	I watch your breasts over dinner, self-conscious at first, trying to maintain eye contact, but every so often, you make a little motion that indicates I should watch them instead.   They stand out beautifully in a top that doesn’t entirely hide your nipples.  I listen to your voice and answer to them until you run your hand across the flesh of the left one.
	“Mommy,” I sigh.
	“Sweetheart?”
	“They’re beautiful.”
	“Shame you already ate,” you tell me and, standing, left your plate from the table.  “I bought something for you today,” you say from the kitchen.
	“What?” I ask, dying to ask to be fucked, which I know will make you happy, dying for anything that would involve your touch or the dark side of your love.
	“It’s on the bed upstairs,” you say nonchalantly.
	I leave my plate on the table and climb up to the bedroom.  Laid out across the bed is a pair of white panties, white stockings, and a white dress with a very large black bow around it as a belt, tied at the back.  A pair of white heels rest at the foot of the bed.  
	“Mommy?”  I call down the stairs.   No answer.  I stare at the clothing, too aroused, shaking even, to roll my eyes or blow off the desires that pulsed through me.  I stumble into the clothing, my cock leaking onto the inside of the dress, the stockings, into the panties, everything.  The shoes, I try them on but they don’t fit.  Squirming my foot back in forth, I finally get it in but struggle and consider not  wearing them but know you wouldn’t have picked them out for us if you didn’t want to see me in them, didn’t want me in them.
	So I stumble downstairs, dressed in white with a black bow around my back and I see you on the sofa your left hand fiddling with your iPod and your right stroking the tip of a large cock, strapped to your waist.
	“Mommy,” I breathe and close on you, kissing you diving into you my hands on your breasts my tongue in your mouth, my cock growing inside the panties.  Forgetting the roleplay scenarios I had in my head, I groan, “I fucking need you.”
	“You need who?”
	“Beth,” I say, unthinking.
	“Bitch,” you say and push the coffee table back with your foot and then spread your legs.  You look at the cock strapped to your waist then back to me, then back the cock, miming increased confusion at my reluctance to do what you want.  “Three,” you say in a voice that’s barely a whisper.  My mouth envelops your shaft just as the word “two” leaves your mouth.  “That’s a good boy,” you say.  “Suck mommy’s cock good.”  You drop your hand to my hair and toy with it, your eyes glancing down with detached passion and satisfaction.
	I play  at deep-throating your cock but can’t manage to take it to the base.  After three attempts, I look up at you.  “Again,” you say.  I try again and fail.  “Please fuck me, mommy?” I ask.
	You lift up your top, exposing your breasts and I grab it, pulling it off you, and immediately fall to them, not sucking but nibbling with my lips, clumsily straddling your lap and half falling onto the floor, your cock pressing into my belly.  When the first of the milk hits the inside of my mouth, I shudder and quickly grasping the rhythm of it suck out more and more as my hand explores your cock, worming underneath it to rub your pussy as best I can.  I quickly drain the first breast and switch to the  next.
	“Robert,” you say.  “Robert, please stop.  Mommy can’t . .. .. “
	I ignore you, drinking from your right breast until the wetness between your thighs and your gasps slow to a loud, humming purr.  “Mommy wants to get fucked,” you say with throaty warmth.
	I lift my face and look at you.  “My pussy hasn’t been touched . .. . all . . . day,” I pout.
	A feral look arises in your eyes.  “Upstairs,” you say.
	I run upstairs, my dick shrinking inside my girly panties, thrills of excitement running through my body.  I consider disrobing but quickly decide against it.   You’re already behind me before I can plan out how to set the scene, your hands moving over my stomach, warm words in my ears.  I half tense and half relax then pull away from you with a smile and sit on the edge of the bed.
	“I have to pee,” I say.
	“Did mommy’s milk fill you up?”
	I nod.
	“You can pee when you’re ready, but not now.  Right now, mommy needs some asshole.”
	I stare, understanding, rising enough to squirm out of my panties  as you retrieve the lube from the dresser, motion for me to life my legs, insert the nozzle into my rectum and pump a generous amount of fluid inside.  I lift my legs and you catch them, holding my ankles up in your hand.  Your hands run around under my skirt, felling the insides of my thighs, the parts of me that make your hold over me complete.  My breath rises and falls in ragged gasps.  The dildo edges at the entrance to my shithole.  
	“Have you been keeping your asshole tight for me,” you ask and press into me.  A loud groan rises in my throat.  Your cock quickly begins to work its magic on my insides, drawing moans and sighs and quivers from my body and mouth.
	“My pussy loves your cock so bad,” I moan.  “Throw it at me.  I can take it.”
	You raise your eyebrows and start fucking me fast and hard.
	“Fuck me, fuck me goddess,” I grunt guttery, urging you on with crass words until something overtakes me and my head flops back to the bed, eyes rolling back into their sockets.  “Oh, Beth.  Beth?  Fuck me? “  Sinking into the screw, I begin to mew to you excitedly, “Yeah, that’s it, take my ass.  Take my ass and make it yours.  You fuck me so good, mistress.  You make my pussy feel sooo good.”  Right then your hand reaches under my skirt and begins to caress my cock.  “Oh Fuck!” I scream and began to buck at your touch, trying to get away from you, trying to get away from the pleasure of your pounding cock.  You fuck me mercilessly, taking me to the edge of orgasm, listening to my cries and wails until . . . you stop.
	Your hand falls away but the thrusting continues.  Suddenly conscious of my desire to piss, I remain silent and let you fuck me.  When I begin farting on your cock, you pull out.
	“Shower?” I ask.
	You nod with a feverish look about you.
	I strip out of my dress and climb into the tub, bending over and placing my palms on the opposite wall.  You enter me again, thrusting into my swollen, lubed, dark hole.  A more staccato moaning and gasping cries from my mouth as I begin to shit on your cock.  It runs down the back of my legs and you turn and plops to the shower floor.  Just when I think I might find relief, your hand returns to my cock and the blood flow returns.
	“Oh, God, please.  Please.  Please no,” I whine, bucking helplessly back against you.  You cut the shower on and the need becomes overwhelming.  But you don’t need to cum, you don’t need to piss.  You just need to fuck me, and you don’t stop, and you don’t stop let me out of the haze of pleasure and desperate, needing humiliation.   My feet begin to falter on  the shower floor.
	“Fucking bitch,” you say, steadying me.  “That cock feels good, doesn’t it?”
	“Beth, make me . .. . “  I don’t even know how to finish that sentence and urine floods from me onto the shower floor.
	You wordlessly pull out of me and begin to clean me, kissing me, gently reassuring me with your tenderness.  When I’m dry and clean, I return to the bedroom and lie down, cock rock hard.  You crawl over me and slide your disgustingly wet cunt around my dick, and rock slowly to a shuddering orgasm.
