You Couldn’t Handle Me Ch. 06

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(This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author’s consent. For fans of my stories, they know what kinds of things to expect. This story deals with similar themes as the stories by wannabeboytoy, seducedHylas, and Dark Betrayal, namely cheating, betrayal, and heartbreak. If stuff like that isn’t your cup of tea, then you probably shouldn’t bother reading it.

A few warnings before going forward. This story is a little different than my others, taking a different approach than I usually do, though at the end of the day, it veers more towards the type of story you have all come to know and expect from me. But, all the same general themes are present, with all my typical hallmarks. But this is a teasing story, and in my opinion, that type of story needs a slow build. So this complete story is quite long, practically novel-length, so keep that in mind. This story will be released in smaller chunks to make it more manageable.

This story is split in 8 parts of varying lengths. Not all of them will have sex, but some will, but don’t worry, the high-level of sexual tension will be consistent throughout. Some parts of this story have action, and some have that dreaded back-story and character building. So, if you just want to get to the sex scenes, you might have to skip around a bit. But, I think the full story is the best way to consume this.

On top of all the other themes I stated before, this is an incest-themed story, if that’s not already clear. This is a mother-son series featuring a big-titted, sexy mother and a studly, big-dicked son. If that is not your favorite flavor of mother-son story, by all means walk away. I just want to state again I do not condone any of the actions within this story in real life. This is just a story. Enjoy.)


Chapter 8: Mom and Dad


I closed my eyes, maintained my focus and controlled my breathing. I let any stray thoughts drift away, focusing on the task at hand. I exhaled coolly, letting the air blow out through my slightly parted, smooth lips.

I sat in the lotus position in the exercise room, my ass planted on a yoga mat. I had done yoga for a few years now, and I had gotten pretty good. I started out taking yoga classes at the gym, but I got tired of having to work off of others’ schedules, so once I got good enough, I started doing it at home, on my own time. And someone had to put the exercise room to good use. Now that Tom was out of the house, I didn’t want all this equipment to go to waste.

Exercise and body fitness were my favorite pastimes. Some women liked to shop, some liked to tan, some like to knit or sew, some liked to read. I liked to stay fit. I mean, sure, I liked most of those other things too. Like, what woman doesn’t love shopping? But exercise was my absolute favorite thing to do.

Well, my second favorite thing, maybe…

Working out, or doing yoga, it kept me focused. It helped me keep my thoughts in order, my impulses under control. You see, I had a bit of a problem with impulse control. And I knew what kind of trouble I could get into if I didn’t control myself.

I extended my right leg out, stretching it out before bending forward, placing my forehead against my knee. As I felt the burn in my stretched back, I felt the bottom of my stretchy red exercise top pull up my back, and the hem of my black stretchy exercise pants pull down. I held my bare foot with my hands and held this pose.

I used to be controlled by my impulses. But looking back at how my youth went, I think it’s hard for anyone to really blame me.

For the longest time, I didn’t realize I was considered beautiful. Honest. It might come across a bit ditzy or fake to say that, but it’s the truth. My parents and other people said that they knew I’d be trouble from a young age. At first, I didn’t know what they meant by that, but looking back, those people had no idea what I was capable of doing.

I was a pretty normal child. I was a nice, sweet young girl, a good student and friendly to all. But those innocent feelings of youth transformed once I hit puberty.

I felt like I got hit harder than anyone I knew by that period of growth in my life. My body went into overdrive seemingly overnight as I was bombarded by hormones. Suddenly, I was a foot and a half taller and I was wearing a DD bra. My hormones were out of control. I remember looking around at my classmates and wondering why they weren’t being driven as insane as I was. I could barely control myself. I became OBSESSED with boys, and my body craved constant satisfaction just so I could think straight. At first, that attention came from myself, obviously, and I paid a lot of attention to myself. I had this constant thirst that needed to be slaked, and I did the best I could to slake it. And it’s not like that desire ever went away. I still feel as overcharged now as a woman in her 40’s as I did in my teenage years. I just got a lot better at hiding it.

My parents were tipobet365 g├╝venilirmi relatively religious and conservative, so at first I felt ashamed at how overwhelming my sexual needs were. The way I felt was very much contrary to the things I was raised to believe in. I tried my best to control those urges, but that was like fighting a tidal wave. These desires weren’t going to be stopped. They simply needed to be dealt with.

I rolled over smoothly onto my belly before leaning back into the upward facing dog pose. The weight of my large breasts hung down in front of me, forcing me to work harder. My massive breasts stretched my top, testing its tensile strength.

It took a while for me to get used to all the attention I began to receive once my body filled out, to realize that these boys liked me as more than a friend. I was very naïve at the time, clearly, and it took a long time for me to accept the fact that all men reacted that way around me. And I recently confirmed that this was absolutely true. ALL men react that way around me.

I was still pretty na├»ve at the time, like I said, so any jealously girls felt towards me at the time was disarmed by my friendly, warm personality. I didn’t know any better. Despite my body, I was still very innocent. I didn’t realize my body had inadvertently placed me into the very adult game of sexual competition. I was still friendly and likeable, and this, combined with the fact that boys were flocking around me, had a startling effect. Girls came to me, wanting to learn my trade secrets. I didn’t have any secret at the time, but that didn’t dissuade them. It reached the point where even girls began to flock around me, wanting to be my friend, and be on the receiving end of the attention I got. I became popular without even trying.

It took me awhile to realize I was different. Boys would keep telling I was hotter than any of the other girls my age. While barely trying, I became well connected with the elite cliques and social circles of girls in school, and I always went to the best parties. It took me a while realize that none of the other girls were having the same experience I was. It took a while for me to see the way people would treat me, how they would do anything I wanted to gain my approval. Boys would preen and pose for me, and girls would include me in any juicy gossip. People would get nervous around me, even adults.

It took me awhile to realize the power I had.

I got on my hands and feet and arched my back, assuming the downward facing dog position, my breasts weighing me down again. I exhaled evenly as beads of sweat dripped down my forehead

The knowledge of the power I had went to my head. Not that I became a huge, cocky bitch or anything like that. No, I was still typically friendly and positive, but I began to realize I could do whatever I wanted and get whatever I wanted. I could get away with just about anything. I had power. I was superior. At first, I never really took advantage of this fact, even though there were times where I had to suppress my darker urges. Like, when there was a boy that I wanted that was interested in someone else, and I just wanted to scream out that I was way hotter than that other girl. Like, just look at my body! I was able to suppress those flashes of arrogance, but they had a way of bleeding out anyway. I liked seeing the boys play for my attention. I liked seeing the other girls get so desperate for my approval.

I liked to make people dance for me.

I tested my limits. Like I said, I was never cruel or callous. But I liked seeing how far boys would go for me. I liked to see them want to spend money on me, make them break their bank account. I liked seeing them try to be cool and smooth.

And I looked to push boy’s limits in the bedroom.

I was the type of girl who was good at everything she did. I used to dance ballet, but that stopped when my breasts came in. I used to play the violin and I easily made first chair. And that natural talent extended to the bedroom.

I got very, very good at sex very, very quickly. My na├»ve nature and innocence began to fall by the wayside once I lost my virginity. My growing popularity allowed me to handpick the boy I had lost my virginity to, an older boy, a senior at the school. Even in my first, fumbling attempts, I held up my end of the bargain. My natural urges took over and helped me perform until my desires were quenched. And I thought that was how it was supposed to go. Fuck till we pass out, fuck till we’re completely spent. But, as I soon realized, that was not the case. It was more along the lines of ‘fuck till the guy is done and leaves me needing more’. Just as I was working up to my stride, these guys were all finished. At first, I thought it was due to my advanced experience and talents at sex. But each and every time it ended the same. Me, desperate for more, with the guy wiped out beneath me. They would beg me to slow down and take my time. Some guys wanted to just ‘make tipobet365 yeni giri┼č love.’ But honestly, I just wanted to fuck. I wanted it nice and hard. Outside of the bedroom, I was still nice and friendly and sweet. In the bedroom… I went a little crazy.

Some of the more jealous girls called me a slut. But I really wasn’t a slut. Well, maybe I was a bit of a slut. I was more than likely the most experienced girl in my graduating class. By the time most girls were beginners, I was already an expert. I knew how to flirt. I knew how to read the signs. I knew how to seduce. I had my fair share of boyfriends who I was happy to put out for. But I didn’t just put out for any guy. I mean, I dated all shapes and sizes of guys if they interested me, but none of these guys were never really anything beyond a brief fling. Some guys interested me cause I thought they had potential in the bedroom. Some were cause I simply liked them as a person. But, all these relationships fizzled. I could not get over not being able to find a guy able to keep up with me. I needed more. I needed to find my match.

I got used to hearing the embarrassing apologies from guys. They said I was too hot. Too good at sex. They couldn’t help but lose control in a flash. It happened every time with every guy. I began to realize this was the curse of my beauty. And the most disheartening thing was I had chosen from what I thought was the best of the best. Guys were so willing to do anything for me that I literally had my pick of the litter. And still, I would fuck circles around these guys. I got used to being sweet and understanding with these guys when they let me down, but hiding my disappointment became harder and harder. I stopped being so nice and sweet.

I just wanted one guy to take me and fuck the mother-fucking shit out of me! Was that too much to ask? Behind the bravado and posturing, all these guys couldn’t match up when it counted. My needs were overflowing, and I needed relief.

My tastes became a bit harsher, more rough and depraved. I became more impatient with my high school lovers, demanding more, until it finally reached the point where I had to swear off high school guys altogether. Even the best of the best, the cocky jocks with their big, throbbing dicks, even they weren’t enough. I needed more. By the time I graduated high school, the thought of a high school guy keeping up with me was laughable. My needs were as demanding as ever, my breasts just did not stop growing, and my body had filled out in every way. When I turned 18, I was no longer a girl. I was all woman. And I realized I was too much woman for any mere high school guy.

I stood up and got in the warrior pose, my breathing controlled, my thoughts focused, a bead of sweat dripping down my cleavage.

I went nuts at college. I mean, like, legit nuts. College guys were SUCH a better match for me than the boys at high school. But even saying that, they could not keep up. Sure, they hung in there a lot longer, but by the end of the action with a college guy, I was still aching for more. It was still the same story as in high school. Them, begging me to slow down, to not be so rough, so demanding. They wanted me to ‘take it easy’ on them. I refused to go easy. I craved more, but my search proved elusive.

I got DP’d by a pair of frat guys a month into college, and even then, by the end, they were the ones who could barely stand, and I was the one screaming at them to man up and fuck me till I screamed. But they were too worn out to even try. These guys, hot guys who no doubt had dozens of easy college girls in their beds, dozens of girls to practice on, even those guys weren’t ready for me. If they weren’t enough for me, who was?

I did everything. I fucked frat guys, freshmen, a professor, I even fucked my roommate’s dad. I experienced a little of everything, vainly in search of the one guy who could meet my needs. There had to be one person out there for me, my perfect match. I just had to find him.

My needs got more demanding. I craved it in every hole, as hard as possible. I wanted to be treated like the slut I was. I wanted a guy to make me drunk with orgasms. I wanted a guy to make me spasm, to make me lose control. I wanted a guy to make me squirt my girl cum all over the place. I wanted a guy to be able to dig in, man up, and really fuck me!

This search made me into a different person. I used to be a friendly, positive, warm young woman. That girl was gone. I was becoming an arrogant, dismissive, haughty, demanding slut. I discounted others just so I could have my own pleasure. I cast aside good friends just to indulge my obsession with men. I was happy to fuck a guy with a girlfriend, or a wife. I had no limits. I didn’t care who I hurt. I was demolishing people everywhere I went. Besides that, I was partying way too hard, drinking way too much, and even dabbling in drugs once or twice. I was travelling down a very dangerous road. My tastes were getting nastier, my demands were tipobet365 g├╝venilirmi increasing, my self-control slipping away, and my impatience was overflowing. Something had to give.

Then I got pregnant.

Jay was a cute guy I had a few classes with. He was fit and firm and cute, but I wasn’t looking for that by the point I met him. I wanted to get reamed, and while Jay was a catch by most girls’ standards, he was never anything but a friend to me.

I ran into him at a party, and I was craving some action. There were no other interesting guys there, and I knew Jay was smitten with me, so I dragged him back to my place. And he was good. I mean, he didn’t keep up with me, obviously, but he was fine, just… not enough for me. And I was so overcharged that he at least granted me temporary relief. It was just a one-night fling. I knew that, and so did he.

Then he knocked me up.

The thing was, he wore protection. Jay was wearing a condom when it happened, but I guess it split apart during the action. Part of me wondered if he knew the condom had broken, and maybe he just got lost in the moment, or if it truly was an accident. But the damage was done. I was preggers, and it was the sign I needed.

Something had to change. Getting pregnant made me wonder for my future. I had always been told I would be a star my whole life. I came to school for drama, so I could learn to be an actress. All the directors and professors there affirmed the feeling that I had a big future ahead of me. I also modeled, and they told me I had a bright future there too, though I suspected they were hoping I would do a very specific type of modeling. But when the drama teachers and the modeling agency found out I was knocked up, I suddenly became a lot less interesting to them. I had nowhere else to go but go forward with this pregnancy. That became my future.

Jay was a good man. Very sweet and good hearted. He had a bit of bravado to him, but I kinda liked that in a guy. He clearly had a future, his heart was in the right place and he had a good head on his shoulders. He was totally there for me when I told him I was pregnant and he was excited when he said we would be in this together. Jay was everything a girl could ask for, but I had to convince myself he was right for me. I didn’t have that raw animal attraction for him that I had for other guys. He was a genuine, good-hearted guy, but I tended to prefer the bad boys. But even the bad boys had led me to disappointment, cause even though the sex was great, it became clear that they were bad boys for good reason. Maybe I needed to change my tastes. It was that thought that led me to accepting Jay’s proposal of marriage, and we were married soon after.

I became a mother to Tom a few months after the wedding, and my life truly did change. Looking at him, knowing this little boy was made from me, was part of me and was my responsibility, I vowed to be a good mother. I vowed more than anything to cast aside my actions of the past and grow up. This was my purpose in life. This was my future.

Becoming a mother was the best thing that could have happened to me. It forced me to evolve. To change. My search for my match, a lover equal to me, was turning me into something I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to be the dismissive, arrogant, self-centered narcissist. I didn’t want to be so scheming and callous to others. I didn’t want to parade my body in front of girls, making it clear to everyone around that they were inadequate to me. I didn’t want to make fun of girls to their boyfriends’ faces. As hot as all that sounded, as hot as that all was, it had to stop. I was a mother now. Not a slut. I couldn’t be the sex-crazed nympho anymore. I had to be better.

Jay provided me a good life so I never had to work. At first, I dreaded this future. Mere months prior, I had dreams of being a big star in Hollywood or on the cover of magazines. Now, my future was being a housewife, and I couldn’t help but be disappointed at this prospect. It felt like an incredible letdown after living my whole life as if I was meant to be something special. Maybe it was karma for my bad behavior and being unable to control my needs, letting them run rampant over me and letting them control my actions. The idea of being a doting wife, cleaning the house, being in a fucking book club with the neighborhood wives, it sounded like the ultimate penalty to me.

But maybe it was for the best. I was traveling down a dark road. If I ended up in Hollywood, going the way I was going, that could have ended very badly for me. My urges were running so out of control that I could totally imagine losing myself in the glitz and glamor. Indulging my narcissism and forever searching for the pleasure I sought among Hollywood’s best and brightest. Going to the best parties, doing hard drugs, and sucking as many cocks as I could get my hands on. With my lack of discipline, a future of fame and power would have destroyed me. So, as much as I hated the idea, being a housewife probably provided me my best possible future. I needed to change, to learn control. To practice discipline. With that being said, there were moments when I thought about what could have been, and that filled me with burning disappointment. Luckily, I was able to suppress those feelings.

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