Everyday presents new and cunning surprises. Whether they are great, or horrendously horrible, it does not matter; they shall happen, they shall occur, and they shall find you. In retrospect, that is my view of my life. My youth. The conglomeration of a past of building climaxes and dissolving tragedies. They're wonderful, though. Good or bad, I am still alive, and I am more than living; I am burning.

In school, I am known as a fervent lover, absolutely gorgeous, and most of all, a male slut that women can not resist. I am one, and yet I bind them all. But then, of course, to some like my mother, or my sister, or my father, I am simply Jake. Jacob. Jacques. Whichever you prefer, as long as you feel it's syllables soothe your slaver dripping tongue.

Right now, I am shrugging on some clothes after my annual dose of sex. My neighbor is very resourceful, and thusly, like any man with fine taste would gladly do, I ask her over for a few sprites.

I took the stairs then, calmly meandering down until I reached the base. Perhaps, I guess, this'd be a good time to tell you about myself. I'm an oversexed, 18 year old male with a build on the verge of covering magazines, and able to inspire many more women with choruses of awing and gaping mouths. I'm popular, I'm athletic, I'm gorgeous, and I am more than sophisticated. I can play anyone. Any thing. Any person that decides they would like to step up to my challenge; my game; my irresistible charm.

Enough about me. Lets move on to something almost as intriguing.

And at that moment, my mother passed, and I hissed in accordance. There is one thing I must admit; one weakness in my armor--that is my mother. She isn't exactly top-of-the-line meat, but there is something about her. Perhaps the fact that a mother, of all perverse things, is more forbidden than anything, and unthinkable. Perhaps it is the sheer idea of not being able to have her. It is something that has been sleeping inside me for far too long. The way her rump sways lackadaisically, and every thing she does to make this house better than it actually is with a clean, nonchalant smile to her thick, opulent lips--in the end, it drives me more than nuts.

And yes, you may think me mad, but I do not care. No, not at all; and at this very glorious moment, I followed in her wake; in the billowing of her blouse; in the soaking of that lilac perfume that made a perfect trajectory behind her. Everything about her screamed...

She turned around instinctively and jumped. "Oh! Hi, Jake, I didn't realize you were home."

I smiled a simple smile, one that was unreadable, and yet readable in every angle, "I've been home for a while, mom."

The hallway was rather large and I soon met her side, calmly walking beside her.

"I've been sunbathing all morning. Can't you tell?"

I looked at her arms, assessing through whatever boredom that pounces into my brain, and nodded.

"Oh well. What are you up to for today?"

I had forgot it was still morning, and as we entered the kitchen, my plan slowly began to mold thoroughly into my head. Boy, did it ever; I was afraid it'd seep out my nose, or my ears, or worst of all... My dick.

"I don't know. What do you propose?" I added in a little sexy tone to that one.

"I'm not sure. Can I get you anything?"

And that is another reason why mothers are so glamorous and sexy. They are slaves, capable to get you almost anything at your whim; for the exception of the bitch mothers, which I do not have fortunately.

"Yes. A glass of... Uh... Sprite." I wasn't interested in the drink, but it will help to put out the fire aching inside me--maybe.

By the time I sat down, she had already poured me a glass, and wandered over towards me. I grabbed it, and accidentally, or not, spilled it on my shirt with a little help from mother's hands.

"Oh god! I'm sorry Jake! Here, let me get you a rag..."

"No no, it's quite all right. I'll just take it off." And this I did. I yanked off the shirt effortlessly, and properly revealed what lied beneath. Some pecs, a six pack, which led to the V that subtly climbed out the top of my pants, slightly pointing out the direction of my pelvic region.

I heard her gasp slightly; she hadn't seen me in a while shirtless, and to witness such a physique, compared to my fat father, was some spectacle I'd imagine for her.

"Now, tell me about your tanning again?"

I slapped on a cute, curious face which erased any signs of a small grin from erupting.

"Oh oh, just was out there for a little while. I haven't tanned in so long, you know?"

"Where's dad?" I wanted to make sure of my time; time is of the essence.

"He's out at work for the rest of the day, leaving poor old me to do all the cleaning."

"Aw, mom, don't worry about it. Take a break. Lets go back out to the pool and take a swim."

As you can see, from the woman bathing next to me, that she had quickly taken up my offer. I mean, who could refuse such a question from such a stunning male as myself? To make it even better, I had a video camera set up at the window, pointing out at the pool. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not sure anything is going down, but if indeed it does, I want to remember it and I want to have some. . . leeway. Heh.

"Mom, could you massage this lotion into my back? I hate when it gets all icky on my back and leaves patches..."

"All right, one second."

And in that second, I felt the moisture of the white cream casually rub itself into the pores of my skin. Erupting somewhere down below, I felt myself becoming turned on by this.

Mothers breasts are fairly large, and the fact that they were wavering like a metronome over my back was more than seductive. I kept on peaking up at their cleavage, and then at her legs. I wanted her. Badly. To show the world that even I could outmatch the forbidden, and delve even into their sweets.

I turned around, "Now, my stomach, perhaps?" Who could resist that question? My stomach was pure metal and nothing but, and when I saw her eyes, I knew that she was tempted.

She giggled, and that irritated me. "No, you can reach your stomach, honey."

I did have a hard-on, and I'm never ashamed of anyone, even my mother of seeing it; for if they did, just by the size, that would turn them on more. I wanted her to see.

She closed her eyes and in a few moments, when she looked somewhat asleep, I grabbed her hand smoothly and slid it down into my pants, allowing her to touch my dick. She gasped like earlier, only much more sharper, and I saw her lungs bring in a herd of breath into their fences.


And I pulled my hand out, leaving her hand there. That same hand, slipped over to her breast that was closest to me, and squeezed.

"Jake! What the fuck are you doing!"

I didn't say anything, and at this point, I jumped on her with my black bathing suit ripped off.

"Jake!" She began to shout more loudly, pouting against my will. "What has gotten into you?"

I ripped her bottom off, and wiped my finger slowly up and down the lips of her vagina; and in some odd fascination and perversion, it made me even more horny to see her unshaven pussy. It grappled any grasp of reality I had, and threw it into the void.

I heard her moan as she fought against me, wiggling and writhing, and then, as soon as her vagina became wet, I slipped my dick into it; and like any other man, I measure, and it is nothing but 8 inches. She swallowed all her shouts, all her protests, and exhaled something more profound and significant; a sigh. Then a moan. Another few moans, and then I knew I had her. I kept on thrusting, powerfully, hungrilly, until she started to move into motion against my thrusts; pounding herself against my torso with thundering clashes.

"Oooooh! Jake! That feels so good! Uuuhhhh... Uhhhhh..."

I kept going, excusing any rhythm other than to totally fuck the shit out of my mother. God, I couldn't stop. I just kept fondling her breasts now and then, but mostly paid my full million dollar attention on her facial expressions. The way her mouth went awry, and her eyes would blink closed tightly.

"Ooooooh.... Oooooooh.... Oooooooh! OH! OH!"

The louder she got, the rougher I got. My dick was practically glowing at its tip at this moment, and I was beginning to reach my pinnacle; my peak; my combustion.

"Let it go Jake! Ooooh! Please Jake! OOOOOOOOH... Goooood... Good.... Let it go... Oh my god..."

And I did, almost on cue, allowing it to flood her. I didn't bother touching any where else on her the whole time pretty much, but just use the lounge chair as a handle for my excessive thrusts. I was unstoppable, and now, I am relieved.

"Oh, Jake... That was... Great..."

And it is all on video camera, too.

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