My fist fuck, an incestuous encounter with my mom of all things, left me with such a hunger and a desire that I wanted desperately to plow through more mature cunt. If you havenât read the first chapter, you wonât recall that Iâm your typical 20-year-old American male: average height, a bit on the muscular side but not a jock, and a recent college graduate. But there are two things that differentiate me from all other males: the gift to hypnotize and perhaps most importantly the fact that Iâve an uncommonly large cock. Itâs nice and thick and a little over twelve inches long when fully erect.
In the beginning my sex life consisted of nightly hand jobs for at an early age I realized that having such a large cock might present some problems. It seemed obvious that no sane woman, young or old, would willingly want that âthingâ inside her. It had made me shy and certainly embarrassed, and had I not walked about with my hands in my pockets trying to conceal the monster lurking within, I might well have attracted a few curious girls. But in my fucked up mind I was a freak and so I remained a virgin.
But my mother had opened up a whole new world for me. Not only the fantastic world of sex but the realization that the Evil Eye would certainly ensure the obedience of any chick I set my eyes upon! I could manipulate them any way I wanted, physically and mentally. An added bonus was that they would not remember a single moment they experienced during their trance---once they âawokeâ life went on as usual. I didnât have to charm, beg or plead a woman to sleep with me---I could just damn well have her! It was quite the advantage, wouldnât you say?
Any chick I wanted. Hmm. I thought about that for a while. Yet no matter how hard I tried to think of a girl Iâd like to have a crack at, the image of my mom squatting on me kept steering my fantasies towards mature women. All I could suddenly think of were the older women in and about our town, most of them mothers of my fellow students! Oh, what a selection!
I have to thank my mom for that! I donât think that the well-used phrase âexperienced older broadâ had anything to do with it, as I had nothing to compare her performance to. But the sound of my 40-year old mom squeaking and howling, her face all contorted and wide-eyed and so deliriously excited at the same time, madly humping me as if it was the last time she ever would was something I promised myself I would want to experience again and again. And so I decided to test the effects of the Evil Eye out on the neighborhood.
Watch out---your mom is probably next!
I naturally had the means yet still had to figure out how to go about it. My powers were not strong enough to control a bevy of family members and nosy neighbors. I therefore had to find a way to ensure that the woman I intended to âvisitâ was alone, and that for a considerable time. This certainly caused me considerable headaches. I spent several days musing over this dilemma until it occurred to me that the only logical solution would be to carefully shadow my intended victim, thereby amassing valuable information as to their habits and daily schedules. And so I spent the next two days spying on the first woman on my list.
This unfortunate woman was more than just one of the women in our neighborhood, but also the administrative director of my college. She lived in the outskirts of neighboring Bakersfield and I knew that she would be home shortly before noon. A certain Parker Matthews had died in a car crash three days ago, and since he was the son of the collegeâs director, all the faculty staff had attended the funeral services this morning.
Let me tell you about this woman. Hyacinthe Eleanor Deans was forty-three years old, about five-foot-ten inches tall and very slim and slender---a real garden rake. In fact everything about her was long and lean: the face; the slender arms with their bony fingers and pointy nails; the waspish waist, the slim hips and with legs as long as those of a spiderâs. I suppose the best description of her lanky body would be that it was sylph-like. Skinny: but still shapely. She had the most remarkable walk; slow and elegant, the slim hips gently swaying, the steps never hurried so that she looked like a timid giraffe crossing a clearing.
Yet although borderline skinny she possessed fairly large breasts that made her slender and frail body exceptionally interesting. On her slim body they seemed positively huge! They were not heavily rounded and balloon-like, but slim, forward heaving jugs that sloshed and swished about when she walked past you. Oh shit---you could actually hear them shake!
Unfortunately her full bust was never very visible as she was wont to cover them up with cardigans or knitted shawls so that their true size and shape was anyoneâs guess. She was ultra-feminine in her choice in wardrobe, a bit frumpish perhaps, so that she always looked like the proverbial shortsighted, dim-witted librarian. She was always buttoned-up and never wore anything remotely revealing. No matter what she wore---blouses or a simple top---she always had to bundle herself up in a shawl or some form of wrap. She usually wore flat, sensible shoes, opting to wear heels only when she wore a skirt. And if she did, the skirt always fell below the knees. Her old-fashioned wardrobe and the bifocal eyeglasses she was wont to wear around her neck on a delicate gold chain made her look twenty-years older than she was. She certainly wasnât old yet gave one the impression that she was pushing seventy.
She had very pale skin coloring, almost alabaster; hazel colored feline eyes and a small, pouting mouth. The creamy skin coloring contrasted sharply with her black hair---and I mean a natural black, black like a ravenâs wing. She had fairly long hair, straight and smooth, but in all the years that I have known her she had never worn it loose. Instead she had it always pinned up in a very severe and business-like manner.
She was a sweet woman, loving and kind, a real motherly type who went out of her way to help anyone even at a great personal sacrifice. She was too concerned with everyoneâs well being and stressed herself out in trying to cope with her own workload and everybody elseâs problems. She was also extremely prudish in behavior, blushed a lot when sexual innuendos fell into conversations no matter how harmless the comment, and was too religious by far. She was wont to âBless the Lordâ quite frequently and chide you with remarks such as âAh, only the good Lord will forgivethâ when you fucked up with something or another. Oh, no matter what you said or did she would remind you that âThe good Lordâ was always there, peeking over your shoulder. In many ways she was quite eccentric. She wasnât a numbskull, but exceptionally old-fashioned and naĂŻve regarding the modern world and its social issues.
Although polite and soft-spoken she had a real knack for getting things done her way. Nobody I knew had ever lost an argument with her. She could persuade a supplier in agreeing to her demands whether it was for a new roof or for a dozen new PCâs. She was quite charming, and if one looked past the frumpish old maid veneer she was actually quite beautiful, too. Those emerald eyes could really hold you spellbound----they were very mystic. And that slinky body with the loose, wobbling tits surely made a guy succumb to her whims. She was no flirt: yet for some inexplicable reason you needed to please her. And when she smiled at you and thanked you in her goofy, feminine way you simply felt as if your day was complete. You knew that you could never have a chance with her as she was certainly not promiscuous and any pass at her would certainly shock her silly. She seemed the kind who would report you on the spot. Yet you just had to please her. It was quite odd.
She was an immigrant from Liverpool, England. Her husband, a sixty-two year old (yup, he was an old fart) was one of our professors, a well-known archeologist, and he had brought her with him several years ago. It was an odd marriage for two reasons: he was rarely home; always out at some dig who knows where and the nineteen-year age difference made you wonder about their sexual lifestyle, if any. They had two children, though: a twenty-four year old son who had returned to England and a nineteen-year-old girl who lived with them. The girl, unlike her mother, was a short and chubby little thing who would probably blimp out into a real hippo within the following years. The daughter worked in Jarvis Bay as a dentistâs assistant and wasnât supposed to be home until late tonight.
