[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; STORIES HAVE A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS]
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I put down the enormous barbell, weighted down with an incredible 400 lbs. Huffing and puffing, I looked into the crude mirror and flexed my young burgeoning muscles. It was all you had to do in prison, and I was not above it, even if I was only just turned 18. I had vowed revenge on the person or persons who had 'set me up' and put me 'in the joint'. Flexing 'my new guns', I myself was impressed and surprised at the mountainous 24 inch bulging biceps that graced my densely packed arms, the prominent veins highlighting the chiseled muscle, the incredible power in these guns. They all were dedicated to my revenge scheme. It was a painful thought that all of this pointed back to my own father...as he was the one that had put me away. So, I digress...
When I was just 16, I was living alone with my gorgeous mom and her high placed executive husband, my father. Dad was 51, going on 71 it seemed. Already he was a 'chrome dome' with small tufts of white hair surrounding a shiny pate where once stood hair. A bit paunchy, his 3 piece suit covered up some of his shortcomings, especially his REAL shortcoming, a three inch penis. It was a pity that mom had to try to satisfy herself on that tiny joke.
Mom was only 38, which was her prime, really. Running 2 miles a day, with a daily home gym regimen, mom was in great shape. She was blonde (as long as she got to the beauty parlor once a month) with blue eyes, a big white toothed smile framed by pouting ruby lips, and a mature MILF figure, with big tits, a firm behind, and shapely legs. She had that tattoo on her right ankle that every hot babe in Hollywood sported. Even her feet were sexy, with perfect formed nails coated cherry red. My mom...
One day I was cleaning the pool as mom finished her workout in the spare bedroom and was walking past the big picture window (overlooking the pool and patio). She stopped as if mesmerized. She was not enthralled with me, though her nasty and vindictive husband, Mal, thought as much. No, Sue (my mom) was absorbed with a decorating idea for the patio that would double its capacity for parties, normally entertaining Mal's fellow directors of his corporation. However, he thought she was hot for me. He vowed that that would not be tolerated, not in HIS house.
Some big corporations have 'fixers', employees or affiliates who could get things done 'unofficially'. As the corporation headquarters where we lived dominated the town, getting the corrupt sheriff's office to entrap someone was neither difficult nor costly. The packet of meth that they 'discovered in my trunk' during a routine stop for speeding put me away for five to ten years, mandatory. Of course, though only 16, he managed to get me tried as an adult, too.
So here I was, two years later. Almost tripping over the barbell holding every iron weight I had, I admired my newly acquired rippling muscles. I was proud that I had begged and finally convinced my mom to visit me. My youthful mom would certainly look the part. (you see, I lied and said that she was my girl from home, a slightly older woman.) I had never had the slightest 'designs' on my gorgeous mom, nor she on me. So, seeing her in the conjugal trailer would be absolutely innocent...it was just that I wanted privacy; the alternative was the visitation window, where every single word was observed and video recorded.
Mom was led to the trailer; I helped her up the shaky aluminum step ladder. She was wearing a tight chiffon blouse, revealing tight skirt that was mid-thigh in length, six inch high slides with a clear plastic single strap. She was the vision of mature MILF sex appeal, a soccer mom whose minivan should have been filled with four, eight, maybe a dozen children. Instead, her tiny equipped husband kept her entertained over the years with a few drips or drops of his sterile baby-free batter, ensuring yet another childless marital year.
Once safely inside the trailer, we hugged profusely. It had been a solid year since she had last visited; she was amazed at how I had changed, matured, developed. She had me 'make a muscle for mommy' and spent a good 10 minutes stroking, caressing, and cooing over the finely cut, bulging bicep that was so huge that I could barely move my arms. Mom warned me I had to maintain flexibility, so I stopped the upward progression of barbell total weight at 500 lbs.
I asked her if she had made any progress in getting the local newspaper or university to look into my conviction.
She finally had good news; the campus muckraking editor had used a comely co-ed stringer to loosen the tongue of a constable. It turns out that the re-election support from father's company for the sheriff was illegal per a decade old law. Free travel for the cops at the company's Caribbean retreat was also not 'kosher'.
The constable who opened up, after a few drinks and a 'lude' or two, admitted to doing some 'set-up' jobs, including mine!
At this point, mom hugged me almost desperately. She said, "God, Jimmy, I am so sorry. I believed him when he said you were just plain bad, a drug buying/dealing punk. I had no idea he was just jealous and wanted you out of the house. I never dreamt he would sink so low as to 'set up' his very own son, my handsome strapping son Jimmy (she kissed me on the lips, very non-motherly.)"
Being locked away as I was, I cupped, hefted, and caressed mom's jutting bust line. Sympathetic to the deprivations that I had been wrongly subjected to, she said not a word in protest. She felt her nipples gently pop, then throb until they prominently pushed out the micro thin material of the blouse. I openly stared, mesmerized, almost drooling. I caressed those erect nipples, as mom closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure, a first for the two of us. It had been so long, though, for both of us.
The crude, worn out prison issue underwear that I wore was more like a strap than jockeys at this point. And now, as I got hard for the 1st time in months, you could hear, clearly in that small but stone silent trailer, that strap stretching, stretching the material. Finally, a tear, a release, and my magnificent tool had broken free, rising above the prison pants, above my navel, and only stopping just below my chest. A full eleven inches of manhood finally came forth from a mature, virile, supercharged, prison hunk. It could easily have stayed under my prison shirt, but fate had it erect in plain view. Mom's eyes grew like saucers, almost like those eyes in the cartoons that blow up like balloons.
She only said: "God forgive me, Jimmy!" Without further ado, her shaking hands gripped that mighty love pole, one hand gripping the lengthy pole, keyholing it to its ultimate release. Her other motherly hand lovingly cupped and hefted my manly sac, weighted down with months and months of pent-up cream.
All of those dreams of women from TV and the movies, never thinking of mom (cause it would be wrong.) Only later did I realize that those odd dreams I had that left me with 'morning wood', dreams of a vision of blond sex appeal, those dreams were of my very own mom...
As mom's hands sensed their duty, their mission, the upper hand became a blur of motion, determined to release her baby's pent-up passion. As the huge uncut head of my cock started to swell, she knew that she had to find somewhere to put it all. No way was she going to try and deepthroat six months of pent-up passion. Desperate, she saw an empty, washed out milk bottle, one with the old—timey wide mouth opening.
At the last moment, she steered my magnificent cock into that bottle. The power of my release, those powerful blasts of sperm-laden semen, almost knocked the bottle out of her hand. Splash, splash, splash, my eleven inch white mamba kept spitting. It took fully two minutes of uninterrupted ejaculating to release the enormous spend.
After we both caught our breath, mom was staggered; the milk bottle was a quart and it was virtually full now. I didn't even take notice that she did not immediately pour out that goop down the drain of that tiny sink in the trailer. Instead, she lightly kissed the bottle, restoring its plastic seal, and gently placed it into the tiny college boy fridge.