Albert was sitting in front of the living room TV when his mother came home from her date. She glanced at him suspiciously as she stepped in the front door closing it behind her. “Were you waiting up for me young man?”
The sixteen-year-old looked down at his lap sheepishly and smiled. “Sort of,” he replied honestly.
Moura laughed and ambled behind him ruffling his hair playfully. “Worried about me Honey?”
“Well Jeez Mom, there’re a lot of crazy’s out there and it’s past midnight. Besides, I don’t trust that Dave guy.”
“And why not?” she asked stepping around sitting in the sofa next to him.
“I just don’t like the way he looks at you, like he’s mentally undressing you.”
“I hope he’s got a good imagination because that’s about as far as he’ll get,” she said grinning. With that, she unbuttoned her Pierre Cardin jacket and removed it tossing it on the sofa.
Albert’s eyes almost popped out of head as he glimpsed at his mother in her dress. “You went out in public like that?”
The Greenish liquid looked ugly. The small bottle was given to him by some filthy hobo after he gave him some loose change when he saw him in the alley near his house as he came home from school. He only wanted the man to go away.
“This is the answer to all your problems.” The man had said.
“How would this bottle solve my problems?” Jim had enquired, surprised that his coins actually reaped something in return.
“You’ll see, just spray it sparingly on yourself.”
This started at a work party that one of the bosses threw on a Sunday to celebrate something, a big win for the company or something similar. I didn’t care about the details enough to remember.
So it was at this party that I met Kay, Jay’s wife, for the first time. They’ve been married for two years and they’d had a son about a year ago. Kay still had some pregnancy fat on her and she was complaining about how she didn’t have the time to work out much and was having trouble losing her pregnancy’s extra weight. At this point Jay was a talking to the sales rep for our department and was out of sight.
“I don’t think you need to worry about it much. You look really good.”
“You’re just saying that.”
My problem was that I was too shy.
Take the time when Mum and I kissed under the mistletoe at Christmas. Admittedly, she'd had a few glasses of wine, but we'd never kissed like that before. She pulled me under the mistletoe, laughing, and took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips. She was wearing a shortish skirt and a sleeveless silk blouse, with a sprig of holly in her hair, and it felt marvellous when I put my arms round her.
But then I felt her soft lips moving on mine, and her bare arms slid around my neck. Involuntarily, I held her closer, and her body moulded itself to me. The kiss lengthened — it must have gone on for over a minute, which is a long time when you're kissing your mother, and it would have been impossible for her not to have felt my growing erection pressed against her belly. Her eyes were closed, and then the tip of her tongue roamed over my lips.
Right after my wife died, my oldest daughter, Annie, who was thirteen at the time, came and climbed into my bed one night and gave me the surprise of my life.
"I know all about fucking and stuff, and I know that since Mama isn't here anymore, you need someone else. Since I' gonna go out and get it done to me pretty soon anyway, I thought that I should just take Mama's place in your bed."
I was too stunned to say anything, and before I could react, she had pulled off her nightgown and was snuggling her naked little body up against me. My body, or should I say one particular part of my body, betrayed me completely, and before I knew it I was on top of my little girl pounding my prick into her cunt.
The bloody mess on the sheets between her legs sort of scared me, but she told me that I hadn't really hurt her that bad and that after I really got going filling her little belly with my hot cock meat that she really loved it.
Date: January 4
To: Dr. R. Anniston
From: John D. Connors
RE: Essay/Letter For The Friday Night Group Session
Dear Dr. Anniston,
As per your request, and as required by my parole officer, I am writing to you to tell you of the events that led up to this writing. At the outset, let me reiterate that I am doing this under protest. The best way that I can explain all of this is to write it in story form so I can keep the events straight.
It began two years ago when I was sixteen. I was living my life of semi-normalcy just fine. Then it happened, as an accident, I think.
I have three sisters, a mother and a dog. Dad left when he 'found out' that he was as queer as a three-dollar bill. Now there is the one you need in these sessions instead of me.