 
                     --===PERVERTED PLEASURES:===--
 
Perverted Pleasures:
 
Story 2: Overconfidence
 
 
 
*Be careful when you undertake to change someone.  You just might not
like what they change into.*
 
* *
 
*inc, mc, reluc, teen*
 
*mF, mfF*
 
* *
 
    "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 goodbye, 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.
 
 
 
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
 
 
 
    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.
 
 
 
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
 
 
 
    "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.
 
 
 
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
 
 
 
    "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,
sliding it up his body 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."
 
 
 
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
 
 
 
    Michael woke up slowly, and rolled over.  It was Saturday
morning, and he had nothing to do.  He grinned to himself; he had
some*one* 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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