tagIncest/TabooMaking My Point

Making My Point

byclinton09©

[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

[Rejected for work, ignored and abused, a young man gets a chance to get even with his tormentors. It involves four of the hottest MILF's in the country.]




My future was so clear and defined. I would make the smooth move from high school star middle linebacker to the NFL. All I needed was to get thru the 'Combine', which was the time trials and tests conducted by the NFL teams to get a 'feel' for who was worthy of being drafted and playing.

I had already impressed in the weight room, where I out-lifted any of those gargantuan wannabes who competed with me. The only thing left was the time trials.

I'll end the suspense: I was just a little too slow. In a league where defensive ends now had to drop back into coverage, I was regarded as a slug. Amazing that I could be varsity, letter, and all-state and yet graded by the pros as slow and useless.

Well, it was a bitter blow to me when I went undrafted on NFL Draft week. When I got no invitations to even try out, I knew it was the end.

All was not lost. My parents lived on a private island with three other families. My mom's 'old man' was one of four partners of a successful law firm whose main office was on the mainland. Surely, I could get a 'cushy' job from them....surely...

Well, I went, hat in hand, to apply for something/anything. Unfortunately, all of the four, including mom's 'old man', really resented me. It turns out that they didn't have the fun I had as a jock in high school. They now were living out some sort of 'Revenge of the Nerds' and wanted me to suffer big time.

I finally was hired, at minimum wage, as the janitor. I swallowed my pride and took the job. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that they went out of their way to make an unpleasant job 1,000 times worse. They even pulled pranks like having my check bounce, just for their amusement. Oh, they made it good later, but in the interim, my other checks turned up with 'insufficient funds'. They did this once a month.

One of them also set up a fake Facebook account for me; there were extensive photos of me in full janitorial regalia cleaning up one of the messes they intentionally created just for the occasion.

Unknown to the four little demons, I had already started a 'comeback' at work. Sick of being on the wrong end of practical jokes and derision, I took it upon myself to 'get to know' their secretary.

The four used one secretary, and let me tell you. If the beautiful Jennifer Anniston had had a twin, this secretary would've been her. To get that choice job, and to keep it, she wore dresses so short as to be imaginary in length. Her tanned shapely legs were never obscured by stockings; she normally padded around the carpeted office barefoot and beautiful. Like Ms. Anniston, her feet were gorgeous, perfect down to the ruby toenail polish and gold ankle bracelet. Like all the starlets in Hollywood, she sported a blue tattoo on her right ankle.

When this beleaguered janitor made some rueful comments about the tyrannical bosses, Yvonne(the secretary) added a few of her own. A few looks and smiles, and a date was set up. After a two-for-twenty dollar deal at Chili's and a Jennifer Anniston romantic-comedy (what else?), we ended up at her place in bed.

She was a sexual dynamo, a former gymnast who insisted on perfection in bed. With a quiet crash, the central support of her bed frame broke about midway thru our love session. With the mattress now at floor level, one could still see Yvonne making like Ginger Lynn...or like the piston in the most powerful engine...going up and down with incredible speed and power. Through all of this, she had shrieked in sexual release maybe four or five times.

I had reached the breaking point so when the next big 'O' came up for her, I grabbed her little dimpled behind and held tight. My bareback babymaker was forced into her like a sword. I felt tender tissues give way, stroking my sensitive cockhead along the way. It bumped into a knob and then settled into an alcove. I had no idea what it was, but Nature told me to release my seed there.

Still holding her with desperate force, my cock swelled with a purpose, my testes pulling tight against me. My swollen sack was awash in potent seed, the cum almost 94% sperm by medical testing. All of it was unleashed inside Yvonne in a torrent, a virtual hurricane of lust. Blast after blast of thick semi-opaque white liquid filled her up in seconds. Before we could finish a lingering kiss, excess cum was already dripping out, drooling down her Hollywood legs, making a mess.

After that incredible love session, I thought I would be her man, or at least her 'main man'. Well, as the song went, "she had legs, and she knew how to use them." I was just another conquest, another 'notch on her lipstick case.' All was not lost, though.

With her help, we set up some cameras in the executive washroom. Now Facebook would show our bosses in embarrassing shots, a fitting revenge over what they did to me. Amazingly, they never found out who set up that account or placed those cameras. Those four jokers were humiliated when they saw their nude likenesses splattered across the Wi-Fi universe.

Oh, yes, one other thing. Yvonne used the Pill and had had many evenings like the one that we shared...many. However, with that Pill, none of her evenings had ended like that one. Unknown to her or me, right after 2am and our last round of loving, Yvonne conceived. Given her frequency of such evenings, she never knew who had 'done the deed' and left it as a mystery.

One fateful Friday, I was called into the conference room. The four of them (much shorter than my six foot two frame and bald where I had shaggy locks) told me that if I acted as their 'butler' for a weekend junket with the wives, I could make an extra $20(!) I'm ashamed to admit that that was enough for me to agree.

So that is how it all went down. On their private little island, the four couples were partying in the redwood clubhouse. There was Esther, Constance, Chessie, and Sue (my mom.) Each one of them were 'trophy wives', MILF's who worked hard to marry well.

All of those women had perfect hairdo's (three bottle blonde, one bottle henna), big boobs (three had 'help' while my beautiful mother was 'all her' in those blouses ready to burst open), fantastic legs, etc. The women being isolated and together at all times now shared identical cycles.

They also shared the same dilemma: wanting to have babies, but having a 'problem'. In each of their cases, the 'problem' was a very fertile womb (theirs) matched up (by marriage) to a boyish-sized unit with a low sperm count (measured in thousands or even hundreds in one test result.)

I didn't realize it, but for years whenever any one of those hot wives entered a room, I would get hard...rock hard. Whenever my mother would enter a room, my steel hard ten inch cock would unleash gobs of pre-cum. They were walking 'wet dreams' and unconsciously, I was building up a desire to have them.

Even at the mildest gathering like Thanksgiving, I fantasized about bending the women over the huge oak dinner table, servicing them until they were begging me to not stop, 'never stop'. Right there, my fantasy continued, I'd fertilize each and every woman, right in front of their nasty, puny husbands. It was a forlorn hope, dream or fantasy that had no chance in reality.

The weekend went as you might expect. I had to run errands, take humiliation, tend tables, do dishes, etc. I was threatened with being fired over the slightest error. The four little punks were having a real field day. It was no surprise that I had to clean up while my beloved alma mater was playing on national TV. Then the storm came.

The big redwood building we were in had an atrium between two large family rooms. In one room, the men were watching football. In the room across the atrium, the women were playing bridge. I was in the main section (near the men), washing all the dishes.

The storm was upon us without any warning. The 'twister' walloped our little building. What it really did was collapse the side where the women were.

We heard calls for help almost instantly. I came out of the kitchen to see a strange display: on one side were women covered with boards, beams, and ceiling tiles, calling for help. On the other side (our side) were their four wimp husbands, standing idly by as if mesmerized into in-action.

I tried to rally the men but they stood in a group, cowering. Well, SOMEONE had to do something, so I started clearing a path thru the fallen atrium to the other side. The women watched in rapt attention as their 'hero' made his way thru a labyrinth of building material.

Later, contractors determined that I had lifted four and five hundred pound supports while I cleared the way. One by one, I carried those women in their (now) tattered clothing to the big sectional couch on the other (men's) side of the building where it was dry.

My gorgeous mother was the last one. As I carried each one to safety, they lay limply in my arms like the gorgeous Heather Locklear in the ending to 'Return of the Swamp Thing 2', with beautiful legs draped over one of my arms and their beautiful face on the other arm.

A strange paradigm shift had occurred. By my heroism and their wimpy husbands' total uselessness, the four women now regarded me as the MAN, the ONLY man, in that building.

Now the four elegant MILF's were stretched out across the wide expanse of the huge sectional sofa. Regaining their composure, Esther spoke for the group:

Esther: "Well, Jim, it appears that we came out here with only ONE man and not five. I think I speak for all of us when I say we're sorry we were silent as those four bald eunuchs made you do all of those demeaning little tasks. To make it up to YOU, OUR HERO, we'd like to know what we can do: a favor. Anything..."

I was stunned. I mean, up to that moment, the women had gone along with the parade of abuse. Now, seeing I was a 'super man' (compared to their pallid little gnome husbands) they realized that I and ONLY I was worthy of them. Well, there was ONLY one way to accept their offer AND get payback for all the months of crap I'd taken from those wimps.

Me: "Mom, are you and your friends on the Pill? Do you ever discuss those kinds of things between you?"

Mom: "If you must know, we all use diaphragms."

Me: "Great; that means we don't have to worry about lingering effects. Ladies, please remove diaphragms and give them to your little hubbies for safekeeping."

To my surprise, they actually obeyed. In dead silence, the women bent forward and removed something from inside them. Esther set the precedent by angrily throwing the metal device at her wimpy husband. She even plunked him on the forehead. The other three followed.

So, as I closed in aiming to transfer an ocean of vibrant active sperm into the fertile wombs of these healthy, future mothers, the only 'protection' that their husbands could have counted on were now strewn across the hardwood floor.

I didn't say a word. The women instantly understood. Right in front of the eyes of their impotent husbands, I walked up to the huge sectional sofa where the four trophy wives were lying.

I straightened them up and put them in line. Now, they were in a tight group, side-by-side, and four needing some serious loving. Their legs were up in the air, their gorgeous smooth feet dangling. Their legs were interlinked with the woman to their side.

Me: "Ladies, open yourself up. I want our audience of sissies to see what a REAL man can do with one powerful cock. I am going to splash my cum inside each of you and let your toy husbands watch as all of that sperm trickles inside of you."

They looked at each other, giggled like school girls, and then used their manicured socialite hands to widen the opening to their totally unprotected and (hopefully) fertile pussies.

I ripped off my clothes and flexed my huge twenty inch 'guns' as the MILF trophy wives cooed and applauded. My cock needed no further encouragement to attain its full ten inch splendor. I now stood before them, mountainous biceps, ten inch cock, and testes swollen to avocado size. I turned away from those babes and addressed our 'audience':

Me: "As you can see, I AM the alpha male here; the MAN. It's only right, only natural, that I get to breed the females. So just sit back and watch this young guy that you enjoyed pushing around service YOUR wives. Rest assured, whatever else we do today, I will make sure that my potent seed is safely deposited deeply inside your wife's fertile womb. Gentlemen, with apologies, I've got some work to do: it's baby-making time!"

What happened next was pure heaven, more dream than reality. The four trophy wives were on their backs, side-by-side, gorgeous shapely legs in the air, interlinked with the woman to their side.

I would bend over and make out with each one, caressing their plump breasts, tweaking a nipple, perhaps even locking my hungry mouth upon those erect, thumb-sized future milk nozzles. I was eliciting a lot of responses, too, mostly moans of pleasure from the women and gasps of horror from the wimpy husbands as they stood by in impotent rage.

My Mr. Johnson needed absolutely no help whatsoever in getting 'up' for these spectacular women. Still, I pulled up to the sofa and stood so that they could just barely reach my ten inches of manhood. I let all four give a yank or two to that rod of steel.

I then scampered onto that huge flat sofa, giving each woman in turn a chance to honor my manhood in a more 'intimate way'. The feeling of their warm mouths on it was just overwhelming. I had to struggle not to cut loose with all that hot lava that was boiling right below that titanium rod of mine.

The backed-up pressure was explosive; I had to release that ocean of sperm-laden cum or it would erupt in a gusher to rival 'old faithful'. After going down the row one last time for kisses, I stood up and barked to the obedient women to open themselves up again and get ready.

I keyholed my huge cock a final few times. Then I bent forward and made like a factory machine. Into each yawning chasm (held open as ordered by me, the alpha male), I splashed a huge wave of baby batter. I quickly went to the next open pussy. This continued as I went from woman to woman, in turn pumping out as much seed as I could possibly produce.

When I had finished 'splashing their gash' (each woman got about three splashes, making it an even dozen out of my mighty tool), I went back to the first woman on the left and plunged my cock in. I was pushing all of that baby-making sperm into the deepest recesses of their respective baby chambers. My lengthy tool was just long enough to push its way directly into their fertile wombs. This was repeated three glorious times.

Exhausted and spent, I turned to see my 'appreciative audience' of husbands. They all looked pale and sickly. I couldn't blame them. They had had a soft and easy existence, their lives complete with incredibly hot babes for wives.

Then this punk kid (yours truly) came around, taking a barrage of abuse from them. They thought that arrangement would never end, but that stud finally 'strutted his stuff'. Eventually he ended up plowing his gigantic unit (uncut and bareback) into the unprotected chambers of those wives.

Now they gazed upon the open maws of their wives' sacred gateways to heaven. Each one of their wives sported a 'crème pie'; a thick mass of frothy goo was drooling out their well-fucked sperm-filled pussies and was oozing down one or both of their glistening thighs. The hardwood floor now had slippery puddles of love liquids beneath each gorgeous trophy wife.

The odds of the women, in whole or part, actually getting pregnant by me were not good. So, it was with great surprise, and more than a little satisfaction, to receive calls some weeks later. All three of mom's friends were in the family way. All three thought that the 'favor' they promised me after the storm would only be legit if they went ahead and gave birth. And so they all agreed. I couldn't wait to tell my mother.

Me: "Guess what mom? In the best act of revenge in history, I knocked up not one or two, but all three of your friends!"

Mom: "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, stud boy, but I heard that too and rushed over to our OB-GYN; she said I'm incredibly fertile and 100% not pregnant!"

My mother and I sparred for almost ninety minutes. She told me that the other women were one thing; being my mother, she'd have no choice but to 'get rid' of any baby of mine. I asked, then begged her to re-consider. She said 'no' with a wan smile, knowing that she was still 'in control'.

It should've been enough for me to have three beautiful wives under my thumb, but it wasn't. My mother was another trophy wife, to me the ultimate. I had to do something or I'd always wonder what might have been.

Without taking the time to think, I ripped open mom's dress, lifting her up by her waist and tossing her onto her bed like a rag doll. She was about to scamper off when I pointed to the middle of the bed, commanding her to remain at that exact spot. She did.

My clothes were history in seconds and within less than a minute, my hard cock was joined up to a sopping pussy. Whether she wanted my baby or not, I had to give my supersexy mother a thorough breeding to let her know 'the score'.

My ten inch baby-maker rubbed raw her sensitive vaginal walls; they pulsated, tingled with sensation as the raw, uncut, oversized cockhead of yours truly sawed away in there. When my lengthy ramrod lightly touched her innermost reaches, she moaned in ecstasy.

I was a breeding machine, moving at blinding speed. My gorgeous mom was beneath me, her fertile womb totally unprotected and welcoming. I had a manly duty to fill it with an ocean of potent seed and I wouldn't stop until I'd 'got her done'.

I was careful to hold back until mom had five...no six...very vocal orgasms before I pumped my manly semen inside of her, washing her cervical area in a sea of milky cum teeming with 94% pure sperm. If she wasn't already pregnant, this surely would do the job leaving no doubt whatsoever.

Mom had basically challenged me when she said that she alone was the sole 'intact' member of her gang of four MILF's. I took up that challenge; against her objections, I insisted that we make love the entire night. I came in mom some seven times. In the end most of it was unnecessary anyway; my mother conceived after the second round of loving.

Talk about 'turning the tables'; from that moment forward, the four ladies laid down the law at home. Henceforth, they would occasionally entertain male visitors. [Note: 'male visitors' equalled: me.] If that 'entertainment' led to pregnancy, they (the wimp husbands) would have to foot the bill and tell everyone that those were THEIR babies.

The four diminutive husbands were not allowed to complain. Some Sundays, they'd be watching football. I would pull up a chair to watch, too. Then their supersexy wife would slink out in only a robe. With a moan and a squish, they would drag their wet pussies down my chest and lock lips together in a French kiss.

We would make love right there in front of the football game while their pathetic husbands could only wince and pretend to watch the game too. I tell you it was a great set-up. Imagine being a dinner guest and, on a whim, in the middle of dinner, just grabbing the hostess. Often I would tear open a blouse, rip open one whole side of the nursing bra, and suckle mother's milk while the little 'man of the house' watched in muted rage.

If those bald-headed trolls wanted this to stop, then their wives would sue for divorce. If all four wives left, taking all their socialite friends too, the four men's legal practice would consist of DUI's and fixing speeding tickets. So, they were stuck.

Report Story

byclinton09© 0 comments/ 169241 views/ 29 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel