. was it me? I didn't know, didn't care. All I could think of was my son's cock in my ass... stretching it... me fucking him faster and faster."Mom, I...... I'm going to cum... Jesus I'm going to cum..." He was moaning.I felt his hands reach around and cup my tits. More moaning, it was me, I knew it now. He pinched my nipples and pulled on them hard. It was enough... I was going over the edge and so was my son. Tilting my head back I screamed in ecstasy, pleasure spreading through my whole body. Needless to say, no-one ever disrespected him or his slaves anymore. We spoke frequently and he told me that he was a widower, aged around forty, and wasn’t very rich – actually he hardly had any money at all. His slaves were supporting him with their jobs. It wasn’t that he was polite to them because he feared they would stop supporting him, instead they chose to support him because he was a respectful master who they looked up to immensely. They made him stop working, and each of them. Especially because his mom had always had something against blondes and had told Dean from the start that Amanda would end up being no good. Well, nothing I can do about that now Dean thought as he pulled into his driveway. He grabbed his first bag of stuff and started walking towards the front door. He called out as he walked into the house and stood by the front door awaiting the onslaught of questions, but no one appeared to badger him. Apparently his Mom and little sister were out. Probably. One Saturday morning, three weeks after Joyie's death, I heard rain tapping at the window. My head felt too heavy to be lifted off the pillow; my mouth was dry and sour. I concentrated on not throwing up and then opened my right eye. For the first few seconds I didn't know where I was, but after a momentary panic, my brain connected the desk chair and the window seat with Brad's room.I gone to a party with my cousins the night before and could remember getting drunk for the first time in my.