I was just taking the brownies out of the oven that I had made for my son, Kyle, when I heard a knock at the door. This caught me by surprise, since we get so few visitors to the house. This is due to the fact that the entire neighborhood is terrified by my husband. He is a city cop, and an intimidating one at that.
We fell in love in college, when he was the star linebacker of our small, local college. At 6'4'' 225 pounds, he still looks like he could hold his own against professional football players. He could have gone pro if he really had the desire to, but all his life he wanted to be a cop, just like my father-in-law.
And the same aggression he used to use to bring down running backs, he still uses today to stop crime in our town, even though there really isn't a whole lot of it to begin with.
The bulk of his work is drug related, and he is never hesitant to use just a little extra force to send the message to the delinquents in our town. He also makes it very well known that he doesn't like to be bothered at home, and the neighbors wisely stay away from knocking at the door unless they absolutely have to, even if they don't see his patrol car in the driveway.
So, again, I was curious as to who exactly it was knocking at the door. I figured it must be Kyle getting home from his job at Burker King, and he probably misplaced his key again.But I didn't hear the usual whiny scream that accompanies him waiting for me to open the door. Kyle is almost a polar opposite of his father. He is scrawny, cowardly, awkward and 23 years of age.
His father was off to college at 18, and living on his own as soon as he graduated. I can't imagine Kyle ever moving out, just because of how dependent he is on his father and me. When I finally got to the door, I did in fact see my son, but not the way I expected to.
His face was cut up and expressionless, his body was in the arms of a black teenager, and his blood was on the stranger's face and chest. Immediately I was frozen, and sort of blacked out myself out of fear for what had happened to my son. All I could remember was beginning to cry and seeing the lips of the black stranger moving, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. After a short time, he walked into my house and laid my son on the couch, using his own t-shirt to prevent any of my son's blood from getting onto the upholstery.
It was then that I regained control of myself, and asked the stranger what was going on. He explained to me that Kyle had gotten jumped by a couple of goons, and the he had rescued him and brought him here. "How did you know where he lived?" I asked.
"I recognized him as Officer Silverstein's son right away," he replied. "Then I just started asking people on the street where he lived, and I found the place real quick." I was relieved that this guy was my son's rescuer, and not his attacker, as I initially thought was the case.
I thanked him for helping Kyle, and I offered to clean him up right after I called 911 to tell the police what happened, and to get him medical help. He quickly said to me, "First off ma'am, there's nothing the cops can do about the dudes that jumped your son, you should know that since your husband is a cop.
There's no way they would find these dudes." I nodded, knowing what he said was true. "As for an ambulance, you can call one but you ain't really got to worry. Your son's just knocked out, he'll be good real soon, believe me. I grew up in the hood, I've seen dudes get knocked out all the time. And unless shit works differently in the suburbs, he's gonna be fine." I thanked him again, and as I led him to the bathroom to help clean my son's blood off of his black face and chest, I finally asked his name.
"Chuck Liggins," he said. "Remember this name when you see me playing basketball on TV in six years." We both laughed, and I said, "Isn't six years from now going to be a little late to be getting your start in the NBA?
I don't follow basketball closely, but from what I know a rookie generally enters the league around 20-22 years old." He laughed again and asked, "How old do you think I am?" "18 or 19. I could see 17 maybe." He laughed even harder. "Well you're close, I turn 17 in four months. And two years." This I couldn't believe, but he assured me he was being serious. "Well you are the most mature looking 14 year old I have seen in my entire life, I'll tell you that.
You certainly look like somebody who will be playing professional sports in a few years." To be completely honest, I had noticed his chest and abs as we were walking down the hallway to the bathroom, and thought they were just amazing.
The fact that he had such a body at just 14 was really incredible. My 23 year old son was going to be really embarrassed when he found out he was rescued by a middle-schooler. As I checked the rest of his body out I noticed his bulging upper and lower arms, and then I noticed the cuts on his knuckles.
This again made me suspicious that he was indeed the one who attacked my son, and he is just playing that part of the hero to hide what he really did. "How did that happen to your knuckles?" I asked. "Well, I told you I rescued your son from those two dudes that jumped him," he replied. "How the hell do you think I got him out of there?
I had to bust those dudes' heads." This again reassured me of his sincerity, and I felt bad that I had doubted him. I got to helping him clean up, and also disinfecting his cuts.
He then asked, "Ok, so you know my age, so how old are you?" "A woman doesn't tell her age," I said with a laugh. "Why don't you try to guess and I'll tell you if you get it right." "Well, I would say you look about 35, but you obviously ain't that since you got an older son.
You must have had him way young though, so I'm gonna say you're 40." I told him I was actually 45, and just as I couldn't believe his age, he couldn't believe mine. He was all cleaned up, so we went back out to check on Kyle, who was still out. I asked Chuck if he thought I should call an ambulance now, but he reassured me my son would be fine. "So you're really 45?" His question was met with just a smile and a nod from me.
"Straight up, you have the body of a woman much younger than you." I knew he wasn't just complimenting me for the sake of complimenting me, I was fully confident in my body. I got stares all the time, whether just walking down the street, relaxing out on the beach in my bikini, or working out at the gym. All my life I have received countless compliments on my face, my legs, my stomach, and my butt. Unfortunately I never got too many on my breasts, which is why my husband bought me a pair of 34 Ds for my birthday almost a year ago.
He continued, "I mean, I could tell your tits are fake, and I really don't like fake tits at all, but everything else is amazing." I was obviously a little shocked at what he had said, both the vulgarity he spoke with after being so charming up to this point, and also because of his disapproval of my breasts.
He then grinned and said, "I'm sorry for that ma'am, but I've always my whole life said what's really on my mind, that's just how my mama raised me. And I hope you don't mind me calling them tits, because that's just what I call them." I smiled and told him it was fine. In fact I like the fact that he is so open and honest, even if what he said was extremely rude. "And since I'm already speaking my mind, you could probably stand to lose a few pounds too, but you already know that I'm sure.
You don't want that gut sticking out as far as those huge fake tits," he said with a laugh. I was even more shocked at that one, but I suppose he was right.
I had been slacking recently on going to the gym, and I was getting a little heavier than I'm used to. "I do need to lose a few, but you should know that's just not something you say to a woman.
You're young and you'll learn, but you need to know that sometimes it's better to just not say exactly what's on your mind," I said to Chuck. He just laughed again. "I ain't trying to hurt your feelings. But you should come to the gym with me and I'll teach you how to get a perfect body like I got. And instead of you paying me, I'll just harmlessly stare at you're perfect ass all day." With this he got me back on his good side. It was still way too forward of a thing for a 14 year old boy to say, but obviously Chuck is no ordinary 14 year old.
He talks, acts and looks like somebody much older. "Maybe since I saved your son and everything, I could maybe get a feel of that thing too," he said with a wink.
I just stared at him for a second before replying, "Maybe if I wasn't married, and you weren't 14." "Please, if you weren't married you'd be begging for me to have my whole body on top of you, not just my hand on your ass. And age ain't got shit to do with anything, you still think I'm hot right now." He was probably right on both statements.
The latter one was right for sure. But my whole marriage, I had never even so much as thought about being with another man. I made out with another man one while we were still dating and in college, but I never went any farther than that.
I didn't want to say too much, so I just said, "Well it's too bad that you will never find out, because the fact is I am married." Maybe that came out differently than I had planned, because Chuck just started laughing again. "So you admit that you want this 14 year old cock inside you, but because you are married you wouldn't do it." I was disgusted with Chuck now, he had gone from hero, to cute, to jerk.
But I did just quickly imagine him and me, in my bed, his perfectly chiseled body on top of mine. I just as quickly snapped myself out of it.
"Well thank you so much for helping Kyle, Chuck, but I think I can take care of him from here. Can you get a ride home?" He texted his sister to come pick him up and he convinced me to let him get that ass grab he wanted while he waited.
In fairness, it's possible he did save my son's life; I can let him have this one little reward. I looked over at my son to make sure he was still out, because I definitely didn't want him to see.
For an instant I thought his eyes were open, but I decided I just fooled myself into thinking they were. He firmly smacked his right hand onto my left cheek, stinging me pretty hard. He then grasped its flesh, and started to massage. He gently slid his index finger into my ass crack and I quickly pulled away as a tingle shot up my spine. He just laughed again, and I asked him when his sister would be here. "I don't know, she hasn't answered. What smells so good in the kitchen?" I remembered just then about the brownies I had cooked for Kyle, so I offered Chuck to come in and try one.
I loaded all of the brownies onto a plate and handed it to Chuck. He took one, and as he reached the plate back towards the counter, he took a bite.
Then he coughed and dropped the plate to the floor, smashing it into pieces and sending brownie all over the kitchen. He continued coughing as he started to laugh, then he said to me, "What the fuck was that? That was the worst thing I've ever tasted.
Thank god you are sexy as fuck because you are a shitty cook. You would think a chubby girl like you would be better at making dessert." Chuck just continued to be a charmer. Then, as I bent over to get some cleaning supplies out of the cabinet, I felt his palm land right on the same spot on my left cheek as it did earlier, only this time much harder, and hurting much more.
He began to massage again, and I said "I only gave you permission for one of those, Chuck." He came back with, "Well when you stick that thing in my face, I don't need any permission." I let him continue while I fished around the cabinet, and then he slid his finger in my crack again.
Just like the first time, I jumped when he did this, only this time there was the top of a cabinet above my head and I slammed right into it. Chuck started laughing louder than he had all day, but kept his hand right where it was. When he finally stopped laughing he apologized and told me it would be safe to keep looking around. So I kept looking for a certain spray that I knew was in there that would be able to get the sticky brownie residue off my kitchen floor.
Soon, I felt him start to pull my pants down with his other hand. I immediately got myself out of the cabinet and straightened up. "Alright," I said authoritatively, "I think you should go wait outside for your sister." Chuck just smiled. "I haven't even really texted her yet. But, fine, I will, and I'll what outside. But can you do me one more favor before I go?" "What?" I asked shortly.
"Let me see those tits of yours. I've never actually seen fake white tits in person. Maybe it will change my mind." Once again, all I could do was stare at him. "Come on, you're a beautiful woman. A little chubby, but beautiful. I would hate to just go home thinking that you have this enormous fault, when maybe your tits really do look good, and I will be completely unfairly thinking they look awful." I just couldn't believe what this 14 year old boy was saying to me.
But he wasn't done. "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll let you see my cock too." "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I want to see, Chuck," I said. When I said it, I meant to sound sarcastic. But in my head, I knew that the statement held more than a bit of truth. He smiled and said, "Fine, then I guess I'll just go wait outside if you are gonna be that way." I stopped him before he left the kitchen.
"Wait. If you show me your cock first, I'll show you my tits." Without saying another word, Chuck grinned and dropped his shorts. I couldn't believe what I saw. I could tell he was semi-hard, and it was about seven inches, and considerably thicker than my husband's. He laughed when he saw how blown away I was, and he said, "It can probably get another two inches if you take your shirt off." I slowly did, and he apparently got impatient and took matters into his own hands when ripping off my bra, finally exposing my breasts.
"Exactly what I thought. Put your shirt back on. I can't get hard looking at those ugly things. They just look stupid, and that scar is awful." I couldn't believe it. My husband loved my new breasts, and I thought they looked great. "Lucky for you though, I know an easier way for you to get me hard if you really want to see it.
But first, you really need to put your shirt back on." Once I got it back on, he grabbed my hand gently. I knew exactly where it was going to end up. As he guided my hand to his cock, I thought about my husband, and about how terrible it was that I was going to play with this 14 year old boy's cock. But without even realizing it, and still thinking about how I was going to tell Chuck I wouldn't do it, I was already instinctively working his shaft as if it was my husband's.
Soon enough, Chuck was rock hard, and he pushed my hand away. He placed both of his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me down onto my knees. I could feel pieces of broken plate dig into the skin on my knees, but I couldn't feel any pain. All I wanted was to feel Chuck's huge, fully erect cock inside me, and he knew it. But I obviously was going to have to suck it first. With one hand, he grabbed a fistful of my hair; he grabbed my jaw with the other. "No hands slut, you understand?" I just nodded yes.
With that, he released my jaw, and inserted his cock into my mouth, while still controlling my head by my hair. He began to forcefully fuck my throat, and after just a couple pumps I pushed him off of me. "What's a matter, slut? Can't take it?" Chuck mockingly asked. "It's not that," I replied. "Shouldn't I check if my son is awake yet? If he is we can't do this, and if he isn't there could be something seriously wrong, and he should really go to the hospital." Chuck used his free hand to smack me across the cheek.
"And what's your pathetic son gonna do if he catches us anyway?" He didn't even give me a chance to respond as he shoved his cock right back down my throat. He continued gagging me with his cock as his balls slapped against my chin with each pump, and all the while I checked for my son. I couldn't see him, so I assumed he was still on the couch out of sight, so I just let my son get completely out of my mind. After ten minutes or so, Chuck finally released me.
"All fours," is all he said.
As I got into position, he yanked my pants off. And as he slid my panties aside, all I could think about was having my pussy filled with his huge cock. I had been desiring this since the moment I saw it, but didn't want to admit it to myself. But I was finally going to get what I wanted. I then felt just a single finger slide into my dripping wet pussy. "I know you want more than this, slut," Chuck said.
"But you have to beg first." I did as he told me, and he began to finger fuck me faster and faster, sliding in a new finger every so often until he was finally finger fucking me with four fingers.
I was so close already, I was sure I would cum as soon as he finally shoved his cock inside me. But he just continued to tease me. "I know you want me to fuck you, slut. But I need to tell you something first." I couldn't take it much longer, I wanted to cum so badly, I couldn't even respond.
"Are you ready for me to fuck you, slut? Answer me." "Yes," was all I could say. "Yes, what?" Again I said only, "Yes," even though in my mind I knew what he wanted me to say. With his free hand he smacked my ass as hard as he could. "Yes, sir!" I finally exclaimed.
"Ok, slut, that's more like it. Now I'll fuck your slutty white cunt." I was so incredibly hot, never in my life had I felt the need to cum harder. And as soon as he stuck his huge black cock in me, I was going to. "Before I fuck you, let me tell you something." He started to laugh again.
"Your pathetic son wasn't jumped by two dudes. And I didn't save him." I immediately feared what he was going to say next. "I beat the shit out of your son and knocked him out cold. I kept beating on him even after he was out. Slammed his head into the pavement." I cannot even describe the emotions I felt at that exact moment. I would have hit Chuck immediately, if not for one thing.
He was still finger fucking the hell out of me, and I still wanted more than anything in the world, to cum. "Now, slut, beg me to fuck you, and I'll give you exactly what you want." I said nothing, too stunned to even think about speaking.
"Suit yourself," Chuck said, and he pulled his fingers out of me and pulled up his shorts. Tears welled up into my eyes.
I couldn't believe what I was about to say. "Please, sir, fuck me." "What was that, slut?" "Please stay and fuck me, sir." "No. I'll let you suck my cock again, but that's it." I hated him.
But I had to make him stay. I needed him to fuck me. "I will, thank you, sir." Chuck started to laugh again and he walked back up to me and threw me on my knees again. I took out his cock and begun to suck it again, this time more of a conventional blowjob, and none of the throat fucking as before. "So let me get this straight, slut. I'm less than one third your age. I tell you your tits are terrible.
I call you fat. I tell you your brownies are disgusting. I call you a slut over and over. I beat the shit out of your son. And you voluntarily suck my cock. And you're married to top it all off. How fucking stupid are you? You have to be the dumbest bitch I have ever met.
You are just a stupid, old, fat, slutty kike, aren't you?" I took his cock out of my mouth just long enough to say, "Yes, sir. I'm a stupid, old, fat, slutty kike." After another 15 or 20 minutes, I finally felt him swell up. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and came all over a few of the brownies on the floor.
"Every brownie that has even a drip of my cum on it, you eat it, ok, fatass?" I did exactly as he said, as he walked over to the couch next to my son, and sat down, still completely naked, and turned the tv on.
When I finished what I was told to do, I walked over to Chuck. "Ok, you got what you came here for. Can I take my son to the hospital now?" I could see my son was still lying still with his eyes shut tight. Chucked laughed again. "Don't worry, it hasn't been that long." "Yes it has," I said.
"How did you last that long anyway?" "I got my dick sucked earlier today before I came here," he replied. That made sense, because my husband always fucks me for much longer after I give him a blowjob. "Lucky girl," I joked. That grin came back to Chuck's face. He then walked up to Kyle, and punched him right in the face. "What the fuck?" I was astonished to hear my son speak. "You said if I kept quiet, you would leave me alone." "That was before I realized what an incredibly dumb slut your mom is, faggot." "Kyle, are you o." "Shut the fuck up slut," Chuck said while laughing yet again.
"Your faggot son is fine. He was unconscious for maybe 10 minutes out on the street, but he's been faking it as long as he's been here. Tell her everything, faggot." "Mom, every day for the past couple weeks Chuck has stopped me on my walk home from work and stolen whatever money I have on me. Sometimes he hurts me, sometimes he doesn't. And you know how you thought somebody broke into your car and stole your wallet that one time?
Well I just took it and gave it to him. I'm sorry." "Are you fucking kidding me Kyle? There was over 200 dollars in there, not to mention my personal information and all my credit cards.
And why did you even do this to him?" "Because his daddy is a racist fucking pig. You know the only reason your husband is a cop is to beat and arrest blacks, just like he did to my brother. So I decided to get a little payback with your son. But seeing those pictures on your IDs got me thinking of another plan. Thank god for that," said Chuck. "But don't interrupt him again, slut. Let him finish." "So today he told me he wanted to fuck you, and I got mad and for the first time I hit him.
Then that's when he started to hit me really hard and stuff." "Tell her what else I did to you, faggot." "He made me give him a blowjob." I wanted to be furious at Chuck. I wanted to call the police. But all I said was, "And I bet you enjoyed it to, didn't you Kyle." "No mom!
Why would you say that?" "Well you're such a fucking pussy. I wouldn't really be all that surprised if you were gay." "I'm not mom! Why are you being so mean to me? You should be mean to him!" "I'm 'being mean to you' because you are a grown man who let a child rob you over and over again, and then let him beat the shit out of you, and you sucked his cock. And to make it worse you…wait a minute. You were conscious the whole time!
You watched him grope me, and degrade me, and you watched me suck his cock, and you did nothing?" "He told me if I didn't he would kill me." By now, Kyle was crying hysterically, and Chuck was laughing uncontrollably. Between cackles, Chuck said to me, "Ok, bitch.
I've had my fun. Now it's your turn. I'm finally gonna let you get this cock you've been wanting so badly." A smile came to my face. "After all this, after all I've heard, you think I'm going to let you fuck me?" Chuck started to laugh again as I crawled towards him, and Kyle buried his face into the sofa. "You're gonna have to watch, faggot," I yelled to my pathetic son. And he did watch.
He watched as I sucked on Chuck's sweaty balls and worked his shaft to get him hard again. He then watched as I climbed up on top of Chuck and rode him for a good five minutes, cumming hard twice.
Then I got off, and Chuck got up and walked to the side of the couch. "Now, you can take your shirt off, slut." I did as he said, then he bent me over the couch and started fucking me just like that. As he grabbed hold of my hips and pounded into me harder and harder, my tits started bouncing more and more right in front on my pathetic son's face.
Chuck fucked me just like that for another five minutes, occasionally releasing my hips to grab a fistful of my hair. He got me to cum twice more. Eventually I felt him swell up inside me, and he filled my sloppy, wet pussy with his cum. "Clean me up, bitch," Chuck said as he pulled out of me. I got up to clean his cock off with my mouth when he stopped me.
"Not you," he said. I laughed as I looked at Kyle and saw him get the look like he was going to cry again. Then I grabbed him by the head and threw him towards Chuck so he could clean him off properly. As Chuck was walking out of the door, he turned his head around and looked at Kyle. He had just one more thing to say. "See you after work tomorrow."