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CougarGirl
Star
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2013
This story is a companion to “Raped by my son 1, 2 and 3”
It was a normal Saturday. At least, that’s how it started out. I slept in, showered, grabbed some food, collected my kit and headed off for the game. I’m in a local team that plays soccer every Saturday afternoon. The game got off to a good start for us. The other side were outmatched and outplayed, and they knew it. You could see defeat in their eyes. Except for one guy. You could tell how frustrated he was. Every time he tried to pass me, I took the ball off him. It was like playing against a kid. Looking back, I suppose I must have tormented him more than any of the other players, always making a show of how easy it was to run rings round him. And then, just before half time, he saw his chance and took it.
I had the ball and was running down the left wing, intending to pass to the player over to my right. This other guy was in my way. I knew I could take him, easy. But there must have been a bit of rough ground or something, because I lost of my footing and went down, right in front of him. He kicked out. He made no attempt to kick the ball, just aimed right at my crotch. It was quite deliberate. The studs on his boot hit me dead centre, crushing my nuts.
I’d banged my nuts before, it’s an occupational hazard in sport, but it was never like this. The other times had been painful, but this was in a different league. There was no pain at first. Just silence, all the shouting of the players and spectators cut off, like a radio being turned off. Then the pain hit. Fuck it was bad. Cutting me in two. My vision went blurry and I doubled over howling like a little kid. The coach rushed over, tried to give me some relief, but it didn’t do much good. In the end, I was almost carried off the field, doubled over.
There wasn’t much sympathy for me in the dressing room. Maybe they thought I got what I deserved for tormenting the other guy. Maybe they thought it was an accident. Maybe … I don’t know. All I know is the coach said to take it easy, go home, lie down, it would pass. Thanks for your help.
And that’s why I went home and what happened happened.
I didn’t want to go back, because I knew it was mom’s special time. She thought I didn’t know, but I’d had to come back a few times and had caught her. The first time, it sounded like she was in pain or something, so I tiptoed up to her bedroom door and peeked. There she was, on her bed with one of those false cock things, watching her computer and rubbing away as hard as she could. I wait until she was out and then checked around and found where she’d hidden the dildo. Checked what she’d been watching online too. That was easy, I know her password. Some lesbian stuff. I didn’t feel comfortable about seeing her like that. Well that’s only natural, isn’t it? It made me feel uncomfortable. Not because I’d seen something private, something she wouldn’t want me to see. It’s difficult to explain. It just made me uncomfortable, gave me feelings I didn’t like having, not about my mom.
A few weeks later, I was sent off for a foul and came home earlier. She was at it again. I watched for longer this time, but it still made me uncomfortable. Just physical reactions, that’s all, but different. Not like I get with my girlfriend, more personal in a way I can’t describe, much more intense. After that, I tried to avoid going home if I could.
But this time I had no choice. I tried opening the door quietly so as not to disturb her and, to be honest, not to have to explain why I was back. The pain was easing, but I still felt weak and sick. All I wanted was to lie down quietly until I felt better. But no such luck. She must have heard the key, because she was calling to me as soon as I shut the door. Then she was rushing down to me, down the stairs, with her bath robe flying open, showing her legs. I tried not to look and tried to avoid telling her what happened. But she managed to get the truth out of me, like she always does.
She got concerned, like any mother would I suppose. Asking me lots of questions about how it felt and whether I’d got myself checked out and what the coach had said and had I seen a doctor. All that stuff. Before I knew it, she’d dragged me into her bedroom and sat down like she used to when I had scuffed my knee or something. She’d sit on the chair, open her legs and pull me close to her so she could she see what had happened and make it better. Except … well, except this time I’m a lot older and she was sitting there with her robe falling open showing her legs and I was looking down on her seeing her breasts and before I knew it my jeans and shorts were round my ankles and I was standing there naked. I actually blushed. Can you believe it at my age? But mom hadn't seen me like this for years and it was uncomfortable. But I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She’s my mom after all.
When she touched me, it wasn’t like anything I’d felt before. She wasn’t clinical like a doctor or a nurse. Nor was she like my girlfriend. It’s difficult to describe, but it was different. She was feeling my nuts, gently so as not to hurt me, but her touch was exciting, like I’ve always imagined an older woman’s touch would be, experienced and understanding. That doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the best I can do. And I was desperately trying not to let it affect me, thinking of anything to take my mind off what is happening to me.
But she was holding my cock as well. Her hand was soft and warm, but strong too. And she was squeezing; each time she squeezed one of my nuts and asked if it hurt, her other hand pulsed in time with it. The more I tried to ignore it, the more obvious it became. Before I knew it, I was rock hard, stiff as a girder. It was just so embarrassing.
I think mom said something about what was happening, but I don’t remember what exactly, and I may have blamed her, but it’s a blur. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing that happens everyday, not something you plan for and know what to say. All of a sudden, things just started to happen. I felt like I wasn’t in control any more. I tried to push mom away, but she had her hand on my back and then she fell back onto the bed and her robe was open, I mean wide open, showing herself off to me like some cheap whore – not that I’ve ever been with one – and I could see her thighs glistening like she was aroused and dripping like my girlfriend is after we’ve fucked sometimes and I could smell her, can you believe that, actually smell her she was so strong. When she fell, she pulled me down on top of her and my cock was lined up with her cunt and it just went right in, down to my nuts. Next thing, she is tossing and writhing, screaming at the top of her voice, and she’s got her legs round me and thrusting away. I couldn’t escape, it was like she was raping me. And I start shouting at her. In the end we both came and just lay there on top of each other, panting.
It was only when she finally relaxed that I was able to get away. I just ran to my bedroom and threw myself down. I felt disgusted with my mother for what she’d made me do and with myself for letting her. But worst of all, I realised that what I’d just had was the most explosive sexual experience of my life. Was it because of the pain I was in at the time or because of my mother or what? I didn’t know. All I knew was that this was nothing like fucking with the girls I’ve been with. This was a different league. It had ruined my sex life. How could the girls I knew compete with this?
The next thing I heard was that Mom had accused me of rape. I wouldn’t have said anything. This isn’t the sort of thing you want your mates to hear about exactly. But I couldn’t let her get away with that, so I told the police just like it was and they said I’d hear no more about it. So they must have believed me, which was a big relief because I wouldn’t have wanted to stand up in court and tell everyone what mom did to me.
I left home. Well, I had no choice really. It would have been impossible being around mom after she fucked my life like she had. I miss her, though. After all, she’s still my mom.
It was a normal Saturday. At least, that’s how it started out. I slept in, showered, grabbed some food, collected my kit and headed off for the game. I’m in a local team that plays soccer every Saturday afternoon. The game got off to a good start for us. The other side were outmatched and outplayed, and they knew it. You could see defeat in their eyes. Except for one guy. You could tell how frustrated he was. Every time he tried to pass me, I took the ball off him. It was like playing against a kid. Looking back, I suppose I must have tormented him more than any of the other players, always making a show of how easy it was to run rings round him. And then, just before half time, he saw his chance and took it.
I had the ball and was running down the left wing, intending to pass to the player over to my right. This other guy was in my way. I knew I could take him, easy. But there must have been a bit of rough ground or something, because I lost of my footing and went down, right in front of him. He kicked out. He made no attempt to kick the ball, just aimed right at my crotch. It was quite deliberate. The studs on his boot hit me dead centre, crushing my nuts.
I’d banged my nuts before, it’s an occupational hazard in sport, but it was never like this. The other times had been painful, but this was in a different league. There was no pain at first. Just silence, all the shouting of the players and spectators cut off, like a radio being turned off. Then the pain hit. Fuck it was bad. Cutting me in two. My vision went blurry and I doubled over howling like a little kid. The coach rushed over, tried to give me some relief, but it didn’t do much good. In the end, I was almost carried off the field, doubled over.
There wasn’t much sympathy for me in the dressing room. Maybe they thought I got what I deserved for tormenting the other guy. Maybe they thought it was an accident. Maybe … I don’t know. All I know is the coach said to take it easy, go home, lie down, it would pass. Thanks for your help.
And that’s why I went home and what happened happened.
I didn’t want to go back, because I knew it was mom’s special time. She thought I didn’t know, but I’d had to come back a few times and had caught her. The first time, it sounded like she was in pain or something, so I tiptoed up to her bedroom door and peeked. There she was, on her bed with one of those false cock things, watching her computer and rubbing away as hard as she could. I wait until she was out and then checked around and found where she’d hidden the dildo. Checked what she’d been watching online too. That was easy, I know her password. Some lesbian stuff. I didn’t feel comfortable about seeing her like that. Well that’s only natural, isn’t it? It made me feel uncomfortable. Not because I’d seen something private, something she wouldn’t want me to see. It’s difficult to explain. It just made me uncomfortable, gave me feelings I didn’t like having, not about my mom.
A few weeks later, I was sent off for a foul and came home earlier. She was at it again. I watched for longer this time, but it still made me uncomfortable. Just physical reactions, that’s all, but different. Not like I get with my girlfriend, more personal in a way I can’t describe, much more intense. After that, I tried to avoid going home if I could.
But this time I had no choice. I tried opening the door quietly so as not to disturb her and, to be honest, not to have to explain why I was back. The pain was easing, but I still felt weak and sick. All I wanted was to lie down quietly until I felt better. But no such luck. She must have heard the key, because she was calling to me as soon as I shut the door. Then she was rushing down to me, down the stairs, with her bath robe flying open, showing her legs. I tried not to look and tried to avoid telling her what happened. But she managed to get the truth out of me, like she always does.
She got concerned, like any mother would I suppose. Asking me lots of questions about how it felt and whether I’d got myself checked out and what the coach had said and had I seen a doctor. All that stuff. Before I knew it, she’d dragged me into her bedroom and sat down like she used to when I had scuffed my knee or something. She’d sit on the chair, open her legs and pull me close to her so she could she see what had happened and make it better. Except … well, except this time I’m a lot older and she was sitting there with her robe falling open showing her legs and I was looking down on her seeing her breasts and before I knew it my jeans and shorts were round my ankles and I was standing there naked. I actually blushed. Can you believe it at my age? But mom hadn't seen me like this for years and it was uncomfortable. But I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She’s my mom after all.
When she touched me, it wasn’t like anything I’d felt before. She wasn’t clinical like a doctor or a nurse. Nor was she like my girlfriend. It’s difficult to describe, but it was different. She was feeling my nuts, gently so as not to hurt me, but her touch was exciting, like I’ve always imagined an older woman’s touch would be, experienced and understanding. That doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the best I can do. And I was desperately trying not to let it affect me, thinking of anything to take my mind off what is happening to me.
But she was holding my cock as well. Her hand was soft and warm, but strong too. And she was squeezing; each time she squeezed one of my nuts and asked if it hurt, her other hand pulsed in time with it. The more I tried to ignore it, the more obvious it became. Before I knew it, I was rock hard, stiff as a girder. It was just so embarrassing.
I think mom said something about what was happening, but I don’t remember what exactly, and I may have blamed her, but it’s a blur. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing that happens everyday, not something you plan for and know what to say. All of a sudden, things just started to happen. I felt like I wasn’t in control any more. I tried to push mom away, but she had her hand on my back and then she fell back onto the bed and her robe was open, I mean wide open, showing herself off to me like some cheap whore – not that I’ve ever been with one – and I could see her thighs glistening like she was aroused and dripping like my girlfriend is after we’ve fucked sometimes and I could smell her, can you believe that, actually smell her she was so strong. When she fell, she pulled me down on top of her and my cock was lined up with her cunt and it just went right in, down to my nuts. Next thing, she is tossing and writhing, screaming at the top of her voice, and she’s got her legs round me and thrusting away. I couldn’t escape, it was like she was raping me. And I start shouting at her. In the end we both came and just lay there on top of each other, panting.
It was only when she finally relaxed that I was able to get away. I just ran to my bedroom and threw myself down. I felt disgusted with my mother for what she’d made me do and with myself for letting her. But worst of all, I realised that what I’d just had was the most explosive sexual experience of my life. Was it because of the pain I was in at the time or because of my mother or what? I didn’t know. All I knew was that this was nothing like fucking with the girls I’ve been with. This was a different league. It had ruined my sex life. How could the girls I knew compete with this?
The next thing I heard was that Mom had accused me of rape. I wouldn’t have said anything. This isn’t the sort of thing you want your mates to hear about exactly. But I couldn’t let her get away with that, so I told the police just like it was and they said I’d hear no more about it. So they must have believed me, which was a big relief because I wouldn’t have wanted to stand up in court and tell everyone what mom did to me.
I left home. Well, I had no choice really. It would have been impossible being around mom after she fucked my life like she had. I miss her, though. After all, she’s still my mom.