The sex lives of other people
Motto: I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby... like you...
At school, everyone loves my mom. I'm a senior now, which means I've had to put up with it since forever. See, she's one of the high school counselors we have. She went back to school when I was ten, got a job the next year, and has been making a name for herself ever since. Every year I've watched incoming freshmen hi-fiving each other when they see that my mom will be their counselor: "You got Ms. Walker too? Duuude! Niiiice!". Buncha fucking bros.
It's nauseating, but I can't blame them. She's stunning, nothing short of stunning. I can admit to as much. She's usually in a skirt, her toned, bronzed legs going on endlessly. Her blouses always border between professional and... well, skanky. There, I said it. She's so good at it I can't even bring myself to criticize her for it. She knows exactly how to get everyone's attention yet pretend she's just dressing like any other woman (sure, if every other woman had enormous breasts spilling out of their tops, and a bouncy ass that wobbled with every step). I love her though. It doesn't work out very well for me.
Like that time with Tyrone. Tyrone is the star of the lacrosse team. Tyrone is six-four and pure, thick, granite mass. Every girl wants Tyrone, and, with his endless thirst for new action, he's dipped once or twice into most of them. That's right, Tyrone has it pretty sweet. He even has a full-ride scholarship lined up at our state school at the end of the year — that is, if he can pass his classes. Which is where my mom comes in.
"It's stupid if you ask me," I overheard him saying during lunch. He was shaking his head like the sandwich sitting before him was making him sick.
"She'll help you," Amber said. "I think it's worth it."
Amber's this total skank pin-up blonde sophomore. I could tell he had done her in the morning. She has a car, the bitch. She's probably giving him head in there before school every day. Every day he's not stuffing his thing down some other throat, at least. I wonder if it even fits.
"Nobody can help me."
"Look, she's a guidance counselor for a reason. She knows the easy classes, and the ones that you can pass. I bet she'll line you up with a tutor, too."
"If you say so man," he said. "Whatever gets me out of this shit-hole and onto a college campus I'm game."
"You shouldn't shoot low," she said. "You could get into some great schools if you put in the effort."
True love. That skank.
"We're not all meant for the Ivy League," he sighed. "We're not all A+, Amber."
And he said it like he was sorry or something. I'm A+, what's that ever do for me ?
The bell rang and I watched him off. I have a free period after lunch, and for an extra credit I deliver notes for the main office. There's usually a number of trips I have to make to the counselor's office during that time. Sure enough, after a few minutes of twiddling my thumbs, Ms. Anderson handed me a few notes, one for my mom, and one for another one of the counselors.
I headed over to their offices, up a flight of stairs and to the left, and put the notes in their proper boxes. It's one big room, and each counselor has their own individual office within it. I could see Tyrone in my mom's office, and although nothing was too off, it was odd how much he was, well... smiling. The only time I've ever seen him smile in school... Suffice to say it was weird to see him grinning ear to ear, the same smile that gets all the girls wound up. He even took off his hat and rubbed his hand through his hair, laughing all along. I thought it wouldn't be too wrong to get a closer look. The office was pretty empty, what with everyone in class. The other counselor's room was at the other end of the office, so I inched up closer to the door. I had no worries that they'd see me, as they were so focused on one another. Their voices were clear.
"How long have I known you, Tyrone?" my mom was asking.
"What, ten years?"
"That sounds right. And you're no different than you were then. Strong-willed, take what you want... it's just that your priorities are a little off. Not everything you want is on the lacrosse field, maybe."
"Maybe not everything," he said. It was the way he said it, though. His voice trailed off, and I could almost sense my mom being... enraptured by his words. She was, as usual, wearing a high skirt, and she had one of those thick belts around her waist that pushed her breasts up and together. Her thin waist opened up to her big ass, which perfectly filled in her chair.
"You okay, Ms. Walker?" Tyrone asked.
"Yeah, yeah, fine. I'm just —" she shook her head, as if snapping out of a trance, and then began to look at her computer screen. "Just trying to think of what classes would be right for you."
She was right about one thing — Tyrone was strong willed, and willing to take what he wanted, but I was beginning to fear just what that was. Just then, as she was looking away, I noticed what had stolen her attention moments before — without even saying a word, or making note of it, Tyrone had begun fiddling with his jeans. They were tight already, and now I could see the outline of his dick, snaking down the side of his pants. It looked like he was simply adjusting his pants, perhaps rubbing an itchy spot on his groin, but it was clear that the act had drawn my mom's attention. And also, the attention of his enormous package.
I was surprised by how huge it was — but more surprised by what was taking place before me. Tyrone had practically grown up in my house, and he knew how close my mom and I were, with my father having abandoned us so many years ago. I couldn't believe he was doing what he was doing, and some part of me hoped it was all some sort of joke.
"Mr. Robinson is the best algebra two teacher we have, and that's the only math requirement you need for college," my mother was saying. "How about his 9 AM class?" Her tone was business-like and controlled, and I felt a surge of relief that she was trying to call an end to all of this.
"9 AM?" Tyrone asked, as he rose up. "I don't know, Ms. Walker... I'll be honest, I'm usually still in the gym by then. Why don't you let me see the schedule so I can see what would work for me."
He walked over to my mom and leaned over her chair, and as he did so his hand gently rubbed against her breast, causing a reverberation of her whole chest as he quickly maneuvered to grab the mouse from her hand.
"Perhaps it's best if you let me—"
"No, it's fine," Tyrone said. "Honestly I haven't felt this much interest in my schooling in a long time."
This definitely wasn't the Tyrone I was used to. No, this was the Tyrone playing a role: the Tyrone who watched three weeks of Amber's cheerleading performances just to get her into bed, the Tyrone who was willing to act in whatever way that might get him some action.
His body hulked over my mother's, and her hand, currently on the arm of her chair, was right at his crotch, where his bulbous penis continued to reveal itself. He stared at the screen, yet I could see that her eyes were only on his dick. I couldn't believe it: my own mother, obsessed with that dick's package.
He continued to stare at the screen for a moment, silently. I could see the lust in her eyes. She fucking licked her lips even!
From my perch outside the door, I almost couldn't hear what Tyrone said, but just barely, it got through to me. "Go ahead," it sounded like.
"Excuse me?" my mom said, shrill, sudden, trying to look at him although with his size and his leaning over her chair she was really just looking at his chest.
"I said, go ahead." He nodded down at his crotch, and my mom put her hand to her neck, as if in shock, yet she didn't move.
"Tyrone, I don't know what you're talking about. . . "
"I think you do." Just like that Tyrone's attitude shifted. His voice was gruff now, and his crouching over her took on an almost animalistic intensity. "You've been looking at me for years, Ms. Walker. You don't think I see you looking out of your room whenever I get up to take a piss at night when I sleep over?"
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave—"
"Or how about when I came back drunk and Andy went to sleep and I went to tug one out ? A mirror works both ways, you know."
I wanted her to say something. Anything. Yet she just stared up at him, almost in fright.
"So go ahead," he said. "No one's looking."
At those words he looked straight at me. I was, to say the least, totally frozen in place, a stone statue in the middle of the office. He had the same smug grin on his face he had right after getting Amber. I'd fallen for it. And my mom had fallen in the same trap every doe-eyed high school bimbo had fallen for.
Her hand rose, slowly, and with a tremble, and without needing another word, she swallowed hard and began unzipping the jeans that stood right above her other arm still resting on the chair. She took her time, and when the zipper was down a swollen mass of meat plopped out of his pants, an uncoiled rope that fell over her forearm and left her breathless.
"My word, Tyrone," she said.
What happened next surprised me.
"Now listen," he said. "This is just a taste. If you want more, you'll have to prove it. The stalls on the L wing where they're renovating, you know it?" He gave her no time to respond. "I'm going to walk there now, and you're going to follow me in a few minutes, you understand?"
She said nothing, yet I knew in her face, in her wide eyes and blank, totally sexed expression, that she was accepting his offer. Just as he began to put his dick into his pants I stood up and began walking away. I didn't know what to do. The only thing I knew was that I had to stop it all from happening. I would meet them in the bathroom, I decided — confront them.
They were rebuilding a wing of the school, and other than a few painters working in the classrooms, it was totally empty. I got a jump on Tyrone and entered the bathroom he was speaking of. I stood right in the middle of the room and waited.
When Tyrone walked in, I expected him to be shocked by my presence. I felt a heat rise up in me, and I was about to speak — to shout at him, even — when he spontaneously brought his dick back out of his pants.
I couldn't go on. He waved dismissively in my general direction.
"You can watch, or you can go. I don't really care. You know she'll do it either way, right? Sorry, man. Ho's gonna ho, 'namean ?
"Tyrone, you can't," I stammered.
"Naw, I can. An' I will."
I don't know what overtook me. I was powerless. I should have left, but I didn't want my mom to see me, and I knew I couldn't stay there. I ducked into a stall, the first one. Closed the door just as my mom entered the bathroom. I stood up on the toilet. I could hear her tapping high-heels before I could see her. It was almost surreal when she appeared, more-so when I saw the control Tyrone had over her.
"I've only come here to say how inappropriate—"
"Down," Tyrone said, all cool, interrupting her.
She was already taken aback by his dick once again. It seemed as if it had some sort of magical power over her. It was as if she couldn't resist herself. I felt so dirty watching... but now I was more trapped than before.
"On your knees, Ms. Walker."
In her tight skirt and high heels it took her a moment, yet she didn't hesitate. Soon her knees were on the tile floor, and the gargantuan rope of flesh before her was in her hands. She began to rub the shaft, soothingly, and it reminded me of how she used to rub my back when I was little, relaxing me before I slept.
She made a little groan as his dick began to rise. It pulsed upwards with a flicker of movement and was suddenly at attention. The massive pole shot past her head ; her shoulder practically made a shelf for it. She must have already taken her panties off before she came into the bathroom, if she even had them on in the first place. I saw a trail of oozing moisture going down her leg from beneath her skirt, the gloss of the substance shining under the florescent lights.
She continued to massage his member with both hands, slowly at first, and then quicker, and then, without direction, she placed the head in her mouth, and slowly began to bob on the pole, her eyes closed, wincing, as she attempted to engulf the whole thing.
"There you go," Tyrone said, calmly. "Take your time with it."
The niceness of his tone almost seemed to bring her to, as she slid her mouth from his dick and looked up at him. "What if someone comes in?" She asked. "This isn't smart."
"Who told you to stop, bitch?" In one motion he grabbed her by the hair and she made a little yelp as he put his dick forward.
"Swallow it", he said.
It took her a moment to open her mouth. As far as he was concerned it was a moment too long, as he clamped her nose shut with his index finger and thumb, which made her do as she was told.
"Good, Ms. Walker. That's what we want."
He took control of her then. Her mouth was just his play-thing, and even as she gagged, as strings of saliva began to fall to the ground as he railed into her mouth, he refused to give up until she put both hands on his massive thighs and pushed off of him, falling onto the floor in a heap, catching her breath.
"Up," he said.
She huffed. "Please. I need some time."
Her enormous breasts heaved up and down as she regained her breathing. Tyrone used the moment to run his hand along the collection of her juices and saliva that had fallen to the floor. He rubbed it between his fingers like a coin before walking over to her and pulling her up with his other hand.
"Over here," he said. He brought her to the sinks — three of them in all. He chose the middle one — and leaned her over.
"You — you can't tell Andy," my mom stammered. "it'd kill me."
"Of course not, he said, and through the mirror I could see his smug grin again. "I'd never."
Without another word he ran his hand, already slicked with juices, against her pussy, and she quivered at the touch. Her tits were housed on the sink top, pushed up against her chin as she leaned over.
She whispered something, but I couldn't hear it, just as Tyrone aligned his cock to her slit.
"What's that?" he asked.
This time, I heard her loud and clear: Fuck me.
He tried to impale her in one stroke. It was so big it didn't really go in all that far, but her moan was so lust-fueled in response that my only thought was that she'd literally been stabbed with pleasure. He took her with a ferocity I hadn't seen even in porn, holding the belt around her waist at first, before grabbing a hand full of hair for greater pull.
"You like that, Ms. Walker?" he asked.
"Please," she said. "Harder."
He paused for a second, as if to consider the possibility, and then pulled her hair so hard her ear was up to his mouth. "Just remember you asked for it," he whispered.
Suddenly, with her back totally arched, he pulled up her top, revealing her breasts, and gripped one with his hand. He placed his left leg on the sink table, and began pounding into her relentlessly, her ass reddening with every thrust, his dick, white with her juices, exploring every inch of her insides.
"Are you a little slut, Ms. Walker?"
She didn't respond, and he answered himself by pinching her nipple, groping the enormous mound of flesh, slapping it.
"I asked you a question," he said.
"Yes," she said. "I'm a . . . little slut."
"Are you my slut?"
He dropped her tit and let go of her hair, pushing her head forward. Now both of her huge gargantuan orbs were sitting in the sink bowl, sharing the space, her forehead resting on the faucet.
"Your slut," she said.
He found a rhythm now, and I watched mom's body clench, her teeth chatter and her legs buckle as an orgasm ripped through her. Even though her legs were limp his huge arms held her upper body in place, as he wasn't done with her, the rag-doll that was my own mother. The ragdoll that was now his own slut to be used...
Suddenly he slowed down.
"No," she said. "Keep going."
"Only when you promise to give me what I want."
"Anything," she said. "Please, just keep—"
"When my grades come through, you'll make them A's for my transcript."
"Tyrone, I can't doctor grades—"
He brought his leg down from the sink and turned her around in one motion. As she twirled his massive dick flicked against her body. He grabbed her by the torso and picked her up, placing her against the sink. His dick practically lined itself up with her pussy, as if smelling out where it belonged, and he took her once again.
She thrashed wildly as he grabbed both of her tits in his hands, popping one into his mouth, then the other, the same breasts I had fed on as a child, the breasts that were now his and his alone.
"FUCK ME," she said. "JUST LIKE THAT. JUST LIKE FUCKING THAT.."
She clenched her legs around his ass and scratched his back, and she was speaking loud enough that I figured someone might hear, yet in the moment she didn't seem to care.
Their mouths met and they kissed passionately, as if this was the culmination of years of waiting, and I felt embarrassed as he toyed with her.
"You're mine," he said.
"Only yours," she said, her tone desperate.
"Tell me you'll give me what you want."
He sped up and she tried to bring him in even closer as he sawed into her, her mouth open, her eyes closed, seeking to house him as deep inside of her body as possible.
"Whatever you want.
"Yes, baby. All A's, of course."
The words were all he needed to hear, and he began to grunt, the sound of his pelvis meeting her own almost as loud as he was.
"I'm gonna cum," he said.
"Do it," she said. "Cum in me. Cum in my pussy, Tyrone."
He groaned, a breast firmly in one hand, and began depositing into her, and I could almost sense each of those final thrusts as rope after rope of cum emptied into my mother, her legs clenched around him, her body begging for every last drop.
For a moment they held one another, and she rubbed his ear delicately with her finger, stared into his eyes. His dick exited her with a plop, and her pussy, stretched to all hell as she sat over the edge of the sink began leaking excess cum, what seemed like a gushing stream huddling into a slough on the ground.
"Clean me up," he said, and she crawled back to the ground, not even considering that she was kneeling in his cum, not caring at least, as she took his member into her mouth, and slowly licked it clean of his juices and her own.
Just then, the bell rang.
"Ms. Walker?" he asked, with the innocence of a student as asking a teacher a question.
"I don't expect you to clean yourself up, do you understand? I want my cum in you all day, leaking out, the stickiness still on your thighs. Just so you know who you belong to. I want you to go to bed like this, so you leak all over your sheets."
"If that's what you want," she said looking up at him, his deflated penis still in her hand. It almost seemed to pain her to let go of it.
"That's good, Ms. Walker. Good slut. Now get out of here, I gotta take a piss."
After a moment I heard the heels click-clacking away, and just as the door to my stall opened in one sharp swung it dawned on me...
"My, my. What do we have here ?"
He was terrifying.
"What's your name, little girl ?"
He damn right knew my fucking name! But in the moment I couldn't even stammer properly.
"What's that ?"
"Get your feet off the rim of the toilet bowl, Andy. Stand inside it instead."
I did exactly like he said, standing awkwardly inside the porcelain bowl, one heel wedged where the water goes.
"Take down your pants", he said. "That's right, push them down around your ankles. Now your underwear. All the way down. That's a good boy." he said, soothingly. Meanwhile there I stood, naked from the waist down, my pants and shorts bunched around my ankles in the toilet bowl.
His stream hit me on my right knee. I quivered, under Tyrone's smug grin. He moved it up, towards my crotch, and for the next minute he cut his powerful, manly stream into my tender flesh, urine dribbling off my balls, down my legs and pooling into the crotch of my pants by my feet, soaking up my socks and sneakers. Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, the sensation was extremely intense, and very pleasurable. Eventually he was done.
"Clean it up" he said.
"W... what ?!"
"Clean it up, bitch. You've seen your mom do it, now get on with it."
I tentatively flicked my tongue around his head, tasting his fresh urine and a faint whiff of cum, and an even fainter wiff of something else. Suddenly, just as my tongue was visiting the little spot under his head where the knot goes, he squirted one last squirt straight into my mouth. It went down like nothing. I looked up, he had his grin plastered all over his face. I got on with cleaning him off.
"Enough of that, faggot. What's your next period ?"
"Mr. O'Dreary ?"
"You'd better go to that class. I'm going to ask Mr. O'Dreary if you showed up or not, and if he says you didn't show up or were late there's going to be hell to pay. You hear me ?"
"Yes..." I said, pondering nervously what the fuck to do. How the hell am I going to pull this one off ?!
"Good boy. Just like your mom. I like that. I'll be over the house this weekend, sometime when I feel like it. Don't go anywhere, I want you to be there when I come by. You hear me ?"
"Yes what ?"
"Yes sir ?"
"That's better. I wanna piss all over that pretty face of yours. Would you like that ?"
I didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking at me. I suddenly realised the break's almost over, I needed the time to fix myself.
"Yes, yes I would. I'd love your piss all over my face!" I said.
"Good", Tyrone offered turning away. "Wear a pair of your mom's panties. If that slut even has any, that is."
Without even for a second pausing to think about the prospect of spending the entire weekend hanging around the house in my mom's underwear, waiting for Tyrone to come by and fuck her again, and... and do things to me, I rushed off to the sinks praying that please god let the water be running.
It was, and the endorphin rush of the relief was so great I started rubbing one out furiously right then and there.
Wednesday, 20 April 2016
I likes your story. I't made me a little hard.
Thursday, 21 April 2016
Friday, 22 April 2016
Friday, 22 April 2016
Come again :)
Sunday, 24 April 2016
good story. Thanks for sharing.
Sunday, 24 April 2016
Monday, 25 April 2016
Made me cum ... Thx
Monday, 25 April 2016
And always remember, it's not really rape as long as it happens in school.
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Fantastic, Enjoyable read! Now I want a piece of Ms. Walker... or... do I want to BE Ms. Walker?
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
There's a sequel, see below.
Wednesday, 27 April 2016
Read your story. Pretty exciting. Id like to see ine with more roughness and maybe some bondage.
Friday, 29 April 2016
The water-sports clean turned me off just as I was getting a stiffy. Humiliation is boring.
Friday, 29 April 2016
@michael armstrong Well you know how it goes, diffrent strokes for different people.
Monday, 16 May 2016
Well written technically. The use of the pace of the prose to augment and reinforce the development of the action works brilliantly. The choice descriptors is tediously traditional and as such a little disappointing, but if the purpose is more pornographic than erotic, why advertise?
The actual events are not particularly appealing to me personally. That isn't so much a literary problem as is the murky transition of the "closet sadist stud muffin" from meek and sympathic to "blustering bully asshole".
Perhaps he is crying out for help. Help in the form of a comeuppance administered by a mid-life, strong, secure professional woman who has recovered from a momentary indescression that resulted in her own humiliation and "rape" after learning that her vulnerable pubescent son was also humiliated and raped immediately post her own ordeal.
One fitting senerio for such richly deserved retribution would involve serving the bully-top a mild mickey in his drink when he arrived at her and her son's home. In the jock's mind was a fantasy of a wild, controlling sadistic bisexual insestious weekend romp with a velouptous mother and her twink son.
To the asshole's dismay, he find's himself awakening to a wholely different senerio. That of being securely wired to a metal table in a bent over position, his knees and ankles affixed to the metal legs, his arms outstretched, wrists wired to the tops of the table's legs at the opposite end.
Throughout the next day and a half, he experiences various lovingly administered delights as ice water enemas, assbeatings, inner thigh pinches, blindfold sessions combined with periods of muffeled hearing and nose clamps. All the while alternating stimulating doses of interminable strap on sex, taylored excruciatingly personal questions, rants, observations calling to his attention his most troubling self-lothing shortcomings. He is forced to perform cunnelingus on select volunteers that he has abused. He may even be sodimized with his own lacross stick.
After he has been broken psychology, he earns back his self-respect as a reformed and truly caring, supportive and sympathetic asexual young man who chooses to attend Notra Dame before divinity school in his preparation for entering the priesthood and missionary service to the tribal people of the remotest areas in the volcanic regions of Borneo.
Tuesday, 17 May 2016
Rather not. That "strong, secure professional woman" is a rather borish literary convention, don't you find ? If I were to write about things unknown in nature, might as well do manticores and amazons. They'd have about as little cachet, but at least the dank mists of dead languages engulf them in somewhat of a substitute.