A Triumph of Willbyclinton09©
[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
[Son gets roped into helping inseminate mom for a greedy dad desperate for an heir. His family trust required it.]
My name is James and this is my story. By the time I reached age 18, I was having a ball (literally.) I had hot and cold running girlfriends and even an occasional teacher on the side. On most weekends, I was making more 'cream-pies' than the local bakery.
I was never so proud as when, one day, I happened to go to Toys 'R Us looking for a video game on sale. Attached was the store Babies 'R Us.
There, shopping for maternity wear and infant clothes were three eighteen year olds: two blonde cheerleaders, one brunette gymnast, plus one hot soccer mom/substitute teacher. All of them had swollen bellies containing a fetus (or two) created by yours truly.
I had never 'done the deed' before I turned 18, but it all started when I was 14. My mom gave me a weight set for my birthday. She told me to NOT be like my dad and 'let myself go' but to always be in top shape, looking for 'action'. I would never forget it; she kissed me. She'd kissed me before, but this kiss lasted a full minute.
She then told me something from years back: Mom and her BFF were looking me over in the maternity ward observation room.
They saw me take a toy from another baby boy in the next crib. When the nurse came along to return it, she couldn't pry it loose. She had to call another nurse; after a struggle of ten minutes, the two of them got the toy back.
Mom's BFF said, "Wow, that's one strong, virile baby!" Then she noticed something that was peeping out of my clothing, drooping down like a small elephant's trunk.
She gave my mom the elbow and pointed it out. They both gasped. Mom's friend said: "Speaking of virility, my God, you don't think, I mean it can't be...it just can't..." (Well, it WAS, thank you.)
After regaling me with this story, mom stared into my eyes and then left the room. I was stunned for a moment.
Well, I took her advice and would lift weights and other things. By the age of 18, I had an incredible physique that led to the 'fun and games' I wrote about above.
Even mom would occasionally watch my outdoor workouts from the kitchen. Little did I know that her nipples popped as she did. By the end of my workouts, I'd be gasping for breath as was mom; her nipples would be fully erect, her pussy sopping wet.
If only I had known: I could have sat in the kitchen and my deliriously sexy mommy would've sauntered over and placed the slavering lips of that treasured pussy over my uncut rough cockhead.
I could just imagine her sliding down upon it till she hit bottom. My youthful but powerful arms would've gripped her bum and used her like I was jacking it.
At the climactic moment, mom would've looked to the ceiling, moaning in orgasmic ecstasy as my youthful, innocent cock swelled with power before unleashing a hurricane of cum inside of her.
Just after that, she would've dropped into my lap like a spent rag doll. Our lips would have met in a passionate kiss before she embraced me. Trying to recover, she would've whispered something into my ear.
It might have been how much bigger I was than her 'old man', or maybe that we 'shouldn't have done that; I'm not on the pill, you know.'
Well, it was good that I didn't think of that; I don't think my dad would've understood me having to take mom to Babies 'R Us to shop for maternity fashions.
I always wondered why my parents stayed together. My dad had been (I am told) a good looking guy when they wed years ago. Then it happened: he lost his hair. Almost overnight, he lost 95% of his hair and with it his confidence, bravado, and potency.
Later mom would tell me that old fossil's thing was no longer four inches but now a soft and constant two inches. My magnificent ten inches of manhood far exceeded mom's old man's 'doodle' even when mine was relaxed. I never had the heart to tell her that I had him beat when I was nine years old (or even before that.)
The reason why my parents stayed together was also the reason for the events that were to transpire: a trust and a will.
Mom knew if she divorced the increasingly decrepit and useless 'old man' that she'd be cut out of any subsequent inheritance from pop's wealthy family. Her attitude was that she had suffered for this long, so why not hang in there till the big payoff.
That was where the twist came in. Mom's 'old man' dragged her to the reading of the will. The last family leader put in the document that mom's 'old man' would get the whole estate, some $20 million (!), IF AND ONLY IF he created an heir and named it Robert Francois, the given name of that last family don.
Talk about distrust, the will insisted that the child be genuine, genetically from the family, and not adopted or from a non-family member. To that end, the child, upon birth, would have DNA matches done; then, and only then, would the law firm be authorized and directed to release funds.
This all led to quite a contrast on one weekend night. In my little bedroom, which was an attachment to the garage, I was balling my English teacher. She was a 37 year old soccer mom.
Red hair, green eyes, she had a statuesque figure like those giants from Las Vegas revues. I was drilling her soundly, MILF or not, married or not. My ten inch cock was eliciting a sigh, a moan, a gasp, and then a protracted scream.
Finally, I tapped against her cervix, my cockhead lodged deeply inside of her. I had promised to pull out, as I always did. I then hoped that she'd get second thoughts, which they usually did. Sure enough, I felt her legs envelope me and her ankles lock around my thrusting hips. That was my signal and I came with fierce intensity.
As I swooned, my lips brushing gently her pliant lips, we came together, a simultaneous phenomenon. All the while, my cock was pumping white-hot liquid relentlessly.
As always, I didn't care if she was married, wealthy, or anything else; I just wanted to put my seed into a warm, tight place where it could perform its pollination trick.
While I was scoring big time, in the main house my parents were trying to pull off a miracle. It was truly pathetic, as mom's bald 'old man' was totally impotent.
Later mom would tell me he'd had just enough to do the job before she got pregnant with me. Then, the 'bald thing' happened and his production went from less than normal to a few drips and drops. That descended even further to the point he was as dry as the Sahara.
That night resulted in getting that hot teacher of mine knocked up, wonderfully pregnant. In keeping with my stroke of luck, she was the fourteenth babe (the fourth married one) to have to shop for baby clothes courtesy of me.
Like the other three married hotties, she'd fool her husband into thinking it was his. Thank heavens! It was clear that the other married babes realized that suing me for support would be a waste of legal fees.
I guess it was kind of mean of me, but I visited another sexy teacher that I had put in the family way some months before. I explained to her husband at the door that I was an old student of hers. I said I had heard about the baby from the class president and just wanted to give a 'baby shower' gift to my teacher advisor.
He was surprised but let me in. Helen was shocked that I had come over and boldly introduced myself to her short, stocky, county clerk hubby. We started talking.
All of a sudden and without warning, he said a few curse words and then headed out to the sports bar to watch the game just starting.
When I heard him slam the car door and drive away, my old 'squeeze' slapped me on the cheek, hard. I grabbed her by the arm and kissed her. She struggled for a second and then melted in my arms. We made out passionately for a long, long time.
She asked why I was there and I told her that I DID want to give her a baby shower present. I brought over three pregnancy outfits. She thanked me profusely and we kissed again. Helen started putting them away when I stopped her.
Me: "Wait, you don't understand. I want to see them on you. I mean, those are from Frederick's of Hollywood and I wasn't sure about the size. Can you, well, humor me?"
She smiled and nodded. She told me to 'turn around'. I did..I always wanted to do this, so I did. I turned 360 degrees and ended up staring at her. She thought that was cute and stopped demanding me to turn away.
She undid her eight months pregnant clothes, which were just her normal clothes she adapted, her husband too cheap to get her nice things. The first outfit went on. The bottoms fit around her still firm, trim hips, right below the beautiful baby bump.
She caressed the bulge with two loving hands...I rushed over and kissed that temple of reproduction before kissing her and returning to my seat. She then removed her overstuffed bra. I gasped as her breasts were, well, somehow both enormous and gorgeous.
But most of all, they were big...God, so very big. As she tried to close the top, it just wouldn't reach. Her struggles got me so excited...she was too big up top. After a few moments of her trying, I said:
Me: "Let's face it; it won't fit. I guess I wasted money on that one; lingerie is not returnable. I am so sorry."
Helen said it wasn't my fault; how could I know her size. She felt bad about that and hugged me, thanking me for the effort and asking me if there was anything she could give me?
Well, she was still standing there topless, so I stroked her amazing boobs, licking my lips. To my delight, she offered her breastmilk, which had arrived early.
With a smash of my tongue and tug of my lips I was soon suckling like an experienced (infant). The warmth and sweetness of that heavenly milk, like melted French vanilla, overwhelmed my senses.
We both were so into it that we didn't notice that we were being watched. It turns out the game was an early rout, so her useless hubby had come back home. Now he found his lissome, hot wife breastfeeding some old student. What was THAT all about?
Immediately, my favorite pregnant teacher started this wild story that I had a condition that could only be cured by mother's milk. It was so absurd that I stopped her.
Me: "The truth is I knocked up your beautiful wife. Apparently, you were not up to the task of satisfying her and I was. Why don't you just accept it and forget what you saw here today."
Not surprisingly, that wasn't his first choice on how to handle this. As his lovely pregnant wife looked on, he went berserk and charged me.
He was maybe five foot five to my six foot four; he laid into me with punches to the old 'bread basket'. I was ready for that. He stopped when he realized he was just hurting his hands. I picked him up and lectured him:
Me: "Little man, your three choices are: 1-continue to take credit for the babies (twins) in that beautiful swollen tummy over there, maintaining your standing among your friends...OR...2-you can divorce and abandon this lady, with the true facts coming out for everyone to hear."
"Given the odds of you finding someone even remotely this hot, I think I'd recommend choice number one. Of course there's always choice number 3 (I put him down and showed him my right bicep, 21 inches round of solid steel; his wife cooed and cheered); I don't think either of us want to resort to that!"
He literally shook in his boots. He looked at her, then me (in particular the mighty arms that just held him up like a GI-Joe Doll) and slinked off into the other room, defeated. After that little confrontation, he never said anything to Helen about our tryst. In fact, I never heard back from them.
Getting back to that night where I knocked up the other teacher while my parents failed miserably at the old 'in/out in/out': The OTHER thing that resulted from that night was a fateful decision.
After an hour of them trying and failing to have a modicum of intercourse, my parents retired to their respective bedrooms. Within a half hour, mom's 'old man' was knocking on her door.
Pa: "I know you aren't going to like this, nor will he. My thinking is that DNA would confirm the lineal ties to that new heir whether it was made by me...OR MY SON. The thought of involving him, frankly, makes me ill. I hate the little bastard of yours, especially because he's always scoring some hot babe and doing her brains out in his little fiefdom out there."
Pa: "On the other hand, since we are desperate to make an heir, and need one started within 30 days, I think we might find use for that musclebound freak with his grotesquely oversized tool. I was afraid to tell you: years ago, that monstrous thing of his ripped the bathing suit and supporter that I lent to him...when he was 15!"
Mom turned away from him. Licking her lips, she didn't want to let him see that this idea was a dream-come-true for her. She'd watched me develop over the years, my burgeoning musculature making her excited more than once.
The idea of that oversized unit of mine servicing her, with the full intention of putting her in the family way, was scandalous, shameful, and damn exciting.
HER HEAD SPINNING, MOM FLASHED BACK TO TWO INCIDENTS FROM THE PAST WHERE SHE HAD BEEN CONFRONTED WITH HER STUDLY SON'S UNMISTAKABLE 'PHYSICAL ABILITIES' AND THE BEDROOM ANTICS THAT ENSUED"
Unknown to me, or her useless hubby for that matter, months before mom had become consumed wondering what DID go on in my little room with that endless line of female 'visitors'. Mom remembered something from years back and ran to the attic. Sure enough, there it was: a baby monitor.
When I was out, she secreted the monitor in my room. Thereafter on any date nights when her useless hubby was out on an errand, she'd listen in to the 'goings on'.
What she did as she heard the moans of pleasure coming from my 'house guests' I don't know; I did see once that mom had a 'little friend' in the drawer by her bed. Mom was always too embarrassed to tell me, even years later. She did make me pick up batteries though, until I bought her a battery recharger.
Another recollection: my gorgeous mom was at the tiny local hospital picking up some medicine for her fragile hubby when she chanced upon meeting me.
Mom: "Jim, what in the world are you doing here?"
Me: "To be honest, I wanted to see the babies in the maternity ward observation room. I remember that wild night on my 18th birthday when I went from a party to another party and then hung out with six high school senior girls having their last sleepover."
Me: "I pumped a lot of seed into a lot of tight pussy..oops, sorry mom...I had relations with some wonderful women after a proper period of getting to know them. Anyway, I wondered if any of them had gotten knocked up. With this being nine months later, I just had to come and see."
I grabbed mom's hand (her other hand holding the prescription) and dragged her into the elevator to the third floor. There they were in the tiny observation room: ten babies.
Mom: "Are ALL of those yours!?"
I shook my head, guessing they weren't. Just then, mom remembered that she had made a list of the people that were allowed to get thru to me if mom received a call, e-mail, or message. The list had eight (over 18 year old) girls and two adult teachers' names. Mom called them off and I eventually linked every baby to a name on that honor list.
All ten: every one of the babies in that tiny hospital was my doing. When mom realized that, I noticed her nipples had erected, poking thru the filmy white blouse she wore. Her yellow slacks had an embarrassing damp spot too. She kissed me fiercely, and then broke it off just as abruptly. She whispered to me:
Mom: "If this was a hospital in another city, and I wasn't worried about risking a $20 million inheritance, I would drag you into one of these semi-private rooms and perform a complete 'spermectomy'...removing every sperm in those family jewels of yours." [We kissed again briefly then left.]
MOM THOUGHT BACK TO THE HOSPITAL BABY BOOM AND THE BABY MONITOR PEEPING INCIDENTS AS SHE WAS IN SHOCK OVER THE SUGGESTION BY HER 'OLD MAN' THAT HER TREASURED SON WAS NOW ALLOWED, EVEN ENCOURAGED, TO MATE WITH HER.
To think that her son's powerful ten inch long babymaker, the talk of the town at the beauty parlor, would be making a special guest appearance in her fertile womb was more than she could take. With a muted nod, smile, and thumbs up, mom gave her approval to start the ball rolling to found the 'Mother and son Baby Factory, Inc.'
At first, he had the reasonable expectation of making a baby in a clinical fashion. I always wondered about other stories, real or fiction, where infertile couples wanting a child would have the wife sleep with another guy. Insemination didn't require that, only stupidity.
Sure enough, mom's 'old man' told me of their needs for a child and then ordered me to fill up a beaker with my 'essence'. It was his intention to 'do the honors' of injecting it into mom. What a neat solution it would be, too.
Well, that was a little TOO neat. It was one thing for me to make babies with a lithe, nubile cheerleader or some oversexed MILF substitute teacher.
There, it was a pleasure making those babies. But now, I was being asked to coldly provide 'industrial reproductive fluid' for a cold, sterile insemination procedure. There was no way I was going to do that, (dude).
I pretended to go along with their idea. Every morning I would dutifully present that little sample bottle to him with my cum. They were intentionally tiny samples. When he protested I asked whether his samples had ever been larger. He had to admit they hadn't been. It was simple genetics, or so I convinced him.
When he put the tiny samples into the baster he intended to use to inject my seed into mom, it actually coated the baster plastic walls and left absolutely nothing to be injected. He was frustrated and desperate. We had 21 days left to start to make the trust deadlines.
He called mom and me together in the living room.
Pa: "I have tried everything to get the job done without having to resort to desperate measures. Well, we're out of time if we want that trust money. So, it is with incredible reluctance that I say: the only way we have a chance is for you two to have sex, copulate freely and often, until your mom is pregnant. I hereby authorize and encourage the two of you to have sex. Don't be shy; do it here, do it now!"
We were both stunned. Even though I had hoped that this would happen (by giving him tiny fractions of my copious spend for his sample bottles), I still dared not dream that it would come to pass.
To be asked, cajoled, even forced, to breed my own mom, trying to get her pregnant, was more than I could imagine.
If you remember the old 'I Dream of Jeanie' show starring Barbara Eden, my mom was almost an exact copy: Same beautiful face and fabulous figure. As a matter of fact, my mom was a tiny bit hotter than Ms. Eden, with bigger boobs and better legs. The dimples over her pert bum and her gorgeous smooth feet completed a perfect package...We're talking hot mama now, son...
Even though cycles were such that we were wasting our time breeding on most days, mom and I were nonetheless directed by him to copulate continuously and relentlessly. For three weeks, we had the strangest home in all of America.
While we were at home, he demanded that we remain nude at all times. Furthermore, the moment that my 'batteries were re-charged' after the prior love session I was to call for mom and do her immediately.
This really was becoming ridiculous. At the breakfast table, he calmly downed waffles and bacon while in the next seat his own wife was going up and down on a seated stud. My ten inch long steel-hard cock was sliding in and out of her pussy, the rough cockhead driving her crazy dragging itself against her tingling vaginal walls. My manhood scraped against those cloying walls as the insipid morning news shows blathered on.