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"Mikey, Come on, we're going to be late!"
Michael grumbled at his father's command. He didn't want to go to summer camp, dammit. He got up and grabbed his duffel bag. He trudged out the door with all the enthusiasm of a school day.
"Dad, why do I have to go to this thing?" he whined.
"Look, son, your mother and I think you're too damned shy. You've got to learn to interact with people. This camp will help you do that." His father smiled in a way that Michael didn't understand, but he didn't much care, either. He kissed his mother good-bye, and trudged out of the house.
On the ride to the camp, Michael looked at the passing countryside. He didn't know where they were going, but then, he didn't really care, either. His father could only put up with so much of the silence.
"Come on, cheer up, Mikey. You're gonna like this camp."
"Yeah, right." Michael was sixteen, and his parents had sent him to one summer camp or another for the last six years. He supposed they enjoyed having the house to themselves for a week or two each year, but it was usually boring as hell for him.
His father grinned at him. "No, I mean it. I think you're going to like camp this year. It's different."
"What, are you sending me to boot camp this time?" Michael snapped.
"More like booty camp," his father quipped. "Your mother doesn't know this, Mikey, so don't say anything to her when you get back, but they guarantee you will get laid at this camp."
"Oh?" Michael said, his ears perking up. "Just what the hell kind of camp is it?"
"It's a confidence-building camp. As they put it, they feel there is no better way to boost a young man's confidence than to make him good with the ladies. You're gonna love it!"
"Maybe," he allowed grudgingly. After that, they lapsed back into silence for the rest of the drive.
Finally, his father pulled into the driveway of a large, stately house that would best be described as a mansion. Michael looked up at the house with wide eyes; he'd expected to spend his week in a dorm, despite his father's words that this was an unusual camp.
As they pulled up to the front of the house, Michael noticed a nice-looking woman standing with three girls, all of whom were about Michael's age. He eyed them shyly, not wanting to appear to gawk, though they were all stunningly attractive. He nearly stumbled getting out of the car, and he waited for the giggles from the girls. He was surprised when none of them laughed.
"Good afternoon," said the woman. "My name is Kendra. You are..."
"Richard Farlowe. This is my son, Mikey."
"Michael," he corrected automatically, but quietly. He'd been trying to get his parents to stop calling him Mikey for three years without success.
Kendra heard his very shy pronouncement, however. "Welcome, Michael. I'm glad you were able to make it. Is that your only bag?" Kendra looked at the rather small duffel disapprovingly. Michael wilted, but nodded his head.
"Well, okay. Mr. Farlowe, you'll be back to pick him up on Saturday?"
"Yes. He has to be at school on Monday."
"Very good. We're all set. Michael, if you'd just ask one of the girls to show you to your room..."
"Huh?"
Kendra motioned to the three girls, still standing quietly with smiling faces, waiting for him. "I have other things to do. If you would ask one of the girls to show you where your room is..."
"Uh... okay."
Michael didn't see the looks passing between Kendra and his father as he walked very hesitantly over to the three girls. All of them smiled, but it was not the condescending smile he was used to getting from girls. He had no real way to pick one, and so played a silent game of Eenie Meenie Mynie Moe with himself and chose the redhead on the left.
"Excuse me, but could you show me where my room is?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. She heard him, anyway.
"Sure!" she said, seemingly happy to oblige. "My name is Tess. I'll be looking after you for the week. C'mon, your room is this way..."
Michael followed her, very unsure of what was about to transpire. He didn't know that he would come away from the week a very different guy.
Neither did his parents.
Michael stood on the porch with the others, waiting for his father to show up. He'd had a truly transformational experience at the camp, and he was happy, for once, that his parents had sent him to one. He waited patiently as parent after parent came to retrieve their child, and he stood back, knowing his father would be late, as usual.
While he waited, he chatted with Tess. He and she had spent their entire week together, though she'd not always been an active part of what he was doing. He looked over at a couple of the other girls and smiled, remembering his time with them.
When he realized that Kendra was standing near him, he stood a little straighter. As he did so, he let his hand brush her ass. He let it stay there a bit longer than necessary.
"You naughty boy," Kendra said with a grin.
"Did you say there was more to learn?"
"Oh, yes. But not now. Learn to master what you already know, and come back next summer."
"Okay." Just then, Michael's father pulled in the driveway. "There's my dad, finally." Michael reached over and pulled Tess to him, kissing her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth easily. She pressed herself against him and sighed. Michael broke their kiss just as Richard pulled up to the house.
"Gotta go," he said quietly to Tess, who nodded and kissed him quickly again, before moving off. Michael turned to Kendra. "Thank you, ma'am, for all you've shown me." His voice was far stronger and forceful now; his use of ma'am was a matter of respect, rather than fear.
"You're welcome any time, Mr. Farlowe," she said. She smiled as he walked down to the car and tossed his duffel bag carelessly into the trunk.
"Hey, Mikey, have a good time?" Richard asked.
"My name is Michael." he responded. His father's eyes went wide; his son had never spoken up in that tone before.
"Okay... Michael..." he said. They got into the car and drove off into Michael's new life.
"Mr. Marlowe, would you care to pay attention?" the teacher asked.
Michael sat up straighter and feigned interest. They'd been doing review for almost a week now, and he was thoroughly sick of it. Not that he had such an instant grasp of the material; he just hated math. Once the teacher had returned to her lecture, he returned to his daydream. He smiled to think that he was focusing on the teacher, just not on what she was teaching.
Mrs. Ryburn was a very nicely-built teacher, especially for her age. She had just turned forty a few days before. He knew this because her daughter, who happened to be in one of his classes, had let that slip. Her daughter was also a real beauty. He couldn't decide which of them he wanted to see naked more...
"Mister Farlowe!" Mrs. Ryburn snapped.
Michael called upon a technique he'd been taught at summer camp, and he recalled the question he had rather obviously been asked while he wasn't paying attention. He clumsily did the math in his head and said, "eighty-two degrees."
Mrs. Ryburn looked at him with surprise. "That's correct." She did not apologize for snapping at him, however. That annoyed Michael.
"How do you like your dinner Mikey...er, Michael?" Darla Farlowe asked. She was still adjusting to calling her son by his preferred name.
"This stuff is gross," he said.
Both of his parents looked at him in shock.
"Michael!" his father bellowed. "That's no way to talk about your mother's cooking!"
"She asked," Michael said. "Was I supposed to lie to her? You told me never to do that."
There was an odd twinkle in Michael's eye, and Richard was distracted by it. He found it hard to concentrate on his disagreement with his son. He struggled for a moment, then looked over to his wife, hoping for some assistance.
"You really don't like it at all?" Darla asked her son.
"No. I'd much prefer something else."
"Okay. What would you like?"
Michael shrugged. "Maybe burgers or something. This stuff is disgusting."
Without another word, Darla got up to make her son what he'd asked for.
"Darla, what are you doing?"
"Making him something to eat. If he had the good sense to tell me he didn't like it, I can at least fix him something he can stomach."
Richard struggled, trying to come to grips with this. He looked at his son again, and found him staring back. That twinkle was still there, and he felt his concentration waning again...
He shook himself free of the effect, and returned to eating his - admittedly gross - dinner.
"Mr. Farlowe, is it true that you've been ignoring Mrs. Ryburn during class time? She says you are disrespecting her authority..."
"Mr. Peterson, I'm paying attention in class. I admit it may look like I'm not, but that is because of some concentration techniques I was taught over the summer. If you ask her, Mrs. Ryburn will admit that I have been able to answer correctly any time she has called on me." Most of this was a complete lie; he wasn't paying attention in class, but some things he'd learned had allowed him to get around that. His newfound confidence allowed him to tell a bald-faced lie to the principal and get away with it.
Mr. Peterson turned to Mrs. Ryburn. "Is this true?"
Mrs. Ryburn actually hesitated. "Well... yes, I suppose, but..."
"So, you're taking up my time simply because he looked like he wasn't paying attention."
"I guess..."
"Mr. Farlowe, you can go back to class now."
"Thank you, sir." Michael glared at Mrs. Ryburn before he left. This was the third time she'd tried to discipline him in some way since the year began. He was tired of it.
I wonder if it's time to try out some more of what I learned?
Michael strolled down the hallway, ambling along without any hurry or care. He'd already talked his way past the security guard, who had wanted to know why a student was roaming the halls after the final bell. He knew that he would find Mrs. Ryburn in her classroom. He only hoped that she would be alone. Anyone else in with her would present a minor problem.
He didn't bother to knock, but just tested the knob. It was unlocked. He walked in and closed the door quietly behind himself. He had a brief moment of his old anxiety and fear; what if this didn't work? What he'd been taught said that it absolutely would work, but sixteen years of experience is hard to ignore.
Michael took a deep breath, and decided to proceed.
"Mrs. Ryburn?"
The teacher, who had been erasing material off the chalkboard, turned at his voice. Her face took on a distinct frown.
"Yes, Mr. Farlowe?' She called all of the other students by their first name, but she managed to make his last name sound like an insult.
"I need to talk to you about what was discussed in class today."
"Perhaps you should have been paying attention, and then you wouldn't need to interrupt me."
You're going to pay for that remark.
"I was paying attention, but I didn't get the one section, section 2.8. It didn't make any sense to me at all, and I was wondering if we could go over it."
Mrs. Ryburn sighed. She didn't want to be petty about it, and if he didn't understand the material, it was her job to help him, even if he was taking up her personal time to do it.
"Very well. Let's look at it together."
Michael walked up to the podium, and opened his book to the right section. In truth, he understood this part just fine; it was one of the few parts he did understand. He figured he needed to know the material in order to feign ignorance properly. Mrs. Ryburn moved over next to him, and looked down at the section of the book. He turned his body slightly, so she would have better access to the book. That it turned his body more to face hers was something she would not pay attention to, he was sure.
As she began to lecture him on the material, he ignored her words, and focused on her face. He watched her lips move. He watched as her eyes flicked back and forth across the page, and moved over to look at him, with his fake-interested expression. His eyes wandered down off her face to ogle her chest, which was ample enough for him. He couldn't look lower without attracting her attention too early. He moved his eyes back up to look at the book, turning his body until his hip touched hers, only lightly, as if he was just trying to see the words on the page.
When Michael's hand came to rest on Mrs. Ryburn's ass, she tried to jump away from him. His hand, however, was resting on the other side of her body from him, and he was able to physically hold her near him.
"Mister Farlowe! Get your hand off me now!"
"You don't really want me to remove my hand, do you?" he asked. As he spoke, his hand kneaded her ass cheek. She turned to glare at him, and she saw a twinkling in his eye. Suddenly, her anger became clouded, her judgment fuzzy. She wanted him to remove his hand...
Didn't she?
"Why don't you just continue with the lesson, Mrs. Ryburn? I'm sure you can concentrate well enough, even with my hand doing what it's doing, can't you?"
"Uh... yes... I... guess so..." She was very uncertain now, but every time she looked into his eyes, her willpower dwindled, and her determination faded. She shook her head slightly, to try to clear it, and then turned back to the textbook. Her voice wavered a couple times as Michael's hand squeezed her ass and roamed back and forth, caressing her behind.
Mrs. Ryburn worked her way through section 2.8. When she was reaching the end of it, Michael asked her to continue, because he wasn't entirely clear about 2.9, either. Mrs. Ryburn wanted to say no, but she made the mistake of looking him in the eye when she spoke to him, and her desire to say no faded. She turned back and began to explain the next section of material, and Michael moved closer to her, pressing the entire side of his body up against her as she talked.
Michael listened vaguely to her as she spoke, but his attention was mostly on her body now. He put his other hand on her hip, while his first continued to caress her ass. Mrs. Ryburn turned to ask him what he thought he was doing, but his eyes and his words told her to continue explaining. She did as she was bidden, and returned her eyes to the page, trying desperately to ignore his hands caressing her ass and now her abdomen.
Michael rubbed her stomach gently, letting his hand work its way slowly up her body. He was enjoying this little game with her, though he was as hard as an iron rod and ready to just rape her, if necessary. He didn't think it would be, though.
Mrs. Ryburn gasped as Michael's hand cupped her tit and squeezed. She turned to him, but his eyes caught hers instantly. His hand remained on her breast, and his other hand pulled her closer to him. They were now pressed against each other. She was short, and he was slightly tall for his age, and so they were roughly the same height. He looked deep into her eyes.
"You like it when I touch you, don't you?"
"No..." she said. The conviction in her voice was sorely lacking.
"Aw, c'mon. You know you like the idea of a guy my age touching your body, lusting after you. You'll feel better if you admit it. You want me to keep going, don't you? You even want me to kiss you."
"Nnnnnooo...." she said, indecisively.
"Are you sure?" Michael said, squeezing her tit again, and rubbing her ass with his other hand. He pulled her as tightly against him as he could; he knew she felt his hard cock. "Really sure?"
"Y-y-yes...." she stammered.
"Yes, what?" Michael asked, torturing her.
"Yes... I w-want you to... kiss me..."
Michael leaned in and pressed his lips to Mrs. Ryburn's. She hesitated at first, but her passion was rising and she was soon kissing back strongly. When Michael's tongue slipped out of his mouth and against her lips, she opened her mouth to welcome it, her tongue slipping out to greet it wetly. Their tongues dueled for long moments, and Michael's hand slipped off her tit to cup her other ass cheek, pulling her against him and rubbing her against his hard cock. Even through clothing, it felt good.
Mrs. Ryburn moaned into his mouth as she felt his hands groping her, and as she felt his hard prick pressing against her abdomen. She couldn't believe what she was doing, but she also couldn't seem to stop.
Michael finally broke their kiss, and looked into Mrs. Ryburn's eyes again. She tried to look away, but it just wasn't possible. She barely noticed what he was doing as his eyes seemed to absorb her entire attention, their twinkling nature drawing her into his control. When he finally allowed her to look away, she found herself without a blouse on. She thought to cover herself, but something stopped her.
"You've got a nice pair of tits, Mrs. Ryburn," Michael said. "Wouldn't you like to show them to me? Why don't you take off your bra?"
"I can't do...that....is...um... a good idea, I guess." She reached back and unfastened the garment, shucking it off her shoulders and pulling it off her body. Michael grinned as her ample tits came into view, showing him her large, pale areolas and her large, erect nipples. He reached out and tweaked her nipple, causing her to gasp in shock.
"Nice," he said. "Very nice. But you know, it's only fair if I show you mine, since you showed me yours."
Before she understood exactly what he meant, Michael had unfastened his pants and shoved them off his hips. He quickly did the same with his underwear, and Mrs. Ryburn's eyes were inexorably drawn to his erect prick, standing proud and pointing straight at her.
"Mister Farlowe..."
"Michael."
"M-Michael... what are you doing?"
"Just returning the favor, Mrs. Ryburn..."
"You d-don't..."
"Does it look good to you?"
"What?" she asked, stunned.
"Do you like it? Does it look good? Do you want to... touch it?"
"N-n-no...." she stuttered unconvincingly.
"Aw, c'mon... sure you do." Michael reached out and took her hand, drawing it closer and closer to his dick. She made only a token resistance, and when her fingers brushed his cock, she groaned. He helped her wrap her fingers around the shaft, and then let her hand go. He smiled victoriously when she didn't remove her hand.
Michael moved his hands up to her face, taking it into his hands, and then he kissed her again, softly.
"You can stroke it a little... if you want to," he said, his eyes twinkling at her again. She blushed, but her hand started to move back and forth on his shaft in tiny motions, then growing larger. Michael shivered at her touch.
"You're pretty good at that, Mrs. Ryburn. What else are you good at?"
"I...don't understand," she said.
"Well... do you give Mr. Ryburn head?"
Mrs. Ryburn blushed crimson, but nodded.
"Ohh, goodie. Wouldn't you like to give me head?"
"No, that would be..." She ended up looking into his piercing, twinkling eyes again... "Well..." She couldn't shake his presence, couldn't fight what he wanted. "Okay," she said, finally giving in to the inevitable.
Slowly, Mrs. Ryburn sank to her knees before the teen, and her eyes locked onto his cock as her hand continued to stroke it lightly. She licked her lips, and then opened her mouth to wrap her lips around the head of his prick. She licked at the very tip, and then she pushed her head forward, taking more of his hard cock into her mouth. She pushed forward until she couldn't take any more of him in, and then she began to slide back off. It took her only seconds to set up a rhythm.
"Oh, shit, Mrs. Ryburn, you've got a very lucky husband."
Mrs. Ryburn didn't answer him; her mouth was busy working over his cock. She didn't notice the knock at the door, but the voice startled her.
"Mom?" It was her daughter, Sonya. Mrs. Ryburn thought to get to her feet, but she suddenly felt Michael's hand on the back of her head, insisting that she continue working him over.
"Hey, Sonya," Michael said. "Your mom told me you were coming. She said just to come on in, and she'll come shortly." Michael laughed inwardly at the thought of how each of them would be coming.
"Okay..." Sonya said, coming in and closing the door. "Do you know where she went?"
"She went down..." On me, he didn't add. "Somewhere or other." He shrugged, as he kept his hand on the back of Mrs. Ryburn's head, forcing her to continue her blowjob.
"So what're you doing here?" Sonya asked him as she got to the podium. She was now close enough to see that there was someone kneeling behind it. "What the fuck?" Sonya accused, not aware, yet, of who it was. "If my mom catches you..."
"Sonya," Michael said, causing her to look him in the eye, as he had intended. The twinkling drew her in and caught her attention as he spoke. "You kind of like me, don't you?"
"Uh... yeah, I guess... yeah, you're nice... and kinda cute... I guess..."
"That's good. You've been secretly watching me, haven't you?"
"Uh... why would I do that?"
"You were checking me out, weren't you?"
"Um... maybe, I guess... I don't know..."
"You've been attracted to me for a while."
"Uh... I suppose..."
"You've wanted to get close to me. C'mon, I've seen the way you look at me..." It was actually the way he looked at her, but now was not the time to quibble.
"Yeah, I guess." she said.
"Good. C'mon around here and give me a kiss."
"What, while you're getting..."
"Yeah. I want to get it from both ends."
"Uh... okay... I guess."
Michael kept his hand firmly planted on Mrs. Ryburn's head. The conversation had distracted him, which was nice, because it meant his blowjob lasted longer.
Sonya came around the podium, and still didn't recognize her mother. Mainly, she was confused, and her eyes were still mostly locked onto Michael's. He kept his gaze leveled at her, and she couldn't look away. As their lips touched, she closed her eyes, finally free of his gaze, but not his control. She felt his hand come around her and rest on her ass. She tensed, but couldn't resist as he began to fondle her ass cheek. Their tongues were soon dancing, and he let Mrs. Ryburn's head free so that he could bring his hand up to fondle Sonya's tit through her blouse. Her tits were smaller than her mother's, but still nice handfuls. And she had not worn a bra, probably because she was just through with cheerleader practice, and would shower when she got home, even though she'd taken a quick one in the locker room.
Sonya broke their kiss and tried to back away, but Michael's hand rose to her lower back, keeping her firmly in place.
"What are you..."
"You want me to touch you there, don't you?" His eyes were almost like stars now, twinkling so brightly she teared up.
"I...I... guess so..."
"You want me to play with your body, don't you." It was not a question this time.
"I...yeah, I think so..."
"You want me to do whatever I like to you."
"Yeah."
"And you'll do to me whatever I ask."
"Yeah," she replied, more quickly than before.
"Good girl."
He returned his hand to her tit, twisting her nipple through her blouse. He pulled her back to him and kissed her hard. He felt her mother's movements on his cock increase, trying to suck the cum out of him. He knew he was close, and with two women servicing him now, he would be hard-pressed to resist.
As Mrs. Ryburn worked faster on his cock, Michael felt his cum boiling. He groped Sonya's tit more firmly as he grunted into her mouth, and he blasted his cum deep into Mrs. Ryburn's mouth. She almost gagged, but managed to swallow fast enough to avoid it, and she swallowed the rest of his cum, as well. Michael grunted throughout his climax, and then he broke his kiss with Sonya as it tapered off. He was out of breath.
He pulled Mrs. Ryburn's mouth off his dick; it was just too sensitive after just having come. She looked up at him, and Sonya looked down, for the first time, to see who was kneeling before them.
"Mom!" she screamed.
Michael pulled Sonya close and kissed her again, hard. When he broke their kiss, he stared her in the eyes.
"Don't you think it's hot, you and your mom doing the same guy at the same time?"
"Well..." Sonya said, unsure. Those twinkling eyes were making it hard for her to think.
"Doesn't it get you all wet and horny, thinking about me and your mom together?" Michael massaged her tit just then, and she moaned.
"Yeah..."
"Good. Now, why don't you suck me back to hardness while your mom gets undressed for me?"
"Okay."
Michael helped Mrs. Ryburn to her feet, and the woman watched as her daughter sank to her knees to replace her. Michael pulled Mrs. Ryburn over to him and fondled her tits. He groaned as Sonya's mouth engulfed his cock.
"Michael, I don't know about this..."
"Mrs. Ryburn, don't you want me to date your daughter? Wouldn't you like her to date a nice guy like me?"
"Um... yeah, I guess so..."
"And you want to make sure your daughter is getting the best possible treatment, right?"
"Of course."
"And the best way for you to know that is to sample the kind of treatment she's going to get, isn't it?"
"I suppose..."
"Well, I plan on fucking her a lot, so it would make sense for me to fuck you, too, just so you'll know what she's getting. Right?"
"Um... yes, I guess that makes sense."
Michael nodded. "Sure it does. So why don't you get out of those pants?"
Mrs. Ryburn tried hard to fight her way through that reasoning, but Michael's eyes kept in contact with hers, and she just couldn't do it. She unfastened her slacks and pushed them off her hips, letting them fall to the floor. She slipped out of her heels as she stepped out of the pants. Then she let Michael pull her closer to him, rubbing her naked body against him.
"Take off my shirt," he said. Mrs. Ryburn complied, tugging it out of his jeans, and then pulling it off over his head. He pulled her close to him again, and now her tits were rubbing against his bare chest. He liked the feel of that.
Michael took his hand and slipped it down Mrs. Ryburn's stomach until he reached her panties. He rubbed across her mound a couple times, but then he slipped his hand into her underwear. Mrs. Ryburn unconsciously spread her legs for him, giving him easier access. She moaned when his finger lightly brushed the side of her clit.
Michael felt the wetness as he stroked Mrs. Ryburn's pussy lips, and he smiled. He loved the look on her face when he slipped his middle finger deep inside her and began to pump it in and out.
As Mrs. Ryburn began to moan, Sonya had finally gotten Michael's dick back to hardness. He looked down at her, and decided it was time to move to the next stage. He pulled his hand out of Mrs. Ryburn's underwear, ignoring the groan she let out. He stepped out of his pants and gently pushed Sonya off his cock. She looked up at him, but he ignored her for the moment, pulling Mrs. Ryburn over to her desk and bending her over it.
Sonya looked over at the two with some dismay. Michael saw that, and grinned. "Baby, why don't you strip for me while I fuck your mother?"
Sonya paled. "You... want me to take off my clothes?"
"Well, yeah. I can't fuck you with all those clothes on!"
"You're going to fuck me in front of my mother?" she exclaimed. Michael found it amusing that she wasn't complaining about him fucking her, only that her mother was in the room.
"Sure. She needs to know that I'm going to do the same to you that I do to her..." His eyes twinkled at her.
"Oh... um... okay..."
"Good girl." Michael turned to Mrs. Ryburn and took hold of her sopping-wet panties. He pulled them down her legs, and then admired the view as she stepped out of them, spreading her legs to expose her pussy to him. He ran his hand over her pussy again, eliciting a deep moan from her. He grinned.
Putting the head of his cock at her entrance, Michael pushed his way into Mrs. Ryburn's pussy. She moaned loudly at the intrusion, enjoying the feel of his hard shaft moving into her body. Michael motioned Sonya over in front of them, so he could watch her strip more easily. She began to peel off her shirt as he started to thrust into her mother, his hands on her hips for leverage. Mrs. Ryburn was groaning repeatedly now as he set up a fast pace.
Sonya watched with something akin to horror as Michael fucked her mother. Still, she pulled off her shirt and set it on a desk, exposing her tits to his view. She cupped them seductively, offering them to him. He smiled at her, and nodded, but he continued to pound away at her mother, who was clearly enjoying his attention.
Sonya unsnapped her jeans and pulled down the zipper, swaying her hips seductively at her... new boyfriend? She began to push them down off her hips, grinding sensually, to entice him. Michael thrust harder and faster into Mrs. Ryburn as he watched Sonya strip for him, knowing that he was going to get into that pussy shortly drove him into a fucking frenzy.
Mrs. Ryburn began to scream with each thrust, throwing her hips back at him to drive him more deeply into her. Michael was slamming into her, fucking her for all she was worth. Sonya had removed her shoes, socks, and jeans, and now she worked at slipping her panties down off her hips. The flimsy garment was soon on the floor, and Sonya was naked. She wasn't sure what to do then.
Michael was still capable of paying attention to her, even while he thrust madly into her mother. "Hop up on the desk and play with yourself while I finish her off. Then you'll get some."
Sonya smiled seductively as she pushed herself up onto the student desk and spread her legs wide. She slipped her hand down, sliding a finger along her slit and then plunging it deep into her waiting pussy.
Watching that drove Michael to thrust even harder, which he didn't think was possible. Finally, Mrs. Ryburn's pussy clenched at his cock, and she screamed out loudly, lost in the throes of a massive orgasm. She bucked and writhed on his cock, and he pounded her throughout, until finally she began to descend, breathless, from her heights.
Michael slipped out of Mrs. Ryburn, giving her a playful slap on the ass. She slumped down into her chair, trying to catch her breath, while Michael walked over to her daughter. He wrapped his arms around Sonya and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. Their tongues were immediately dancing, and Sonya's finger slipped out of her cunt so that she could wrap her hand around his dick. She pulled him toward her pussy, wiggling her bottom to get closer. Finally, she felt the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy, and she rocked her hips, trying to get him inside her.
Michael thrust forward, ramming his dick into Sonya. She screamed into his mouth, and then rocked her hips even harder. He began to thrust into her, rocking the desk back and forth as they started to fuck. Sonya wrapped her legs around Michael's hips, and then he lifted her off the desk. He turned around, took the necessary two steps, and laid her down across her mother's desk. He looked up at Mrs. Ryburn, and he started pounding into Sonya, who was immediately grunting with each thrust and rolling her hips, trying to drive him all the way into her.
Sonya was quickly on the verge of an orgasm, and Michael fucked her all the way through it without stopping. As he continued to thrust into her, she was soon writhing with yet another one. He sped up, and Sonya was in overdrive, seemingly in one long orgasm, her pussy squeezing and milking Michael's cock. He was getting close to his own climax, and so he began to thrust as hard and as fast as he could.
Sonya screamed and moaned and cried out, her body bucking and writhing while her cunt massaged its pleasant invader. She suddenly felt the hot blast of Michael's cum filling her pussy, and it sent her higher than she had ever been. Her world went into white-out, and her muscles seized.
Michael grunted with his orgasm, and smiled at the appearance of the girl beneath him. It was so satisfying to see her so fully under his power. He looked up to see Mrs. Ryburn, watching with morbid fascination as her daughter came so powerfully.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Ryburn. You were almost that good. Maybe next time."
She smiled at him while her mind reeled... There would be a next time!
Michael pulled out of Sonya after his climax abated, and looked down at his well-fucked little toy. She was completely out of it, and so he walked around the desk to Mrs. Ryburn.
"You don't want me to put my clothes back on all dirty, do you? Why don't you clean me off first..."
Mrs. Ryburn no longer had the will to fight him. She leaned forward, taking his cock into her mouth. She winced at the taste of her daughter's juices on his dick, but she licked and sucked until he was clean. She was glad he had not hardened again; she didn't think she could take another round at this point. He pulled free from her mouth, however, and stepped away from her.
Once he had finished dressing, he told her she could dress as well. He went over and hopped up on her desk, looking down at Sonya, who was only now beginning to recover from the best fuck she'd ever had.
"Feeling better now?" he asked with a smile.
"Mm-hmm," she purred.
"Good. You wanna go out Friday?"
"Abso-fuckin-lutely!" she enthused.
Michael smiled. "You might want to get dressed before you leave," he said with a chuckle, and watched her blush.
Michael hopped off the desk and walked toward the door. "See you guys tomorrow."
Both of them were looking forward to it.
"Hey, Michael. How was your day?"
"Hi, Mom. Fine. Um... what're you doing in here?"
"Just checking on things."
"Could you not come in my room without asking from now on?" Twinkle, twinkle...
"Um... yeah, I suppose."
"Thank you."
Michael woke up slowly, and rolled over. It was Saturday morning, and he had nothing to do. He grinned to himself; he had someone to do, if he so chose, but he didn't think he'd bother today. He'd fucked Sonya pretty well the night before, and he didn't feel the need just yet.
He shoved himself up and got out of bed, padding his way across the hall to the bathroom. Saturday or not, he wanted a shower to wake up with. He scrubbed himself clean and then put on jeans and a T-shirt to get his day started.
"Good morning, Honey," his mother said upon seeing him.
"Hey, Mom," he said, reaching into the cabinet for some cereal.
"What do you have planned for today?" she asked, being her normal nosy self, as moms are wont to do.
Michael shrugged. "I dunno. Might go to the arcade or something. Not a lot to do around here, ya know?"
Darla nodded at her son. "I know. Oh, well. Try to make the best of it."
"Yeah."
Michael walked down the street toward the pool hall. Normally, he would not even go on this street, but his newfound confidence allowed him to amble without concern. He opened the door, and was assaulted by the smell of cigarette smoke. They didn't sell beer here, though, so he was allowed in. He walked past the pool tables, some of which were occupied by people he knew, and into the back room.
In here, there were card tables. Technically, they were only allowed to play for fun. That didn't stop them from gambling, however.
Michael walked up to a table with a game in action. "What's the buy-in?" He meant how much money he had to have in order to join the game.
"Now, you know there's no gamblin' 'round here," the one guy said.
"Of course not. But, theoretically, if this was a real game, what would the buy-in be?"
"Fifty bucks," the man said.
Michael nodded, and sat down in an empty chair. "Deal me in."
"You're some kind of fuckin' cheat!" the man screamed, rising from the table.
"How am I supposed to cheat? I haven't dealt the cards once. I don't have anything up my sleeves... hell, I don't even have sleeves! My hands have never once strayed out of your sight. So how did I cheat?"
The man huffed and fumed, and the owner of the pool hall came over quickly and tapped Michael on the shoulder.
"You might want to take your winnings and go now, before he does something foolish."
Michael nodded, sure he could handle the guy... not that he had any physical skills, but he knew how to throw a punch. Besides, he had other ways of dealing with him... but now was not the time. He picked up the money on the table, folded it, put it in his pocket, and walked out of the room.
The owner followed him. "How the hell did you beat him?"
Michael shrugged. "He's not very good at poker. I spent an entire day learning poker a couple weeks ago." It had actually been strip poker, but he felt no need to volunteer that information.
"Not that I mind at all, but I wouldn't advise that you come back in here... at least not when he's around."
"No problem. I was just bored, anyway."
"You have a good one, son."
"I'm sure I will."
Michael wandered around for a while, just killing time, before he finally decided to head home. He didn't bother to hurry; it wasn't as if he had anything pressing to do when he got there. He enjoyed the late summer day, and smiled to himself.
As Michael walked through the living room, he wondered what to do. He figured he would probably just play on his Playstation 2 for a while, until dinner was ready. He turned to enter his bedroom, only to find his mother in there.
"Ahem," he said, getting her attention. "Didn't I tell you not to come in here without my permission?"
Darla blushed. "Uh, oh, hi, Michael. Yes, you did, but I needed to clean up and..."
"I don't remember saying not to come in here without my permission except, do you?"
Darla blushed even deeper, and dropped her eyes. "No."
"I didn't think so. I guess I'm going to have to do something so you remember next time." Michael moved across the room and sat down on his bed. He motioned to his mother, who came over to stand next to him.
"What are you doing?" she asked when he took her hand and tugged. He pulled harder, and she had to bend over, suddenly losing her balance and falling across his lap. Michael let her hand go then and put his arm across her back.
"It is traditional punishment for disobedience to spank someone. So, I'm going to spank you."
"Very funny, Michael, now let me - OW!" Darla screamed as Michael's hand came down on her ass.
Darla struggled vainly to get away from her son, crying out as each slap landed on her bottom. Michael gave her twenty swats, and her ass was burning by the time he'd finished. He left his hand on her ass after the last hit, figuring it would add to the pain. He remembered the spankings she used to give him when he was young, for minor infractions. He'd never done anything so grave as to invade her privacy, as she'd just done. So he felt the punishment was fair.
Finally, he let go of his mother. She took a long moment to stand up, and she was shaky when she did.
"Now, you'll never come in here without permission again, will you?"
"No, Michael," she said, her eyes averted.
"Good girl," he said with a smirk. "You may go now."
Darla walked out of the room, her cheeks burning. She could only see the image of Michael's twinkling eyes in her mind.
Michael heard his father come home, and so he waited. He had known that there would be consequences for his earlier action, but he had a feeling those consequences weren't going to be what his parents intended.
It was about five minutes before there was a sharp rapping at his door.
"C'mon in," he said calmly.
The door opened, and his father stood there, his face twisted into an angry frown. "Did you really spank your mother?"
Michael shrugged. "Isn't that how you're supposed to punish someone that does something wrong? It's how you always punished me..."
"She's your mother! What gives you the right to punish her at all?" he snapped.
"Since you taught me that the rules apply to everybody. Hey, she agreed not to come into my room without permission. She broke that agreement. I punished her. What's the big deal?"
"I think you're getting a little too big for your britches, young man. It's nice that you feel secure enough to try this kind of thing and all, but you've got to learn where your limits are!"
"So you're telling me the rules only apply to me? That's pretty hypocritical, Dad."
"When you've spent the last sixteen years of your life raising a child..." he started.
"I did. I raised me. Doing a pretty good job so far, too." Michael grinned at his father, and his eyes twinkled. His father tried to shake off the effects, but it was impossible.
"So you're telling me that I need to know my limits, is that it?"
"Yes," his father said, feeling comfortable back on familiar ground. He didn't know the ground was about to be ripped out from under him.
"I think that we need to really, firmly establish our limits, then."
Richard stared at his son. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I'm not quite the same person I was at the start of the summer, you have to admit. I think that the rules affecting me should reflect that."
"In what way?" Richard asked guardedly.
"Lots of ways. Tell you what, why don't we play poker over it? Each hand can be about some rule or other that I want changed. If I win, we do it my way. If I lose, we do it your way."
Richard grinned. He knew his son was lousy at poker. It didn't occur to him at the time - mainly because he was under the influence of Michael's twinkling eyes - that his son wouldn't have made the challenge if he was still lousy at poker.
"Fine," he said.
Just then, his mother walked in the room. Michael said, "And you both agree to abide by the results?"
"The results of what?" Darla asked.
Richard said, "Our son wants to establish new rules for his behavior. We're going to play poker for it."
Darla also smiled. "And you want to know if we'll stick with the rule changes?"
"Yes," Michael said, keeping his face serious. He didn't want to scare them off.
"We will if you will," Richard said. Darla nodded.
"I promise, I'll follow the rules set by the head of household." Michael had worded that very carefully.
Richard and Darla both nodded. "Okay," Richard said. "Let's take this out to the den."
Michael settled into his chair, his plan now fully in motion. He'd not actually had to pressure his father much; Richard loved the idea of using Michael's own actions against him.
"What's the game, Michael?"
"Five card draw. The one who isn't dealing makes the first wager, and there can only be a raise of one privilege after the draw."
"So, if we start off with, say, a new curfew time, it can only be raised to... curfew time, and telephone privileges?"
"Right."
Richard nodded in acceptance of those rules. Michael took the cards and shuffled them, quickly dealing out the cards. Looking his hand over, he saw a pretty fair hand. He knew he could win with this hand, it was just a matter of what kind of privilege his father started with.
Richard looked his hand over carefully. After some thought, he said, "Okay, we'll start out small. The responsibility to clean your room every Saturday."
"And if I win, then I don't have to do it, ever?"
Richard nodded.
"I call. Dealer takes one card."
Richard looked at him with a smug grin. "I'll take two."
Michael looked down at his new card, seeing - as intended - a destroyed hand. He'd had three of a kind. Now all he had was a pair of fours. He didn't want to spook his father.
Richard looked at his hand, and then said, "I raise you the responsibility to take out the trash without being told."
Michael looked at his hand, and shook his head. "I fold." He tossed in his cards.
Richard smiled, but then he said, "So, what about the first bet? To clean your room?"
"Just like in real poker, if you fold after you've bet something, you lose the bet."
"Okay, good. I'll expect your room to be spotless tomorrow."
Michael's eyes twinkled at Richard, and he felt slightly dizzy. He shook off the effect - he thought - and carried on with the game.
"You've gotten a little better at poker, Honey," Darla told Michael. She was sitting at the table, between the two men. She wasn't playing, only watching, but Michael liked having her there; it set up his father rather nicely. So far, he'd given up quite a few rights and privileges, to make his father comfortable with the scenario.
"Not good enough," he groused theatrically. He'd lost the battle for the trash on the very next hand. On the other hand, he'd gotten his curfew lifted by two hours, which he thought was cool. Not that it would matter much, soon.
Richard dealt. Michael looked at his hand, and had to conceal a grin. He had three of a kind again. Richard couldn't hide the slight grin on his face, and so Michael figured he had a good enough hand to wager with.
Michael said, "I'll bet the right to have girls in my room with the door closed."
Richard arched an eyebrow, but, looking back down at his hand, he said, "Agreed. Dealer takes two."
Michael had three jacks, an ace, and a two. He wanted to keep the ace. "I'll take one."
Richard slipped him his card, and Michael worked mightily to control his expression when it came up with another ace. He had a solid hand. He looked up to see his father frowning ever so slightly; Richard wasn't really the best poker player in the world, it was just that Michael had been so bad before. He knew he couldn't pressure him for anything new if his hand was that bad.
"I check," Michael said.
Richard looked across at his son. "Okay, what've you got?"
Michael laid down his full house. Richard cursed. Darla giggled slightly.
"Did you have a girl in mind, Michael?" she asked with a grin.
"Maybe," he offered.
"Deal," Richard grumped.
Michael dealt, and wound up with a beauty of a hand. He hoped his father bet big on this one.
Richard looked at his cards and took a deep breath. Unbeknownst to Richard, Michael had noticed that his father did that when bluffing. Richard was unaware he did it, in fact.
"Okay, if you want to raise the stakes a little, son, then... I wager your 'right' to spank your mother."
Darla looked at Richard with a frown, and then looked at Michael. She wasn't sure about the grin on his face.
Michael paused for a long moment, theatrically. He said, "So, if I win, then if I ever spank Mom again, you can't say anything?"
"That's right. But if you lose, you can't ever lay a hand on her again."
Michael chewed on his lip for several seconds, trying to convince the others that he was really weighing the value of his cards. "Done," he said, finally. "Dealer takes one card."
Richard frowned, but carried on. "Three."
Michael gave his father his three cards. His own card hadn't improved his hand - as if it needed improving.
Richard looked uneasily at his hand. He was, Michael knew, trying to decide if he could bluff his son into folding. "I'll raise you car privileges. If you lose, you can't ever drive the car without one of us in it."
"And if I win?"
"Then you can take the car anytime, so long as we don't need it for work."
"I call. Let's see 'em."
Michael watched his father deflate. He laid down a pair of sixes. Michael tried hard not to laugh as he laid down four kings. Richard's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Michael waited patiently while his father dealt the cards. Michael didn't have much of a hand... a chance at a straight flush, but he was missing a card for that. His father, though, was looking at his cards with a withering glare, meaning that he had nothing of value in his hand, either.
Michael decided he'd had enough of this game. It was time to start wrapping it up.
"I'll wager your right to punish me."
"What?" Richard exclaimed.
"If I win, you don't have the right to punish me. If you win, I have to submit to your punishment, no matter what it is."
"You really think I'm..." Richard caught Michael's gaze, and he lost his desire to disagree with the youth. "... Oh, fine. I call. Dealer takes three cards."
Michael once again asked for one card. He didn't end up with a card to complete his hand. He could tell, though, that his father also had nothing. What he didn't want to risk was his father having better crap than his own crap.
"I'll raise you a fifty-dollar-a-week allowance," Michael said as hurriedly and anxiously as he could.
Richard saw right through that - or so he thought. "I fold."
Darla looked at Richard. "You just..."
"I know."
Michael dealt, and looked favorably upon his cards. Richard thought he had a reasonable hand, but he was a little more careful now. His son looked over at him, and those damned eyes...
Bet something big, he thought.
"I'll wager all your chores."
Michael considered for a minute, then he nodded. "Dealer takes two."
Richard asked for just one card this time. Michael looked down to see that he had, in fact, completed his flush. Looking down again, he did a double-take and realized he'd put together a straight flush without realizing it. He didn't so much as arch an eyebrow at that; he didn't want his father to have any clue.
Richard looked at his cards, and seemed fairly impressed by them. "I'll raise you your own car."
Michael saw no reason to act anymore. He immediately said, "I call. Let's see 'em."
Richard frowned, but he laid down a full house, aces over tens.
"Not bad. But doesn't beat my nifty little straight flush."
"Holy shit," Richard breathed.
"Deal the cards, Dad," Michael said, smirking.
Michael looked at his hand, and decided to speed his plan along. He said... "I wager the dealing responsibilities for the rest of the game."
"Huh?"
"Whoever loses has to deal for the rest of the game. Since the person not dealing dictates what's being wagered..."
"Oh, okay. I call."
Michael looked at his cards with satisfaction. He had nothing at all in his hand. Looking up, he looked into his father's eyes...
"You might as well give it up," Michael said snidely.
Richard immediately grimaced and said, "I fold."
Michael smiled, knowing that if that had not worked, raising the stakes high enough would have.
Michael looked down at his next hand, and grinned. He looked over to see a similar smile on his father's face. Michael said, "I'm making a... call it a double-wager. If I win, Mom has to sit on my lap whenever I ask her to. If you win, I will give you back my chores."
Richard looked at his son in surprise. This was the first wager that had involved Darla doing something different around her son. He looked to his wife, to see a look of trepidation on her face. Richard winked at her, though, and turned back to his son.
"Do those chores include the trash and your room?" He'd gotten that one reversed in a later bet.
"Yeah, yeah. All of my current chores."
"I call."
After they'd drawn cards, Michael looked at his hand, and then said, "Check."
The hand was not in Richard's favor.
"Mom, could you come sit on my lap, please?"
Darla looked to Richard, who shook his head and averted his gaze. "You'd better do it. We did agree to abide by the results."
Darla moved over as her son pushed his chair away from the table. She turned and sat down in his lap as chastely as possible. Michael didn't mind that; she'd learn to like it in time.
Richard dealt the cards again, while Michael kissed his mother on the cheek. Michael made sure to hold his cards behind his mother's back, so that she could not help her husband. She frowned.
"You don't trust me?"
"Not in a game this important, no."
Darla felt hurt. She actually enjoyed that her son wanted her to sit in his lap, and the fact that she could feel the lump of his semi-erect dick beneath her was turning her on. She wouldn't have helped Richard at this point; she wanted to see how far the game would go.
Michael looked at his cards, and hid his reaction.
"Another double-wager. If I win, I can touch Mom in any way I want. If I lose, she doesn't have to sit in my lap anymore."
"Done," Richard said, without consulting his wife. Michael looked over at him, and with a twinkle, assured that Richard would do something stupid.
Darla looked at her husband with dismay. He'd not even considered asking her.
Michael took no cards at all, while Richard took two. Michael didn't bother raising; he only had two more steps to go, and he could wait. Richard laid down his three aces, only to find that Michael had a full house.
"Fuck," Richard said. Michael smiled at his father as he tossed in his cards. He dropped his hand down onto his mother's thigh, and she sighed very, very quietly. Michael noticed that she parted her legs slightly, and he slipped his fingers down onto her inner thigh. She looked him in the eye, and smiled. He kissed her on the cheek again.
"Play, already!" Richard snarled. Michael had been keeping him in the game; he needed this to play out fully. Losing, however, frustrated Richard, which was useful to Michael, as it made what he was doing easier. His next hand was good, but not spectacular. He considered his wager while he let his hand run up and down his mother's abdomen. She gasped when he cupped her breast, right in front of her husband.
"I'll wager head of household, against everything I've won tonight. That means if I win, I get to make all the decisions about stuff."
"Fine. Just stop groping my wife."
"Only if you win, Dad. I'll take two cards."
Richard fairly flipped two cards over to Michael, who looked at them, smiled, and set them down on the table. He continued to grope his mother's breast, and he saw that she was very much enjoying it. He leaned forward and kissed her, full on the mouth this time. She kissed back, and didn't resist at all. He broke their kiss after only a minute, so that he could get back to the game.
"I'll check to the dealer."
"Let's see your cards."
Michael had kept two queens and an ace, and he'd gotten an ace and a jack. "Two pair, aces and queens."
"Fuck!" Richard only had one pair of kings. "Is this game over, now?"
"Nope. One more hand. Deal."
While his father dealt, Michael kissed his mother, this time slipping his tongue into her mouth while he fondled her breast. She moaned quietly against his tongue. After a few moments, he broke their kiss, and looked over at his father.
"Last wager. Against everything I've won tonight, I'll wager your rights to your wife."
"What?!" Richard exclaimed.
"If I win, you can no longer touch, kiss, fondle, or fuck Mom. She belongs to me."
"You're out of your mind."
"Just make the wager, Honey," Darla said, wiggling her ass against her son's cock. "If you win, he loses everything."
Richard glared at her, but then said, "Done."
Michael looked his hand over and said, "Three."
Richard grinned maliciously as he took only two cards. Michael looked down at his hand to see that he'd gained another pair in the draw. Another pair of the same cards, that is.
"All right, punk, let's see your cards. There's nothing left to wager."
"True enough. Four eights."
"FUCK!" Richard screamed.
"Watch your mouth, there's a lady in the room."
"How dare you..."
Michael's eyes flashed and twinkled. "You said you'd abide by the results of the game, Richard."
Richard averted his eyes downward. He'd been well and truly beaten, and he didn't even know why he'd let the game go this far. He didn't know he'd not had a choice.
Michael ignored his father now as he got a victory kiss from his mother. Her tongue slipped between his lips and tickled across his tongue as she rubbed her hands on his chest.
When they broke their kiss, while Michael was rubbing her tit outside her blouse, Darla asked, "So... if he can't fuck me... are you going to?"
"Yeah. Do you give head?"
"For you, I will," she said with a sweet smile. "Do you want me to right now?"
"First I want to undress you a little."
Darla didn't have time to respond as Michael pulled her mouth to his again and kissed her. She felt his fingers working on the buttons to her blouse, and she moaned as he caressed the skin as it was bared. It didn't take him long to have her blouse completely undone, and then he broke their kiss so she could pull it off.
"Take off your bra, too."
Darla unhooked her bra and pulled it off her body, and Michael marveled at the look of her ample tits. Her dark, tight areolas were puckered, and her nipples were erect. Michael leaned down and took one into his mouth, and Darla groaned out loud.
"Shit, I'm not going to sit here and watch this..." Richard fumed.
"Sit down!" Michael snapped. Richard fairly dropped back into his seat. "No one dismissed you."
Michael returned to pleasuring his mother, causing her to gasp and moan as his fingers worked at the closure on her pants. He finally got them undone and unzipped, and slipped his hand inside her pants, moving his fingers down between her legs to press against her pussy.
Michael finally let loose her nipple and had Darla stand up. Her pants fell to the floor as she did, and she stepped out of them. She was barefoot, and wearing stockings, which looked very nice on her. Michael tugged her panties off her body, and finally she was as naked as he needed her. He saw her curly pubic hair, nicely trimmed and highlighting the way to her pussy.
"Okay, now you can blow me."
Michael pulled off his own shirt as she knelt beside him. He unfastened his jeans, and lifted up to pull pants and underwear down off his hips. Darla pulled them the rest of the way to his ankles, exposing to her view his long, hard cock. She licked her lips at the thought of it.
As Darla wrapped her delicate hand around his cock and moved her mouth closer, she said, "I'm not very good at this..."
"Practice makes perfect," Michael said with a smile. Darla looked up at him and grinned, then ran her tongue all along the sides of his prick. Michael shivered at her touch, and he groaned when she licked around the helmet just before taking the head of his dick into her mouth. She lowered her lips on him as far as she could, and then began to bob her head up and down. Michael whispered encouragements to her, tangling his finger in her hair.
It didn't take long before Michael blew his load deep into her mouth, and she swallowed every drop, licking the head of his cock clean before letting him loose from her lips.
Michael was breathing hard, and he gently pulled Darla to her feet. She moved over and straddled him, sitting down in his lap with his cock trapped between them. They began to kiss passionately, tongues dancing as Darla's hips moved in her son's lap, trying to arouse him. He could feel the wetness seeping from her cunt and coating his dick as she rubbed against it.
Darla could feel her son's cock getting hard again. She didn't understand why she was so wet and willing to be fucked by her own son, but she wanted it now more than anything she could imagine. When he'd spanked her, she'd been humiliated, and yet thrilled. She'd had trouble standing because her pussy was throbbing. Right now, her pussy was throbbing again, for a different reason.
"C'mon, Baby. Fuck your momma," she purred into his ear.
Michael took hold of her ass and lifted her up, holding her in place. She reached down and took his cock in hand, placing it at the opening to her pussy. He slowly let her down onto him, impaling her with his rod.
Darla cooed, "Oh, yeah," as she slid down onto her son's pole. When she felt her clit resting in his pubic hair, she ground her hips against him, exciting herself even further. She began to bounce on his cock, riding him. Michael loved watching her tits bounce, and then he took them into his hands, running his tongue back and forth between them. Darla moaned as he did, riding him even faster.
Richard sat in mute despair, watching her wife fuck their son. He couldn't do anything; he'd been duped into losing his entire position in the house. He had been reduced to nothing more than a workhorse.
Michael had long forgotten that his father was even watching. He kept sucking at his mother's tits, listening to her rising passion. Suddenly, she screamed out, squeezing his cock with her pussy, caught in the tide of a massive climax. He slammed his hips up into her throughout, prolonging her pleasure and making her ride the wave higher and higher.
Finally, Darla crested the wave and started to come down. Michael slowed his fucking to small thrusts, just enough to keep himself aroused as she caught her breath. he continued to fondle her tits, though, which kept her arousal up.
"Mm, Baby, you want to do some more?" she asked in a sultry voice.
"Get up and bend over the table," he said to her. She grinned wickedly at him, and rose from his lap. A moue crossed her face at the loss of his cock, but she knew she'd have it again soon enough. She didn't even try to look her husband in the eye as she bent over the table; instead, she looked back toward her new lover, waiting for him to take her.
Michael rose to his feet, and quickly stepped in behind his mother. He slipped his dick into her, and quickly set up a rhythm of long, fast, smooth strokes. She was soon writhing beneath him as another orgasm washed over her. He didn't even slow down for this one, however. He needed his own release, and he was going to fuck her until he got it.
Darla had no objections. As soon as her orgasm subsided slightly, she was encouraging him to fuck her faster and harder. Michael complied, slamming his prick into her as deep as he could, over and over again. Darla was taken by another orgasm, and then another. She couldn't believe how good her son was making her feel.
Michael was finally beginning to reach his own climax, and he thrust as hard as he could into his mother, his balls slapping against her skin with each thrust. They were both grunting and groaning, and he felt the tightening in his balls that told him he was about to come.
"Oh, yeah, Mom, take this!" he said, thrusting his hips one last time and loosing a torrent of cum deep into her pussy. Darla cried out in pleasure at the feel of his sticky warm cum filling her cunt. She bucked and writhed in her own final orgasm, until she had no breath with which to cry out anymore.
The pair collapsed onto the table for a long moment to try to recover their senses. Richard, feeling he could now leave without being chastised, slipped out to make a phone call.
"What do you mean, there's nothing you can do?" Richard would have screamed, but he was afraid of being heard.
"I mean, the treatment can't be reversed. Your son learned some confidence-building techniques. There's no way to take them back."
"But he's taken over the fucking house!" Richard hissed.
"Mr. Farlowe, you told us that you wanted your son to be a take-charge individual. You wanted him to be more outgoing, aggressive, and self-assured. Did you not tell us all of these things?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"Then I don't think you have any place to complain just because you don't like the results. You should have thought more carefully about what you were asking for before you brought him to us."
"You're telling me there's nothing I can do about this."
"Of course not. You asked us to give your son confidence. We did that. It's not our fault that he is now more confident and capable than you are. Good day, sir."
As he hung up the phone, Richard could clearly hear the sound of sex beginning again in the den.
"Shit."
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