You Couldn't Handle Me Ch. 08

It was all my fault.

I had the original sin. I had lied to Tanya, not telling her about the broken condom, letting myself lose control inside her, getting her pregnant. It was an awful thing to do and in the end nothing good had come with it. I had spent twenty years in a marriage that was based on this lie, and even though it had its good points, this marriage was definitely missing that special something. And now my wife was cheating on me, carrying out an incestuous affair in front of me and I was stuck letting this happen, and footing the bill.

I felt terrible for all involved. I had put myself in this position. And I had done this to Tanya. When I first met her, she was a shining star, destined to be something huge. She had the looks and the body to be a huge star. But I had spent a night with her, accidentally gotten her pregnant, and had stolen her future. She was destined to be in movies, to be a face the entire world recognized. But instead, thanks to me, all she had become was a twisted, incestuous whore, fucking her own son, cheating on her husband.

I felt the worst for Tom. He was a good young man. I had worked hard to make sure he knew he had to work hard in life, to treat people well and do things the right way. I had felt pride in him. He had found a great girl who brought out the best in him, and he was going to a great school. He had a bright future ahead of him. He had been a good kid! A great kid! But now, he had ditched all of that just to fuck his own mother. He was destined for great things, not to end up fucking his own mom. He had fallen victim to that pride and arrogance that always rested inside of him. He had been twisted to become someone else entirely. No longer was he my son. He was an arrogant asshole, the douchebag jock I always tried to make sure he would never become.

I had failed him as a father.

I spent the next few months on the road. I called home every so often, and I was dismayed to find Tanya was shameless in what she was up to with me out of the way, panting and moaning while on the phone with me. Needless to say, I didn't call home much.

I kept an eye on both her and Tom online. I checked their Facebook pages, and was disheartened by what I found. I saw visual evidence of what Tanya and Tom had been up to.

I saw pictures of them on some Caribbean beach, her in a revealing bikini and him in his slim board shorts. I saw lots of selfies of Tanya, pictures in flattering clothing and all dolled up. The thought she was doing all this for Tom filled me with impotent anger. It became clear that neither Tom nor Tanya were working. Tanya must have not bothered doing auditions, and Tom wasn't going to school or working or anything. They were just staying at home, with just each other.

I saw two pictures that caused a huge level of distress. The first was a few months after starting this new job. I saw a picture of Tanya, her pants pulled down slightly, revealing a fresh tattoo on her ass cheek. Part of the tattoo was obscured by the hem of her jeans, a small phrase. It said, "Property of ..." I gulped, knowing how that phrase finished.

My son owned my wife's ass.

I even saw pictures of Tom with Tanya's good looking friend Casey, and I could only wonder where she fit in in all this depravity. That was until I saw one picture with her jeans being pulled down slightly, and I saw she had the same tattoo Tanya did.

But it was the last picture I saw that made my jaw drop. I was about to head back home after being gone for a while, so I checked in, trying to see what to expect when I got back. I saw a picture of Tanya, a selfie taken in the mirror.

It was easy to take for granted how gorgeous she was. She looked beautiful in this picture, her face again reminding me how attractive and sexy she was. Her face was perfectly made up, and she had her lips pouted in a kissy face. She had changed her hair, having it not only styled differently, but also adding a blonde streak through her black hair, adding a youthful sexiness to her appearance. But that wasn't the first thing I noticed.

What caught my attention was her pregnant belly.

My eyes were widened in shock. Her stomach was bulging with pregnancy, and she was showing it off proudly to the camera, her slim top molding to her upper half. She still looked great, still fit and perfect and slim, aside from her pregnant belly. And her breasts looked enormous, swollen with milk, bigger than I had ever seen them. My lust for her deepened. But the thought that my wife was pregnant with our son's child, and that it was Tom that would be the one feeling, sucking, and fucking those massive, milk-filled breasts made me burn with jealousy.

My son had knocked up his mother. My wife had been impregnated by my son. This affair had reached an even deeper level of depravity. I only hoped that somehow, someway, there was some shred of good left in Tom. And maybe, just maybe, he could escape the depths of filth he had entered himself into. If not, if he had completely succumbed to his dark, lustful side... then what a waste that would be. What a waste of potential that would be. It would be a tragedy.

A God damn tragedy.

***********

(Tom)

I felt terrible about what I did to Carmen. Sure, Mom had instigated it and had made our breakup happen, but it had to happen sooner or later, and Mom was eager to push her out. I was absolutely furious with Mom for doing it the way she did, to humiliate Carmen so savagely, but that anger had been taken out on her in...other ways. But it was obviously unfair to Carmen to carry out this affair under her noise, to humiliate her by cheating on her with my own mother. To lead her on and let her keep thinking things were still okay with us when they weren't. So, as much as I hated to do it, my relationship with Carmen had to be ended. It's what I had to do.

I did love her, but I was too hung up on Mom to be the man she needed. It would be impossible to focus on Carmen with Mom around. Mom's body was an addiction I just couldn't shake. Carmen deserved better than me, and despite how cruel our break up was, in a way, it was for the best. This way, the blame was on me. I was the asshole responsible for how everything ended, and not her. She wouldn't have to think about her shortcomings, hopefully. She could simply blame me for being the cheating asshole. I loved her and I hoped for the best for her, I really did, but that relationship needed to be sacrificed. It was for the best for all involved. I had kept tabs on her online, and it seemed like she was doing well. It looked like she was making new friends at med-school, and judging by the pictures I had seen, she didn't seem completely defeated. She was a tough girl, and I was happy to see she was able to move on. I didn't want what had happened between us to haunt her, and I could only hope I hadn't done too much damage to her. But, like I said, I had to do it. I had to break it off with her. I had to give up everything I had before to be able to move on, to go forward into uncharted territory with someone else by my side.

I had lost everything. Traded it all away. All that personal growth I had made had been erased. My fiancée was long gone. I barely talked to my father. I had dropped out of school. My friends had become distant.

But what I did have was Mom.

I had my gorgeous, slutty, hot bodied mom, eager and willing to take my cock deep in every hole. She was a willing slut, letting me do whatever I wanted to her, as fucking hard as I fucking wanted. I knew that it was wrong, that it was fucked-up, but it was what I needed. What I was built for. We did it every day. We couldn't get enough. Each encounter brought out new things and new aspects to the sex between us, but one thing was consistent.

I owned Mom's ass.

I made that clear when I made her get that tattoo. The world needed to know I owned Mom's ass. And now, it was official.

The sex was every bit as filthy as ever, and that didn't change. Mom kept getting nastier and nastier. And when she got knocked up and her hormones went nuts... we both went a little nuts.

I was now unrestrained. All that time I had spent trying to dial down my innermost urges was all for naught. I was living the life I was always meant to. I was being the man I was born to be.

Some might call me crazy for what I had done. But I tell you, when you have your hot-bodied, naked mother riding your cock, her pregnant belly bulging outward, her breasts hugely swollen and dripping with milk, I defy you not to go a little crazy. I defy you to not let the beast come out.

And if you think that Mom being knocked up with her son's baby made her tastes get any softer, you're kidding yourself. She was as horny and filthy as ever.

So, now after everything I had been through, after two years of battling, I had my mom in bed every night. I had full access to her body. Any resistance I might have once felt had been long since fucked away in my marathon romps with her. All the bad things she had done, all the things she had done to push Carmen and Dad away... that added to her nasty appeal. I wanted her more than ever.

I felt a manly pride being around her, knowing I was more than enough man for her. Mom had really turned up the heat in regards to her slut-wear. Every time we went out, Mom wore super low-tops, her jiggling breasts pouring over the edges. She wore thin, short mini-skirts and severe high-heels, showcasing her long, firm legs and juicy ass. Her thong straps were evident, lifted over her hips, showing some serious whale-tail. People didn't have time to wonder why a young guy like me was with an older woman. Or if they suspected this older women was my mother, and if she was, with how exposed she was, if something going on between me and her. None of that mattered. She was too hot. Her boobs were too big. Mom was dressed up like a twenty-year old party slut, wearing stylish sunglasses and being casually bitchy to anyone who crossed her. God, I had to resist the urge to ravage her in public, and I didn't always succeed.

There was a certain pride I felt at knowing I was the only one that got to see her filthy side. I got to see her wearing the tiniest bikinis and the filthiest, sexiest lingerie. She teased the world, but only let me see the goods. She was still teasing me on a constant basis, every word hinting at innuendo or lust. A few months prior, I would have been furious. But now, she followed through on her teasing, and that made the whole game worth it.

Where before, she had the power over me, teasing me from above, from the power position she held as my mom. Despite everything, at the end of the day, she was still my mother, and that brought out a certain level of respect and awareness of the fact that I should respect her authority. And on top of that, her blatant sexual charisma and her massive tits made her a very intimidating, powerful woman. She was an untamed lioness, prowling the sierra, intimidating all comers who intruded on her, the true queen of the jungle. For too long, her reign had lasted, to the point where she became this unrepentant, unrestrained, sex-goddess, her power and arrogance flowing through her with each challenger she swatted away. She never faced a worthy adversary, a true rival to keep her skills sharp. She fell victim to the boredom of supreme beauty and confidence, not recognizing the danger in front of her till it was too late.

The prince seized the throne. And now, I had the power.

While she was once a lioness, she was now a pussycat. Where before, her sexual magnetism was practically seeping from her pores, leaving her unable to resist the urge to flex her muscles and test her talents at teasing, making her an untamed, sexual bombshell. But now, although she was still dripping with sex, she had been successfully tamed, her alpha status stolen from her not by some stranger but by her own son. Sure, she still had some bite, and her alpha status over most was still in place. But not to me. I had her number. I knew how to handle her. In our relationship, the script had been flipped. I had the power now. In the relationship between me and Mom, I called the shots. I was the man of the house. The queen deferred to me, now. I had made her mine, and she accepted and loved the power I had over her and her body. And because of that, I got to reap the rewards, namely her hot body and filthy mouth.

It was awesome.

I can't even put into words the nasty things we have done together since our sexual tension had been consummated. We couldn't keep our hands off of each other. We were like two teens that had just discovered sex, only in this case, I was a well-experienced 20-year-old, and she was my 42 year old mother. We had discovered real sex. The type of sex more befitting for people like us. And it was an addiction. It was as hot as fire. And neither of us could get enough. We were both addicts.

It was amazing we got anything done. It would be a lie to say either of us were productive members of society anymore. We barely left the house. Mom would go out shopping and pick up the essentials, but she always made sure to get something special for me, like a new slutty outfit for her to show her hot body in. All the money Dad made for us was being used to aid in the rough, incestuous sex his son and wife were taking part in. Even the seemingly innocent things, like food and water, were simply fuel to further aid in our nasty, marathon sex sessions. The only purpose we served was exploring the deep, dark, sizzling waters of incest. And boy, we did explore.

The house was a far different place now that I was in charge. I had taken my place in the master bedroom, now spending my nights in bed with my naked mom. Mom still did some mom things, but it was now with a sense of near irony, cause the idea of her being my mom and me being her son really just did it for both of us. Mom would be washing dishes in the sink, and I would sidle up behind her and grind my thick cock between her jean covered butt-cheeks, grinding into her until we both lost control. Within minutes, Mom's freely-hanging boobs would be splashing into the soapy water as I drilled her. Mom would change the sheets on the bed, and minutes later Mom would be squirting all over them as I fucked her brains out.

The contentiousness between us had dissipated now that we were completely on the same page. Mom's obsession in life had become draining my swollen balls, and everything she did aided that purpose. She made sure to wear the skimpiest of clothing around me at all times. She would, out of nowhere, give me sizzling hot strip-teases. Sometimes, she would sneak up behind me and grope my throbbing cock through my clothes while purring in my ear. She would shake her butt when she knew I was watching, and made sure to add a little extra bounce to her step, making those huge boobs of her really jiggle. She would sit on my lap whenever she got the chance, grinding her hot ass into my thick cock, grinding my dick along the length of her ass crack before stepping away, happy in her teasing of me. Sometimes, when I was on the couch, she would step onto it and start swiveling her hips, lifting her skirt to show off her thong-clad ass and soaked cunt, grinding herself into my face. And she would often join me in the shower. As our slippery bodies rubbed together and our hands groped each other under the pretense of washing, it didn't take long for us to get down to business.

For so long, she had withheld her body from me, but now, I saw her naked all the time. It was pretty awesome. I had exclusive access to her hot body. I saw her bare ass every day, and the only good part of watching her walk away from bed was watching each round, firm cheek jiggle with every step. I saw Mom's bare, trimmed cunt at every opportunity, and it made my mouth water. It was such a raw, sexual sight, my hot mom's bare cunt. Each time I saw it sent a jolt of sizzling lust through me. And of course, I got to see her huge, jiggling breasts every day, and the sight never got old. Each mammoth, round, soft breast, each hard, rubbery nipple, it made my cock pulse with need.

Seeing her ass, and knowing I had had that... it was a thrill. Seeing her tight cunt, and knowing I had felt it stretched around my cock was a point of pride. And seeing those huge tits, and knowing I had touched them, squeezed them, sucked them, and fucked them, that I had cum all over them and made them my property... it made all the torture she put me through worth it.

And she had returned the favor. I can't count how many times I caught her staring at my crotch or lustily eyeing my firm body or my butt. Whenever I was naked, Mom had a hard time taking her eyes off my cock. I would catch her eyeing it up, studying every inch lustily. Sometimes, during the sex, she would slowly stroke me, admiring my cock with her eyes and her hands. She would weigh my balls in her palms as well, squeezing my sack lustily. One thing was clear: Mom loved my cock and balls.

We had many adventures. She dressed up in outfits as we added role-play to our repertoire. Seeing my 42-year-old Mom dressed up like a strict teacher, or a cop, or a schoolgirl, it was amazing. God, seeing my mother, the woman who had raised me, who used to pack my lunches and walk me to school, seeing her dressed like a schoolgirl slut for my pleasure, the thin white top tied at her chest, barely holding back her massive breasts, nipples showing through. Seeing her long legs exposed by her tiny red schoolgirl skirt, white stockings and high heels, seeing her hair tied in pigtails and lips coated with lip gloss. Seeing my mature, hot bodied mother acting like a ditzy teenager... it drove me fucking wild.

I gave it back to her too. I returned to school, at a local school. Mom encouraged me to return to football, and I decided to give it another shot. I'm pretty sure Mom only wanted me back at school in football simply to satisfy her own fetishes. But I had to admit I missed being in the trenches, and on top of that, I knew it would add another layer to me and Mom's fucked up relationship. Once I was able to get onto the field, I made starting QB, and once out there, it felt amazing to be on the field again. But the best part was knowing that watching from the stands at every game, lust in her eyes, was Mom. The motivation driving me was knowing that the better I did on the football field, the harder Mom would be riding my cock later.

And let's just say, during football season, Mom was riding my cock hard and often.

Fucking Mom had made me a better football player, strangely enough. Where before, there was the part of me clinging to the hope of being a cool, well-adjusted, normal guy. Now, I had let the arrogance flow through me. I had become the true 'douchebag buttfucker' Carmen feared I was. I was cocky, I was arrogant, and I was good. People might resent my talents and balk at my cockiness, but my talents on the field ensured a grudging respect. My arrogance allowed me to think outside the box, preventing me from being tentative and fearful. I had fucked my own mother and knocked her up. How much worse could it be throwing the ball into double coverage? Arrogance, combined with my natural talent, served me well on the football field, as well as the bedroom. It was clear I had good future ahead of me with my talents.

The best part of the getting back into football was how much Mom enjoyed watching me. My confidence in life and on the field made me a prime target for eager college girls, but my eyes were elsewhere. I already had the best, and I wasn't settling for anything less. After the games, after a hard fought victory, Mom would lead me into the bedroom and give me her post-game, motherly rubdown. She knew how to work me up, to make me ache for her. God, she fucked me so hard after that. And then seeing her after our romp in the sack, clothed in my football jersey, like the cheerleader after a night with the quarterback when she had nothing else to wear, seeing her jiggling tits dancing under the thin top... it got me back to full hardness immediately.