Author: ShimmeringNight

Mommy, My Friends and Me (Part 3)

Part 2

Mommy, me and The Boys (Part 2) from rapefantasies

I grabbed down at her waist and opened her robe, pulling it violently from under her.

“Kyle. Please, I’m begging you, stop…please stop” my mom cried.

She was beneath me, completely naked beneath my rock hard cock, breasts, vagina, body.

I stared down at her womanhood, her pussy was wet and pleading for it, her thighs and her neatly trimmed bush soaked in her juices. She was saying stop but her body was asking for more. She couldn’t help herself.

“Don’t worry Mommy. You don’t have to think about anything. I’m Daddy, I’ll take of everything.”

I reached down and slipped two fingers inside of her, penetrating my mother’s vagina.

She gasped.

It was warm and slick inside and I began moving around, arching my fingers, exploring and conquering her. She was rocking on me, moaning slightly, shocked but darkly aroused.

Slowly, I began adding fingers.

Each time, she would start to protest – “No, Kyle…it’s too much, I’m full, I’m already completely full…”. Read more »

Mommy, Me and My Friends

My mom was always innocent woman; she would have ashamed by even the suggestion of cheating on my dad. But even so, there was always an edge of flirtatiousness to her, something dark, sexual and uncontrollable coursing through her, a depravity in her that she would never admit to, that she was afraid of more than anything else.
After all, there was a lot to lose. She was the popular mom, the princess in a bustling little American suburb, the woman with a great family, roles in the community, a board position on the PTA, respect and the envy of others. She had the American dream in the grasp of her silken manicured hands.
But I knew she had a freak side.
Even for the outgoing charismatic woman she was, even for the cool mom she was, she would be a little too talkative with me and my friends – She would linger around us when they came over, hanging over the conversation, inserting herself into them, sitting down with us on the couch, talking freely, accidentally touching up against one of us here and there, showing herself off her and there. She wouldn’t be upset at a dirty joke from us. She actually liked it more than any other kind of comment, she would smile coyly, rocking back her head with a knowing grin, a little giggle, a flush of excitement.
I knew she was flirting even if she would never admit it to herself. When the boys would come over, she would be invariably dressed in yoga pants and a loose white shirt, her breasts, bulging through inviting attention. Her hair would be thrown up into a provacative messy bun, a dyed blonde crown, hanging over and accentuating her gooey blue eyes. On their way out, she would give a hug to each of my friends, “So good to have you”, lingering a little too long, pressing a little too much into their prickling hard-ons.
I looked closely and I saw that my mother fucking loved the male attention, positively craved it. And there was a freak to her. I just didn’t know how deep it ran.
I wanted her. I was her son but I fucking wanted it.
And one weekend the opportunity arose.
My dad was out of town on business and it was a Saturday night. The day before, I had picked up the perfect date pill. Nothing too strong, nothing to knock a girl out completely, just something to relax and open her up, to bring up and out her deeper desires. Read more »