat down. He knew he had just won the case. Surely no judge would let a teenage boy live with the mother that had fucked her own son in a drunken stupor. Jessica didn’t even try a defense. She begged for the court’s mercy, said she’d submit to whatever therapy and rehabilitation the court saw fit.
But there was no saving her case. The judge ruled in a matter of minutes: Mark would live with his father until age 18, Jessica would get supervised visitation once a month.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ckxupp/mf_caution_she_put_my_cock_inside_of_her