**DISCLAIMER:**
>*This story is entirely fictitious.*
>
>*All characters involved are strictly 19+.*
# “MARY BISHOP LENDS A HAND”
# PART ONE OF TWO
**TABLE OF CONTENTS:**
>*Summary*
>
>*Kink List*
>
>Chapter One *—* *”Tyler’s Birthday Surprise”*
>
>Chapter Two *—* *”The Mass-Exodus”*
>
>Chapter Three *—* *”Someone Celebrated”*
>
>Chapter Four *—* *”Lions And Their Prey”*
>
>Chapter Five *—* *”The Keeper”*
>
>Chapter Six *—* *”Bouncing On A Puppet’s String”*
>
>Chapter Seven *—* *”Like A Deadly Object”*
>
>Chapter Eight *—* *”Ruin You, Change You”*
>
>Chapter Nine *—* *”Understanding Their Inferiority”*
>
>Chapter Ten *—* *”On Proper Display”*
>
>*Afterword*
**SUMMARY:**
It’s pretty simple, really. You should expect a classic take on the stereotypical Bully/Mother story, with a few unexpected kinks thrown in there for some added variety. I didn’t attempt to reinvent the wheel with this one, I just wanted to write the best version of this fantasy that I could. Most of the obvious moments that you’d expect from a story like this are in there; though, hopefully, I’ve made them feel *fresh*.
As the word-count advertised in the title probably indicates, you should also expect this story to really *marinate* before reaching the most titillating moments. I intended for it to be a suspense-fuelled, slow-burn of a read, keeping you firmly perched on the edge of your seat. If literary foreplay sounds like your kinda thing, this story will be well suited to you.
Previously, I’ve noticed a sizeable demand for this type of content on Reddit, coming from a surprisingly wide range of demographics *—* not strictly confined to would-be *Bullies*, *Victims* and *Mothers*. I hope a story this long and filthy is able to provide you all with a potent distraction, in a time when escapism is a valuable commodity.
Please, enjoy. *And be safe!*
**KINK LIST:**
In order to give you control over your reading experience, I’ve included an extensive list below, detailing every kink featured in this story *— but, with a caveat.* Knowing some of the kinks involved beforehand will naturally spoil the way the narrative unfolds. I’ve hidden those kinks beneath *Spoiler Tags*. Proceed with caution.
Drunk/High Sex, Mother/Bully, Piss Play [Very Mild], Seduction, Cuckolded Husband, Forced Exposure, Impregnation, Humiliation, Degradation, Alpha/Beta Contrast, Suspense, Bully POV, Handjob, Big Tits, Big Cock, Cum Play, MILF, mF, Blowjob, Cheating F, Size Comparison [Indirect], Religious Shaming [Very Mild],
**CHAPTER ONE:** *’****TYLER BIRTHDAY SURPRISE’***
It was an unusually quiet Friday night, sometime during the last few months of my Senior year. I had no way of knowing that it would end up being a night that I’d never forget… *But, isn’t that how people always start stories like this?* Cliché or not, *it’s true*.
My friend and I were loitering around the public-park at the end of my street, smoking pot and trying to figure out where we wanted to go party. I had a bottle of vodka in my backpack, which I stole from my oblivious parents, and I was determined to see it empty by morning. We had a few options we were considering, of course; but none of them seemed tremendously promising *— a bunch of sausage-fests*, mostly.
Then, my buddy Shaun turned to me and whispered, in a conspiratorial tone of voice: “Hey man, did you know? It’s Tyler Bishop’s birthday today.” I looked back at him, furrowing my brow in confusion.
*Who cared?*, I thought. That dickless beta-male’s birthday was the furthest thing from my mind. I was worried about whether or not we’d be able to find a *good time* that night. Because it was starting to look like we’d just end up smoking more pot and playing *Call of Duty: Zombies*.
Shaun smiled, anticipating my reaction. “Saw it on Facebook. He’s, like, having *a party*. Bitch-boy was practically begging everyone at school to show up. I think he’s trying to, I guess, be popular now? — or just, *accepted?”* Shaun laughed, passing me the joint. I took it from him, listening intently now. “It was… super pathetic”, Shaun continued. “Like, it’s a little late at this point. Right? *—*Oh! …and Tyler’s mother fucking commented on the event, trying to get people to attend. She kept making such a big deal out of buying booze for everyone. So fucking desperate… It was *bad*.”
I smiled back, feeling like my *good time* was no longer in jeopardy. “…oh? And this party, you said it was *tonight*?”
Shaun nodded, his grin widening. I could tell from the glint in my friend’s eyes that he was thinking the same thing I was: *We were going to crash the party…* “Yeah”, Shaun responded, already fishing his car-keys from the front-pocket of his jeans. “I think the party’s starting, well, *right about now*, actually.”
We both stood up. I stomped the joint out, then said: “Lets go surprise the *Birthday Boy*…”
**CHAPTER TWO:** *’****THE MASS-EXODUS’***
When we arrived at Tyler’s house, we quickly realized that the “party” was already coming to an end. Everyone was leaving, looking only mildly disappointed about it. Apparently, the *birthday-boy* couldn’t hold his liquor, and after drinking only three measly beers, he had thrown-up and promptly passed out on the couch. One acquaintance I spoke to, as they were getting into their car, told me that “the whole embarrassing shindig had lasted just under an hour.”
When we went inside the house, we saw Tyler sleeping there on the couch, as promised. Everyone else was standing around, looking too sober, talking about where to go next. They sounded a lot like Shaun and I had, only twenty minutes ago.
Shaun ended up leaving with the mass-exodus of Tyler’s bummed-out friends. They’d all settled upon this college party, way across town. Sounded like a *good time*. It was still early *—* only ten o’clock *—* which meant there was still plenty of night left to party. *There was no time to waste*… Who would want to spend it standing around this bummer of an aborted party?
I stayed behind, though. I’d seen Tyler’s mother walking around the living-room, looking sad and forlorn, cleaning up the *few* empty cans of beer that had managed to be drunk in such a short period of time. So, I decided to *lend her a hand…* Maybe if I stayed and cleaned, I’d get a chance to meet Mrs. Bishop properly. And when I was done, I’d jump in a taxi and catch-up to the *good time*.
The last time she’d seen my face, we were sitting across from one another in the Principal’s Office, and I had barely entered puberty. I don’t think it’d be fair to blame Tyler’s mother for not recognizing me. Lord knows, I’d *grown* a lot over the years.
It only took us fifteen minutes to clean the living-room. In the garage, Mrs. Bishop had lovingly set-up a *Beer Pong* table. I packed it away, imagining how sad it must make her to see the effort wasted. Meanwhile, she cleaned the bathroom near-by, scrubbing her son’s puke from the toilet-seat and thoroughly Febrezing the air. When we were done, Tyler’s grateful mother asked me if I had a ride home, or if I needed somewhere to stay the night.
I told Mrs. Bishop that I had a ride, but unfortunately, they had been expecting to pick me up much later on; meaning, they wouldn’t be here for *a long while* — “for, like, a few hours”. In response, Tyler’s mother offered me a “night cap”, while the two of us waited for my ride. She seemed eager to get to know one of Tyler’s friends; likely, because he didn’t really have any.
I accepted, rather enthusiastically. The birthday party might have ended up being a forgettable let-down for everyone involved, but the night was starting to look more and more promising *for me*. I began to feel incredibly lucky that I had not left with Shaun to that college party, even though he had made it sound awfully tempting.
**CHAPTER THREE:** *’****SOMEONE CELEBRATED’***
Mrs. Bishop and I drank together for hours, sitting around the kitchen-table, sharing jokes about the school faculty, interesting anecdotes about field-trips, and… *flirtatious glances?* I wasn’t sure of it at first, but eventually, it became too obvious to deny. *She likes me,* I realized. *Tyler’s mother thinks I’m charming… Oh, this is too good…*
When Shaun texted me — around midnight, I think — and asked if I needed to be picked-up, I replied:
>*no thx drinking with tyler’s mommy lol*
Upon hearing that my ride had “bailed on me”, Tyler’s mother — who I now knew as *Mary* — agreed that we’d have another drink, before heading to bed. The Bishop’s had a guest-bedroom beside the garage. Mary told me that I could sleep there, if I wished to.
*I did.*
But, Mary and I didn’t *actually* stop drinking — as is so often the case, each Nightcap was merely an excuse for the next Nightcap, until neither of us possessed any sense of time. We didn’t finish drinking until one in the morning, or around that time. *But at least someone celebrated Tyler’s birthday, right?*
Mary shared a joint with me around eleven o’clock. The over-the-top, theatrical way she made the offer caused me to cringe inwardly. It reminded me of the Facebook comment Shaun had told me about reading. *’I’m not like the other moms’*, a shrill voice in my head reassured. *’I’m a cool mom!’*
But, the bud was surprisingly good. I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked that a neglected housewife like her might harbour a secret addiction to marijuana. We passed it back and forth, while leaning out of her narrow kitchen-window, shoulder-to-shoulder. The position provided an excellent view of the steep valley between Mrs. Bishop’s round, motherly breasts.
The higher I got, the less subtle my lingering glances became. Mary noticed my eyes darting toward her cleavage — *twice*. The first time, I think she either assumed that it’d simply made a mistake, or perhaps, she was just too shy to reveal that she’d noticed. After the second instance, however, Mary hadn’t been incapable of pretending not to notice. She acknowledged my glance with a tight, mischievous smile, before leaning forward to let out a plume of smoke. As Mary continued speaking, as if nothing had transpired, I appreciated the upgraded view she’d provided me. *Those are some remarkable fucking tits,* I thought. *Tyler was a lucky baby.*
At one point, the *Birthday Boy* himself woke up from the couch he had passed out on. Slowly and sluggishly, he had started making his way upstairs, toward his bedroom. Tyler walked *right past* the kitchen, where Mary and I were still drinking, bumping into the wall as he went, without even glancing sideways to notice me… I didn’t know whether to feel *relieved* or *disappointed*.
The increasingly candid conversation began to create a decidedly intimate atmosphere inside their modest kitchen. It would have been easy to imagine us dining somewhere fine, talking over dim candle-light and diffused classical music. I learned a lot about the Bishop’s during that conversation that I’d never known, or never cared to know. They went to church, every Sunday; her husband was a dentist, currently attending a conference, back sometime tomorrow; Tyler frequented these embarrassing card-game competitions, called *”Magic: The Gathering”*; they went to Arizona in the Summers, to visit Tyler’s grandmother; and, lastly, that Mary *highly* recommended being celibate until marriage. *That explains your son,* I thought. *And probably your marriage, too.*
**CHAPTER FOUR:** *’****LIONS AND THEIR PREY’***
Right after the *Birthday Boy* stumbled drunkenly to his bedroom, Mrs. Bishop hesitantly brought up the subject-matter of “Tyler’s bully”, wondering what impact this social failure would have on that… “unfortunate situation”. I could tell from the tone of her voice that this wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, but felt compelled to regardless, maybe because she was seeking some form of reassurance, or consolation.
I listened to her talk, patiently, my expression straining to stay neutral. If my lack of a poker face did betray who I *really* was, Mary must have been too drunk to notice to that thinly-veiled smirk I was concealing. When she was finished speaking *(it took Mary a while to get everything off of her chest)*, I looked Tyler’s mother in the eyes, and after a deliberately pregnant pause, I announced *who I was*. My voice remained calm, almost matter of fact. I spoke as if this was something I thought she’d already known.
Mary looked shocked, *violated* — but mostly, her expression looked equal parts confused and conflicted. “…still?”, she whispered.
“Still what”, I asked.
“Do you still bully… *him*?”
*She’s already too ashamed to say her son’s name out loud,* I realized. *Good.*
“Of course”, I responded, using the same unnervingly measured speech. “Tyler’s still a spineless little bitch. And I’m still *me*. Nothing has changed.” I finished my drink in a single, neat gulp, before continuing: “There’s a reason they separate lions and their prey at the zoo. Our public-school system could learn a thing or two.”
Mary looked like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to process the obvious danger directly in front of her eyes. “Think about it”, I said. “Why else do you think I showed up here? I was looking for a party to crash.”
Mary stood up quickly, forgetting how much she’d drank. After regaining her balance, Mary announced that it was “about time she went to bed”, and that her and I “shouldn’t have ever drunk so much.” Her speech was slurred, accented by her panic.
Mary stumbled toward the guest-room, leading the way with uneven, zig-zag steps. Now, she was refusing to make eye contact. It was as if she was leading a ghost she couldn’t see or hear, but knew was there. Once we’d reached the guest-room, Mary stopped in front of the door, and made me promise that “I’d catch a taxi home before anyone else in the house woke up.” I agreed; *seemed fair enough to me*, actually. Mrs. Bishop really was a good woman.
After, Mary said a curt “good night” — still sounding *conflicted,* somehow — then went upstairs to her own bedroom, without saying another word.
**CHAPTER FIVE:** *’****THE KEEPER’***
I sat on the edge of the Bishop’s guest-bed and texted Shaun for a while. I told him about my night, but he didn’t believe me about *any of it*; that is, not until I’d sent him a few pics to prove it, including a particularly drunken selfie Mary and I had taken.
After sharing the selfie, I realized how revealing the position of Mrs. Bishop’s blouse was in that shot. *That’s a keeper*, I thought.
>SHAUN: *those tits.. you lucky bastard*
>
>ME: *mrs bishop wanted the d lol*
>
>ME: *i almost regret telling her who i was*
>
>ME: *she would have got it*
>
>SHAUN: *lool dude*
>
>ME: *but it was SO satisfying*
>
>ME: *bitch nearly had a panic attack*
>
>SHAUN: *i bet…..*
>
>SHAUN: *why she let you stay tho?*
>
>ME: *lol*
>
>ME: *we drank a lot and I smoked some of her weed*
>
>ME: *she thinks shes responsible for me now*
>
>ME: *like a liability*
>
>ME: *some kid she got high*
>
>SHAUN: *you got her high!?*
>
>ME: *her stash*
>
>SHAUN: *no fucking way*
>
>SHAUN: *fucking wild*
>
>SHAUN: *what are you gonna do now?*
>
>SHAUN: *just leave?*
>
>ME: *idk*
>
>SHAUN: *man id cum in his conditioner before i left lol*
>
>ME: *gross lol*
>
>SHAUN: *do you have any more pics of her?*
>
>SHAUN: *honestly never noticed how fine those tits were*
**CHAPTER SIX:** *’****ON A PUPPET-STRING’***
I decided it was time to go. Before leaving, I stopped to take a quick piss in the near-by bathroom. Considering how long I’d been sat drinking, while mind-fucking Tyler’s naive mother, the bathroom-stop was desperately needed. I wasn’t going to hold my bladder for an entire taxi ride home, that was for sure.
As I opened the bathroom door, I felt the world around me swoon momentarily. *Fuck, I’m really wasted..*. I flicked the door closed behind me, without bothering to listen for the *click* of it closing shut. …*How much did we actually drink? God-damn.*
I approached the toilet, then pulled eight inches of cock out of my jeans, letting them hang down toward my knees. I tried to focus on the task before me, still feeling the world tilt dangerously. So, y’know, it took me a long while to actually *get goin’*, so to speak. *You understand*. I was standing there for some time, just letting my cock and balls dangle, with my eyes only half open.
I could still smell the sickly sweet, mango-flavoured Febreze in the air. *I’d honestly have preferred Tyler’s puke*, I think. It was a scent only a mother could approve of.
And that’s when I happened to glance over my shoulder and spot Mrs. Bishop, watching me through the narrow opening in the bathroom door. She’d changed into a nightgown while she was upstairs; and she’d taken off her bra, too, which was immediately evident. It appeared that she’d also washed the make-up from her face; I wondered for a moment if she’d been crying. Now that Mrs. Bishop’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, it was hard to tell.
The sight of my monstrous cock shocked the poor woman *so much*, she momentarily forgot to keep the front of her gown closed tight. I could see the deep valley between her large, pendulous breasts; and, just *barely*, the hint of a little nipple…
Shaun was right. Tyler’s mother had some of the nicest tits that I’d ever seen on a woman her age — Hell, maybe some of the nicest tits that *I’d ever seen*, period! The sight of them peeking through the nightgown was enough to make my cock visibly throb. That, in turn, caused it to pulse with blood, bouncing in the air energetically, as if attached to a puppet-string held by maniac.
I reached toward the door and opened it, so Tyler’s bewildered mother could *be sure* of what she was seeing. Mary didn’t turn around and leave, like I had half expected her to. But, she also didn’t say a word to me, either. She simple stood there, slack-jawed, staring at my cock, while the gap in the front of her nightgown continued to grow larger every second…
**CHAPTER SEVEN:** ***’LIKE A DEADLY OBJECT’***
Mary continued to say nothing. *She just stared…*
To break the silence, I joked about being “too drunk to even piss straight”, then I told Mary that if “she didn’t want to clean my piss stains from the bathroom-tiles in the morning”, she should “lend me a hand and aim my cock for me.”
Mrs. Bishop still couldn’t seem to bring herself to utter a word of protest. To her credit, she did manage to look away from my swelling manhood, if only for a moment. When Mary’s eyes inevitably returned — *as if drawn by some powerful magnetism* — it looked like she’d spotted the bead of pre-cum, ready to drip from the tip of my cock. Her eyes widened, like a cartoon of someone being hypnotized. I watched her bare feet, as they slowly shuffled into the bathroom, as if operating sub-consciously, independent from the rest of her body.
*It’s really true,* I thought. *Tyler’s mother wants the D…*
Once Mary was inside the threshold, I closed the bathroom door behind her. Instead of waiting for her to speak, I took Mary’s hand and silently guided it toward my cock. The concentrated way she held it, you’d have thought my manhood was some-sort of potentially deadly object — like a poisonous snake, or a loaded gun.
After I’d placed her open palm down on my shaft, Mary didn’t seem capable of removing her hand. I felt her fingers curl around me, struggling to grip my entire girth.
“Hold on to it, just like that”, I instructed her. “*It won’t bite*. All you have to do is just aim it, straight down…”
Mary tilted her face up toward mine, only briefly. We made eye contact for the first time since the two of us had abruptly left her kitchen-table — where our empties were no doubt still sitting, evidence of the hours we’d spent intoxicated by one another’s company. The uncertain excitement I’d seen in her eyes while we had been drinking and flirting was now replaced by an undeniable look of yearning. Mary lowered her face as quickly as she’d lifted it up to me, then gripped onto my cock a little tighter.
“Okay”, she whispered, nearly voiceless. Mrs. Bishop lifted the toilet-seat and pointed my cock down toward the toilet-bowl, then asked: “…Like this?” I didn’t respond, I simply began to relieve myself. When my shaft suddenly flushed in her hand, Mary let out a delightful little shriek of shock.
*She’s going to be fun to fuck,* I thought. *A natural squealer… Might wake the whole household.*
While I pissed, I watched Mary’s facial expression. It didn’t change. She looked straight at my cock, unblinking. Even when I started using both of my free hands to pull her night-gown away from her shoulders, Mary just continued to stare down, focused. It was as if she didn’t know what my cock might do if she’d dared to look away from it, even if only for a single moment.
Tyler’s mother was not wearing any panties; that was clear to me, even before her nightgown had fell to the tile-floor. In the confined space of the small bathroom, it was easy to *smell*: her eager cunt, dripping in anticipation. I assume Mary had taken her panties off because they had gotten uncomfortably wet while we were leaning out of her kitchen-window — *just a theory.* Without the fabric barrier they would have provided her, Mary had been unable to conceal the scent of her surrender; now, it permitted the entire bathroom, replacing that Saccharine-sweet smell of artificial mangos.
After I’d finished pissing, Mary simply stood there, zombified, with my cock gripped in her hand. She was now fully naked, with her gown coiled around her feet, every inch of her body exposed to me. That fact hadn’t even seemed to register to Mary yet. Her expression reminded me of Tyler’s, when I’d seen him stumble upstair, half-conscience.
**CHAPTER EIGHT:** *’****RUIN YOU, CHANGE YOU’***
Her fingers instinctively gripped onto my shaft a little tighter, responding to the way my cock swelled suddenly in her grasp, surging full of blood. It seemed to amaze her, the fact that I still had plenty of room left to grow. Gradually, Mrs. Bishop began to work my big cock, using long, deliberate strokes, finally ready to see how much bigger it could get…
After a quiet moment, I asked Mrs. Bishop if “my cock was bigger than Tyler’s father’s”. *(I knew the answer, of course; I just wanted to fuck with her.)* Mary nodded immediately, being more forthcoming than I’d expected.While still staring down at my growing manhood in silent awe, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words were there. Mary swallowed, then resumed nodding sombrely.
I turned a quarter-circle toward Mary, reached down and cupped my hands beneath her colossal breasts; then, I lifted them into the air, feeling their weight slightly strain the tendons in my wrists. I sucked on her nipples, using suction to draw them in and out of my mouth — *just the same way baby Tyler used to,* I thought to myself, grinning triumphantly. While I savoured her tits, Mary continued to stroke my cock at a steady, uninterrupted pace. I could feel the head of my dick occasionally press into her soft belly, smearing pre-cum across her skin.
I let Mary’s fat tits tumble back into place. They glistened with saliva. “I’m going to ruin you”, I whispered, letting her know I meant it. “I’m going to change how you see yourself forever, like I did to your son. I’m going to break you. Until my cock — the very temptation that has destroyed your life — is all you have left to hold onto.”
“I know”, she whispered back. Mary’s response had come much quicker than I’d expected. But, I couldn’t tell which part of her was answering me; *Mrs. Bishop*, the middle-aged woman, filled with shame and self-loathing; or *Mary*, the bitch in heat, who’s needy cunt had become my new favourite scent of air-freshener. *I don’t even think she knows what she’s doing right now,* I thought. *Or if she even wants this. Or if she’ll ever be able to live without it.*
I looked down, through the narrow window between Mary’s glorious tits. I saw her hand, now stroking my cock *dangerously close* to her cunt, spreading my pre-cum all through her thick pubic-hair. I could spot one thin rivulet of wetness leaking from her pink lips, running the length of her bare leg, toward the tiled floor below…
**CHAPTER NINE:** *’****UNDERSTANDING THEIR INFERIORITY’***
I told Mrs. Bishop that if she wanted to see “how big it could *really* get”, then she’d have to “use her mouth” to find out. Mary glanced up at me for the second time, making eye-contact. She attempted to speak: “I— *I—*”, but mostly, her lips just quivered. *Say it,* I thought. *Tell me why you can’t suck my cock. Tell me all about the son who’s going to be heart-broken, about the husband who won’t even be able to look into your eyes. It’s music to my fucking ears…*
I closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, spreading my legs wide apart, leaving Mrs. Bishop plenty of room to knell in front of my cock. She stood there for a moment, looking down at me, confused, as if not knowing what to do. “On your knees”, I instructed, nodding toward the floor. After a long hesitation, Mary obeyed. It amused me to see the way her jugs rested on her knees when she leaned forward to taste my cock.
I don’t even remember how long I let Tyler’s mother suck me off for. It was a long time, though. She started real gingerly, like she’d never done it before. I’ve honestly never seen a woman so clueless about the act of giving blowjobs. It started to get me thinking…
“I’ve never met Tyler’s father before”, I said, wanting to make idle conversation. “Is he a weak man?”
Mary removed my cock from her mouth, looking bewildered. “Pardon?”
“Is your husband a weak man? You can be honest.”
“I don’t know”, Mary answered, averting her eyes. She quickly wrapped her lips back around my cock, hoping she would be safe from needing to answer more.
“C’mon”, I whispered, reaching down and lifting Mary’s chin with one finger, until my cock slid out of her mouth, and she was forced to look into my eyes. “Is that the problem, Mary? Is that why you’ve raised such a spineless son? Because he inherited his weakness from his father?”
Mary looked into my eyes, unblinking. “They’re… a lot alike. *Yeah.*”
“You should have known better, frankly.” As I continued to speak, I grabbed a handful of Mary’s hair and lowered her mouth around my cock, where it belonged. “It shouldn’t surprise you now, when you see your son coming home, tears in his eyes, with a bloody nose. *You asked for this*. You asked for this every time you let your husband’s tiny dick cum inside your wasted baby-maker. You were working with bad ingredients, that’s the problem. *Small dicks* produce *small men…”* I lifted Mary’s head upward, still holding her hair in my fist like a ponytail. I savoured the feeling of her lips releasing my cock, as I added: *”It’s that simple*.”
Mary gazed up at me, voluntarily this time. Her eyes were watery and still. Her lips slowly parted, mouthing a silent gasp. I could see a strand of cum spanning those wet lips, glistening under the bathroom’s artificial lights. *”—Why would you say that?”*
“Because I’m right”, I continued. “And you know that, now. You’ve probably known that for a long while.” I pushed Mary’s head down further this time, letting the head of my cock glide along her throat. She gagged violently, drooling directly onto my balls. “But, you hadn’t witnessed the proof for yourself — *not until tonight*. Your entire life, you’ve been trying to shelter yourself from it, haven’t you? Going to church every Sunday, pretending cocks like mine didn’t exist.” I gagged Tyler’s mother again, simply reminding her of the control I now possessed over her. “All this time, pretending your husband was a *real man*. It’s a pathetic existence you’ve lived, denying yourself any *true* satisfaction.”
Tyler’s mother couldn’t bear to listen to another word. She stood quickly, letting my cock rebound against my chest with a wet *smack*. I looked up, past her age-sloped breasts, and studied her furious expression. After rising to my feet, I looked down into Mary’s wide eyes, the way a stern parent might. “There are two ways this could end”, I explained. “You can leave now, with the taste of my cock still on your tongue, and I’ll taxi home, knowing that I’ve finally corrupted Tyler’s life *irrevocably*.”
Mary blinked, thinking hard. *”…or?”*
“Or… you can get back on your knees. Grovel, with those fat tits pressed against the tiles. Bend over, present your ass to me for the taking. Pull your cheeks apart and show me those tight, *neglected* holes. And then, I’m going to decide what I want to do with you.” Mary blinked again, looking slightly vacant, as if she were brain-dead. I could see her brain struggling to keep up with everything that I was saying. “One way or another, I’m going to *use you*… like a disposable plaything I know I’m going to throwaway after. If you present those holes to me — then, *they’re mine*. And I will use them until I get bored — or the sun rises, whichever comes first…”
**CHAPTER TEN:** ***’ON PROPER DISPLAY’***
“Stick your ass up higher for me”, I barked. “Face down.” Mary obeyed. “There, *like that*.”
With her fuck holes on display, I was able to examine them for the first time. All it took was two fingers inside her dripping cunt to realize child-birth had been kind to her, in the elasticity department. *Would my cock be kind, though?* That was doubtful. If I had my way — *which it looked like I would* — her husband was going to feel an unexpected and disappointing looseness the next time he fucked his wife.
“Good”, I muttered, speaking entirely to myself. When I removed my fingers, her cunt let out a tight, slippery sound. *Very good,* I thought. Her hubby must have a pathetically small dick, because I’ve met virgins will cunts that felt more broken-in.
“What are you going to do?”, Mary pleaded, in a low, husky whisper.
“I’m still deciding”, I answered, while rubbing my finger-tips together, feeling her wetness turn tacky…
**AFTERWORD:**
If you’ve stuck around to the end, then I hope you’ve enjoyed the first half of my filthy little tale. I tried to put a little more effort into this one than I usually do. Hopefully, it showed.
*Part Two* will be posted eventually. I’ve got a few twists left in my pocket that I’m looking forward to writing down. If you enjoyed reading *Part One*, please let me know. I’m greedy for feedback, even when it’s not positive, or even constructive. All DM’s are welcome. It might even force me to finish *Part Two* a little quicker.
And speaking of, if you’re a mature woman who enjoyed *Part One*, I’m currently looking for a new *muse*: someone I can roleplay scene ideas with, testing out their potential. Or, someone who I can discuss this particular genre of kink with.
Until *Part Two*, stay safe and be well.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/fqzo72/mary_bishop_lends_a_hand_part_one_mf_bullymilf