My Sons Bully

I fidgeted impatiently and checked the time again. Yesterday my son had come home bruised and bloody. After some coaxing he had admitted he was being bullied, almost daily, by one of his classmates, Klay. I was about to call the school, when he told me that he had already tried that and they wouldn't do anything without hard proof. Klay was a star athlete on the football, basketball, baseball, and hockey teams and the school was desperate to keep him playing. I had then called his home, hoping to speak to his mother, who would surely understand my plight. Instead the phone had been answered by the deep, gruff voice belonging to Bruce, Klay's father. He said happy to meet and talk with me, and agreed to come over the following night at six. It was 6:15 now, so I waited, nervously.

I was unsure why I nervous, in general I was a confident women. I ran a successful medical research firm, and had invested my money well. I ended being quite well off despite becoming a single mother at the age of 15. Alvin, who was upstairs in his room playing video games as always, was walking-talking proof that you could become pregnant your first time. Perhaps that was something to do with that side of things that was making me nervous. Ever since Alvin's father had run off at the first sight of a positive pregnancy test, there had been little else in the man department for me. I had one serious boyfriend for a while until he came out of the closet, but besides that brief relationship I had been alone. I could count on my fingers how many times I had had sex. I was still nervous dealing with men outside of the business world, especially if they were attractive. And Bruce had sounded attractive. While it was just a voice, his husky tones had a rich masculine quality to them.

I decided to pour a glass of wine, a nice sturdy red, as I looked over my appearance. I was still in my work clothes, a nice blouse with a pencil skirt, leggings and high-heels. My body was still quite nice at 33. I had large, full breasts that had yet to sag. My waist was still slim, my legs nice and long, and my ass was round and supple. My face matched my body: high cheekbones, plump juicy lips, and large blue eyes to match my blonde hair. I decided that I looked good enough as I poured myself a more wine; despite the fact I could feel the first one. I was halfway through my second glass when the knock on the door came.

To my surprise, it was not Bruce who walked through the door, but Klay. He was huge. He had broad shoulders and strong jaw. He was well built, I could see the muscles bulging through his t-shirt and although he had the slight smell of sweat, it was not unpleasant. He had thick stubble on his face. His eyes were a piercing blue. He was handsome, devastatingly so. I found myself staring a little, as he brushed past me. I quickly recovered, but I could tell he noticed my stare.

"My dad said you wanted to talk to me," he questioned.

"I thought it would be him coming," I asked back. He just shook his head, leaning against the wall.

"Okay then, do you want anything? To drink, I mean. We have water, soda, or milk." I managed to stammer out. "Or wine," I quickly added, remembering the class in my hand before realizing I shouldn't have offered that. I took a drink, head buzzing, and cursed myself for being so awkward. All it took was one good-looking man and I fell to pieces. A smirk crossed his face, and mine burned red. He was stareing to, looking at my directly at my breasts. I felt my heart-rate quicken and I twirled my hair nervously.

"Do you have any beer?" I shook my head, cursing myself again wishing I had some to offer him. "Nothing then." He had not stopped staring and I was starting to sweat. I coughed, but he kept staring. I felt unnerved and objectified, but a small part of my mind was glad he found me pleasing to stare at. I could feel my vagina moisten. The silence was building, and while he seemed fine, I was starting to feel awkward.

"So, I, um, wanted to talk to you about my son. It has come to my attention that you, um, have been beating my son up. I think this unacceptable for seniors in high school."

"Let me save some time and cut to the chase," he cut me off. I stopped talking to listen. "Your son is a pussy."

"How dare you ...," I gasped. He rose to his feet and stepped towards me. He towered a full foot over my 5'4" frame. I gulped nervously.

"If your son could defend himself, this wouldn't be happening. He's weak and he can't fight. The strong will always do what they want with the weak. Maybe someday he'll make a lot of money, he can pay not to be pushed around. Till that day, he's just one more weak person. I am a strong person so I do what I please." He took another step towards me. I was frozen. "You don't have a man around, it obvious by how easy it is to tell you need to be fucked."

"How dare," I started indignantly, but he talked over her.

"Don't pretend for your reputation. No one else is here. I know it, and you definitely know it. Your cunt's dripping, isn't it?" I didn't answer, shocked by his rude language, but he was right. He laughed at my silence, and my face reddened. "My dad could tell on the phone, that's the only reason I came. When I showed up, I was sure. Anyway, your son needs a man around. No wonder he's such a pussy. If you want him to stop get beat up, sign him up for a self-defense class. Hell, maybe I'll teach him myself, if I find you enjoyable enough for it to be worth my time."

"You are an animal," I screamed.

"If you truly believe I'm wrong, I'll go," he said, raising his hands to stop my oncoming tirade. "I'll even take it easy on your son. But if I go I'm not coming back. And we both know you don't want that. We also both know that you know I'm right. Your son is a pussy, and the strong will take what they want. You and your son are the weak. Your son physically, but you in your convictions. I will take what I want from you. I'm is physically stronger than your son, so I will do what I want to him. You know what I want, and I'll take it because you are weak mentally. Unless, of course, you are strong, in which case tell me to leave." The silence that filled the room was immediate and deafening. My mind was racing. He was an asshole, and I wanted my son not get beat up, but my desire burned. I was soaked. I wanted badly to prove him wrong, to ask him to leave, but could not make myself.

"Well, should I go?" He was smirking widely now. I moved head a miniscule amount, the smallest of shakes.

"What was that?" He put his hands on my shoulders. His grip was strong. I shook my head fully. He smiled and grabbed my blouse. He pulled hard and it ripped open, buttons popping. My bra was next, torn in half in his hands.

"My clothes," I protested. He paid me no mind. His hands groped my boobs. He squeezed them violently and pulled on my nipples, twisting roughly. I moaned. One hand gripped the waist of my skirt and my panties, and then they were off, ripped as well. I didn't care. His rough treatment of my breasts was consuming my mind. He brought his hands back up to my shoulder and pushed me to my knees roughly. He did not need to ask me to do anything. Even I was not sure of what I was doing, but my hands worked faster than my mind. I had never been in this position before, but instinct was taking over. I pulled his belt, releasing it. His fly was next, and I pulled his pants down, then his underwear. His penis sprang free.

"Oh my god," I gasped. It was truly magnificent. Its length was impressive and it was expansively wide, with a bulbous head as big as an apple. Veins burst out of it. His balls hung below, each as large as limes. Desire and fear bubbled with in me. "How big is it," I wondered in awe.

"12 inches long and 8 in circumference. Get to work." I did as I was told, opening wide. The head stretched my mouth, but I managed to open wide enough. I tried to bob my head, but the tip bumped against my throat before the whole head was in my mouth. I pulled back. There was an audible pop as my lips released. He looked down at me, anger clear on his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know if it will fit. I don't know what I'm doing. I've never done this before," I apologized frantically.

"It will fit. It better. If it doesn't, the deal is off. And if I feel any teeth, tomorrow you son won't have any. This your place now, so you better learn what to do. And you better learn quickly." I opened my mouth, and took him back in. I racked my brain, trying to think of everything I knew about how to give head. I knew tongue was important. I could still only take his tip, but I started to swirl my tongue around him. He grunted in appreciation. I could feel my cheeks stretching. They were already starting to get sore, and I was struggling to keep my teeth off his girth. I didn't want to stop though. His cock tasted so good. I swirled my tongue more, pulling him further in. I felt right like this, on knees serving him. He had been right; I was his to take. This was my place.

I started to bob my head, trying to take more of him. I had handled his width, even though it took all I had to fit him in my mouth, but his length still seemed impossible. He was brushing up against my throat, and I still had so much more to go. His hand clamped down on my head. He pulled my head towards him, forcing more of himself into my mouth. His cock pushed hard against my throat. It resisted. He started to buck his hips. Each thrust was more vigorous than the last. The tip entered my throat, stretching it roughly. He was enjoying it though. The new sensation sent him into a frenzy. His hands were clamps on my head, holding me in place as he fucked my mouth. Each brutal thrust forced more of his cock down into throat. I was gagging loudly. My eyes watered and tears dripped out, but Klay kept up his ferocious pace. He was breathing loudly now and grunting, enjoying the feeling of my mouth around him.

I was enjoying it too. It had felt good to please him and to serve him, but to be used felt better. Physically it hurt, but being treated this way turned me on. I was wet, really wet. I could feel myself drip. I was his toy and it felt right. I started swirling my tongue as he hammered himself down my tiny throat. I reached down, and started to masturbate. It was clumsy, but my fingers felt so good. I had over half his cock in my mouth now and he kept hammering away, driving more of his stake in. It was getting hard to breathe. His hips were swinging forcefully. Only a few inches remained to go. I tried to stretch my mouth and throat, desperate to take all of him. My pussy was burning, fingers frantically rubbing my clit. His hands clamped hard on the back my hand. I couldn't breathe. Didn't matter. Needed more of him. He pushed me down. Darkness was creeping into the corner of vision. The last of his cock rammed into my mouth. His swollen balls slapped against my chin. A wave of pleasure exploded from my cunt. My hand was soaked. My body quivered, the orgasm coursing through me.

"Cumming from sucking a dick, you really are a slut," he mocked.

"Yes, sir. Your slut." I replied, but his plunging spike muffled my words. I was struggling to get air in-between thrusts, but even when was pulling out there was still at least an inch in my throat. I was dizzy. He was driving harder. Sweat was dripping off of him onto my face. His balls thumped on my chin. Suddenly he thrust all the way in. I gagged and tried to pull back. His hands clamped down, holding me in place. I felt his cock thicken, ripping my throat. He let out a grunt and came. His cum was thick and brackish, but I loved it. It seemed to pour out of him, dumping down my throat. I was trying to swallow it all, I know men like that, but there was too much. It filled my mouth. He pulled out as I gulped desperately. He was somehow still cumming. A thick wad fell on my forehead. Another one covered my cheek, and one shot into my eye. Each glob was the size of another mans entire orgasm. He was jerking his cock roughly. A copious jet shot into my hair. I opened my mouth for him. He angled his cock down, and filled with two quick discharges. I swallowed and he shot another against my lips. He slowed his masturbating and dumped two final loads on my chest and sitting down.

Without thinking I started collecting cum with my fingers and sucking it off. My stomach was already turning from his massive load, but I couldn't help myself. I needed more of him.

"Clean me off, whore." His order snapped me back to reality. It was jarring, seeing a handsome man sitting in my son's spot in our living room with his pants around his ankle. He was drinking from the wine bottle. His cock had softened, but it was still the biggest I had seen, probably eight inches long and just as thick. And it did look like it needed to be cleaned. It was covered in saliva, phlegm and cum.

"Yes, master," I crawled over to him on my hands and knees. I gently took him in my hands and started to lightly lick around. He tasted so good. His musk was driving me crazy. His cock was clean, but I kept swirling my tongue. His flesh was still soft, but it was rapidly hardening.

He pushed me roughly onto my back. He kneeled over me and went in for a kiss. His lips were electric. His stubble scratched my cheek. I reached down a wrapped a hand around his cock. I could hold half of it. He roughly bit my bottom lip. My cunt gushed and I moaned. I was loving his abuse. Precum was leaking from him. It coated my hand, leaking between my fingers. If he hadn't still been hard, I would have swore he came.

"Do we need a condom?" I asked. I was scared. He had probably fucked a ton of women and I didn't want to catch anything. He laughed. He reared his hand back and slapped me. I whimpered, shocked from the pain. He had put no effort behind it, but it still was a powerful blow. As I recoiled he spit a thick phlegmy loogie into my face. It reeked off tobacco and wine. I moaned, inflamed by his abuse. Why did I want this?

"No condom," he smirked, mocking my arousal. He pushed forward, aligning his cockhead with my slit. He reared his hip back and slammed forward. His first thrust smashed six inches into me. His width alone caused me to scream, stretching me to my widest. He continued to brutally jackhammer into me, forcing more of his spear into me. My eyes were bugging out of my head. He was splittling me. I was in agony. Tears welled from my eyes. If I hadn't been so well lubricated he would have ripped my vagina in two. He leaned back so he was sitting on his feet as he knelt. My breast bounced up and down with the force of his thrusts. He turned his abuse to them, squeezing, twisting, slapping and pulling. The pain was subsiding slowly. Each thrust brought more pleasure. He pulled at my nipples. I could feel something deep in me. He battered my cervix. Pleasure was mounting. Moans poured from my lips. I could feel my orgasm mounting. I raised my legs, trying to tighten for him. Pain returned, but he grunted. I was pleasing him. My eyes rolled back. Then it happened.

I saw Alvin. He was standing on the stairs, staring. His mouth hung open, tears poured from him silently. I could tell he wanted to do something, but he was frozen. I wanted to stop, to comfort him but I couldn't. I couldn't tear myself away from this cock. Pleasing Klay mattered more than my son, I realized. Another part of me died, leaving more room for the whore. Klay also noticed and he laughed.

"What a little pussy." Alvin turned to run, sobbing. "Stop," Klay bellowed, not stopping his onslaught on my cunt, "You get down here and watch this. You're a weak little bitch, and so is your mother. So you watch what happens to people like you. Get over here and sit down." Klay released my tit to point at the chair. Alvin turned, slowly. He walked dragging his feet, shaking with rage and fear and disgust. I quivered, this was turning me on. Klay's total domination of not only me, but of my entire family filled me with lust for him. I was going to come. I felt the first pulsating wave wash over me. A torrent of fluid poured from pussy, coating his still pounding rod. I was screaming. My legs were shaking violently. Eyes rolled back. Nipples were roughly twisted and pulled and my mind melted. I slowly descended back to reality. Klay was still a brutal piston. His sweat was dripping. I couldn't feel my legs. Alvin was sobbing. I felt another wave. This time I couldn't scream. Couldn't see. Felt numb and blissful. My cunt was rippling. A geyser of fluid shot from me.

"A fucking squirter. What a little whore your mom is," Klay said to Alvin. He had an evil grin on his face. He pulled his cock out. I whimpered, missing it.

"Holy shit," Alvin whimpered with me. He stared at Klay's majestic cock, which shown in the fine sheen of my cum.

"You like that you, little faggot? Something besides being a fucking wimp runs in the family. Get on top of me bitch," he said. I rose, and straddled him. He slapped me hard, turning my head with the force.

"Turn the fuck around slut," he ordered as slapped my tits with the other hand. A big red mark showed on them. I turned hurriedly, rushing to obey. My hand gripped him, positioning him. I gently eased on to him. He gave me sharp spank and thrust up. From this new angle it was like the first time again. Pain shot through my body. Gravity did nothing to diminish his power, and each thrust was more violent than the one before it. Harsh spanks began to fall. Tears were leaking from my eyes. This time the pain did not last long. I started to ride him with gusto, matching his thrusting. I rolled my hips. His vicious slaps stung, but each spanking made me wetter. I felt an orgasm bubbling.

"Lean back," he ordered, accenting with a ferocious spank. I quickly obeyed. He was able to thrust deeper. He pushed well past my cervix. I moaned. From this position I could not avoid looking at Alvin. He was heart broken. Tears dripped from eyes and his nose was running. He was also erect. The smallest lump in sweat pants showed, but it was evident. He had a boner, and he had a really small dick.

"Rub your clit," Klay's sharp words snapped me back to my real task, pleasing my new master. My fingers quickly found my slit and rubbed vigorously. That made cumming unavoidable. Within seconds I was writhing, another orgasm upon me. A quick jet of my squirt flew out hit Alvin in the face. Klay cackled. I didn't care. I knew should but I didn't. The mother in me was too far-gone. I just rubbed harder, forcing myself into another orgasm.

Klay's next thrust sent me off his cock. I landed on my ass hard. He quickly rolled. His left hand shot to my cunt, roughly thrusting three fingers in. His right hand slapped my face, before gripping tightly around my throat.

"What are you?" He demanded.

"I'm your whore," I answered, all too happy to give him what he wanted.

"What are you?" His grip tightened around my neck.

"I'm your whore," as my grip tightened on his fingers.

"What are you?" He squeezed.

"I'm your whore, your slut, your fucktoy, whatever you want," I choked out. My face was blue.

"Damn right," his fingers roughly pulled out and he slapped his hand down right on my clit. I came, legs shaking, pussy squirting, as he squeezed the life out of my neck. He released. In a second my mouth was around his manhood. I needed it. I plunged up and down recklessly, deep throating him. His precum was heaven. I was slurping, gagging. My tits clapped as I sucked desperately. He laughed at my display of wantonness.

"Ride me again," he said, laying back down. This time he was gentle, slowly fucking me. He pulled my head to him, kissing me passionately on the lips. I exploded, his tenderness after roughness forcing yet another orgasm. Then he started pounding away. My cunt was sore, but it felt so good. His vigor forced me to raise myself up, but he still filled all of me. I came again. The waves kept coming one after another. I was worn out, but couldn't stop. He pushed me over, forcing doggy style. I always hated doggy style, it was so demeaning.