I feel like I should start this off with one of those dear Penthouse type salutations but there is no way that such a lame publication would ever print this message. I actually can not imagine that I could ever bring myself to release my shameful revelations to be posted anywhere but I still need to reconstruct the event of these past few weeks just so that I can come to turns with my new life in my own mind.

It might seem odd that I should even risk putting these thoughts down at all. It would be a wiser course of action to have these types of 'circumstances' that I am involved in remain as a family secret, but the shameful silence is more then I can continue to bear... [yeah... that's my reason]

The proposed truth is that I need to risk self-examining the recent events of my life strictly to allow me to come to terms with this remarkable and uniquely troublesome arrangement that I have found myself caught up in with my son, Michael. I am supposedly scarcely able to comprehend that I would ever risk the assured scandal that a public airing of this shockingly inappropriate form of motherly-love would generate, but I believe it might be the prudent course of action to proceed with the knowledge that it may become possible for these following thoughts and literal recreations to fall into the purview of public domain for your reading pleasures. Towards this end let me take a short paragraph or two to establish myself and my son so we may all have some common reference points for a more cohesive understanding of what I am needing to have lived through these past several weeks and what my life will now be like into the foreseeable future.

I guess it might prove beneficial to any second party reading this to have a name to attach to all these words For rather self-evident reasons, I am hesitant to risk attaching my family name to this work at all, even despite my having no intentions to ever willingly share it with another human soul. [yeah... right] I operate under the principals of the Omega Factor and allow for every end possibility so I will allow myself to be identified only by my given name of Leta. I have always thought of myself first as a loving and devoted wife, mother and homemaker, and then as a good and Christian woman. I thought that the laws of nature should have been on by side and I would have received only as I had given but that has not been the case at all. [hmm, methinks the lady doth protesth to much]

Yikes This has started off awfully presumptuous and a little dry. I can't believe that should be a concern of mine but why am I continuously growing in my expectations that I may release this as one of those porn stories? [give it up girl... You are going to be trying to have everyone cumming in their shorts in just the next few paragraphs so why all this bullshit pretense?] Surely, I could not have been corrupted to that degree yet. I mean heaven knows I had ample experiences in my lifetime to turn even the holiest of saints into a two-bit crack whore but I want to describe myself physically as though this was a filthy, perverted sex story just to see what it might be like.

Okay, I stand 5'2'' and weigh a very tiny 104 pounds. My measurements are a very compact and tight 36-24-34. My tits are nice and extra firm so I could easily get away going braless at any given time if modesty permitted. My nipples seem to be almost constantly erect although I am not my normal standards, an excessively lustful or randy woman. I admit that I am getting a slight kick out of this sexualized visual recreation of myself, but it almost embarrasses me to continue on with the addition that my ass is absolutely fantastic and simply attracts me a considerable amount of hands-on-attention, if you know what I mean.

As for my most private of sexual treasures, I can say that is still seems to be tight enough to please my husband and he is barely five inches if I would measure from the back of his balls. [ohmygod Did I write that? Am I going to leave it in? *S!*] I keep myself trimmed nice but I don't go around showing it so people can only guess as to my natural hair color. [yeah I like to add a little highlight.

I just like to look good. My face is still as fresh as a fourteen year old's. My legs are so sculpted and I just know I am the bomb as they say. Maybe I have been a little too proud in my looks over the years But I can not except that I have done anything to warrant the type of sexual attention that I have attracted simply because I have enjoyed packaging myself in the occasional skimpily little slipover top, or a pair of skintight, hip-hugging acid-washed jeans. Sure, I guess the odd impartial observer may have had cause to possibly mind-fuck me or even press up against me in some crowd and half-molest me or something, but the actual full scale rapes have just gone too far and the recent sexual enslavement to my own kid.

Oh I guess the secret is out, huh? It looks weird just written like that all by its lonesome So matter-of-factly. No explanations No excuses, yet. God Why am I doing this? Maybe I will know by the time I am done. Maybe I will delete this all with my next keystroke.

My son raped me. Me his mother and he is treating me as though I will be his sex-slave forever. I allowed it I mean I had no choice the first time, but why didn't I tell his Dwayne, my husband? It was all so weird but where did it all start?

My own childhood and my first rape? Perhaps but my folks spent a small fortune with the shrinks to deal with that one so it serves no purpose for this introspective. In that regards, I believe I can similarly dismiss the second time I was raped at the homecoming dance. Sure it was my first time with black cock but the event left me neither emotionally scarred nor fertilized with child.

It is with those last two measuring sticks as my beacons that I narrow the beginning of my story of shame to the incident which occurred the day prior to my wedding where I suffered my third and [until that point] most humiliating raping. The circumstances were ridiculously contrived in their formulaic construction and may require a momentary suspension of disbelief as I reconstruct the scenario.

The bad guy in this little drama would be the man that fathered my child, one Tyrone 'T-Bone' Jackson. The guy had just bought into my husband's car dealership. Actually, my husband had only just sunk his family inheritance to pick up a forty percent stake in the successful FERRARI dealership, when his supposed partner suddenly sold out to T-Bone.

Now, my husband never tried to let his southern upbringing influence him in business, but T-Bone just totally took over the dealership from day one and quickly replaced all the white employees with his friends and family. All Dwayne could do was start looking for someone to dump his part of the partnership off on, but he had other things on his mind too such as his upcoming marriage to his child bride [me.]

So, all the ducks were in a row to be knocked down and that is exactly what I was, on my ass when T-Bone came busting in my house to secure himself a one-upmanship on his business rival. It is humiliating to realize that me and my fertile womb were no more then a spiteful business ploy for the ruthless black man, but maybe he did desire me somewhat for my hot body. The sex was just so slam-bam I certainly never received no thank you ma'am. T-Bone just told me that he hoped Dwayne did not go broke on the diaper bills as he was sure he had seeded twins in me at the least. [Yes, I made the mistake of telling the brute that I had been hoping to conceive with my husband.]

Anyhow, I summed things up and decided I could only spoil the wedding my mentioning anything so their I was walking the isle less then fourteen hours later with what turned out to be not-so-little Michael already planted firmly in my white tummy. I knew I had to be sure, so even though Dwayne and I had planned to conceive on our wedding night, I changed my woman's prerogative and made my lawful husband use condoms all during the honeymoon in addition to my use of a diaphragm. I can only imagine that Dwayne may have thought it was a bit of overkill, but the precaution paid off when I took my first home pregnancy test at the conclusion of our honeymoon and got the confirmation. I guess I had already known as I had practically lived in the bath room over the final few days, but the bunny dying made it official.

Dwayne nearly freaked when I told him. His first reaction was to call me a slut. That hurt. He tried to insist that I get an abortion but I just tore into him and let him know in no uncertain terms that all life was precious and human life was most precious of all. I think Dwayne may have thought about dropping some more colorful language on me but he fortunately thought better of it and so began the remainder of the nine months of baby making that culminated with the arrival of my bouncing bundle of sunshine, Michael.

I so named the child as a miracle baby, because despite the rich, deep chocolate hue of his true father's skin, my boy child is at worst, a lightly tanned shade of white. His features are all classically Nordic, and the only telltale physical proof of his proud African heritage would be his rather impressive penis size.

My first instincts will probably always be to refer to Michael as my little boy. The truth is he was never that little. I almost wonder if you can still here my screams of childbirth reverberating around the country. I was so happy with my child despite his origins, and then when I saw how light he was, I was delirious. I think Dwayne had been considering an annulment, but even he was able to accept my child when he saw how beautiful and light he was.

We were fiscally stuck in the car dealership for four years during which time I had to keep myself on the pill constantly to prevent T-Bone from fathering any little brothers or sisters for Michael. I stayed quiet during this time, not because I liked the black cock, but simply because I had made an arrangement with T-Bone that I would pleasure him several times a week and he would ease up on my husband and not prevent a sale of out part of the partnership. T-Bone tried to pressure me into breeding for him again and even confiscated my pills a few dozen times, but I was not about to do that to my husband again no matter how much I longed for a little sibling for my darling son.

Hmm I think these past several paragraphs might lead one to question my moral character. I just wanted to be a good wife and mother. I kept my affair with T-Bone as discrete as possible and ended it almost cold turkey when my husband finally unloaded his share of the FERRARI dealership. The truth is I was extremely happy to be leaving T-Bone behind and am very, very happy that I have only needed to let him fuck me nine times these past two years. I wished I could cut him off completely but as long as he kept those videos of me, I was in such a precarious situation.

So it was that T-Bone and me were doing the nasty when I think my little boy must have caught us last month. There, I did it again, Michael is not really a little boy any longer. At nearly 6'0'' even and a very solid 135 pounds, the kid has considerable size and strength advantages over me. I guess the signs that my kid was becoming a man have been prevalent for a while my panties being filled and stained with fresh sperm my bedroom door opening at the most inopportune moments he even had the video camera twice before I smartened up enough to keep it secured in my closet.

Still, I can not blame my boy if seeing mommy fucking with big, black Tyrone Jackson and moaning my fool head off in a most vocal little orgasm as the stud called me every filthy name in the book, may have just colored my son's opinion of me just a little and skewed his desires from the harmless child pranks that he had been pulling up to the full scale assault and battery that he perpetrated on me for the very first time the very next day.

I had not been able to quite bring myself to face my son that preceding evening. The truth was, that I was more then a little concerned that the kid would blab to dad and there I would be out on my unfaithful white ass like the cheating gutter trash I felt like. I had only allowed myself to be coerced and compromised to serve the interests of my family and not at all if I may have also received some small form of pleasure from my dark adventures.

I did, however, feel some guilt and so it was that I found myself in the bathroom, preparing to take a shower in the feeble hopes that it might somehow cleanse my filthy conscious, when I heard the door crack open. I knew that my son was the only one home with me so I tried not to overreact as I continued to strip naked for my shower. My heart was pounding as I just knew my son was running the videotape to record my little tease. I could hear the gears of the machine I just could not believe how brazen my son was acting, but nothing in my wildest imagination could have prepared me for the shocking events that would soon fill that morning.

I guess it was foolish of me to unzip my pants and pull of my T-shirt while my son watched, but my logic was to give the kid enough time to shoot his cum so I could take my bath in peace. I began to fill the tub as I moved to pose in the mirror and begin absent-mindedly tweaking and fondling my own breasts and nipples so that I could facilitate my child's sexual release and proceed with my own cleansing. I heard Michael's breath become more labored and assumed that his load had been spent on the outside of the door so it would be safe to proceed with stepping out of my panties and that is when the door suddenly flew open and their stood not-so-little Michael with his still raging nine-inch erection that wanted nothing but mom cunt!!!

I was totally taken by surprise and unable to mount any better defense then to leave my panties uselessly stretched across my knees as I mindlessly attempted to cover up my tits??? I mean why get weird about my tits which the kid had milked as a baby when I was standing there with my forbidden treasure between my legs on full display? I suppose it would have proven inconsequential what I had attempted to cover anyhow because my boy wanted the whole package and was more then man enough to take it.

I remember saying something pathetic like "Michael No! I'm your mom." My little bastard just laughed at me and simply instructed, "Don't be stupid you little cunt and you won't get hurt."

So much for the privileges of motherhood. All the years of brownie baking and kissing scraped knees and scaring away the boogie men at night had earned me nothing but a couple hours of getting bitch-slapped into submission and then having my brains totally fucked out.

I guess T-Bone had coached the boy the previous night when I had been to humiliated to give the kid my side of the story. For all Michael knew, I was a willing little slut and wanted to always be treated rough. I guess T-Bone had played a tape where I took a beating and Mikey had wanted to recreate my 'favorites' according to that awful production.

Michael skillfully and forcefully took a handful of my long, dark hair and slammed my head back into the wall. I just moaned helplessly, temporarily stunned as my son continued to educate me to my inescapable fate. "Mom, I am going to fuck your body with my big cock in your mouth, and in your cunt, and even up your tight little ass. I know what a dirty fuck you are so don't act innocent anymore and don't even think about crying cause I won't care. T-Bone told me that he bred me into you and he wants me to breed you again. I want it too mom. You are going to have my baby even if I have to beat you into total fucking submission. You can't ever tell dad or he will leave you. T-Bone gave me videos of you slut so dad will know what a whore you are."

The words hurt me worse then the slaps across my face that the boy rained upon me until I finally accepted that he meant every syllable It had all seemingly occurred so fast that morning from the day before even dating back to that fateful first encounter with Tyrone, it seemed less then a blink of an eye since I had first got my baby, and not some thirteen years as had passed until suddenly, my kid was treating mom just like dear old dad had on the eve of my wedding.

Maybe the world was never meant to be fair, or maybe I was atoning for some past life sins I knew not what I could ever have done to deserve the humiliation of being forced into becoming my own kids sex-slave, but I had to be reasonable and accept the inevitable. "Please don't hurt mommy, Michael. I will do whatever you say. You can be my master and I will be your white-trash mommy-fuck."

Things seemed to blur from one image into another as that first morning progressed. It was quickly apparent that the video my kid had been watching in the entertainment room had been one of my slave-slut specials which his real daddy T-Bone had given him. I had slutted myself to that Animal for thirteen years just to maintain some respectability for my family and this was the betrayal I suffered It is almost enough to make me apply for a handgun license. Obviously, I have bigger problems now and that is not some tongue in cheek reference to Michael actually being slightly thicker then T-Bone.

I can't believe I am writing this now I know that I am going to post this as a stroke story and allow myself to be humiliated and shamed for the world to laugh at. Perhaps I should just tell everyone that my last name is Kar no not yet maybe not ever.

Some things should remain clouded in mystery even if I can shine the light of revelation upon all the filthy acts of depravity that I was forced to perform with and had performed upon by my son.

Perhaps, the filthiest of these acts of depravity was the very first one orchestrated as my son roughly maneuvered me over to the family toilet. I was in a state of almost horror, as my misadventures with T-Bone had educated me greatly on the humiliation potential of what a session of human-toilet could produce. To take that level of degradation from my own cherished flesh and blood would surly prove too much to endure.

Michael actually giggled as he maintained his forceful grip of my hair and pushed my face don into the filthy porcelain bowl until my face hit the water. My kid tried to use me as a plunger as he pulled up and then pushed back down to drive my face again and again into the filthy toilet bowl He said, "clean it mommy Clean it you slut That is your job mommy, now clean the toilet where I shit in with your fucking tongue."

Yeah, my son had watched the video where I had played human toilet for T-Bone and now he was going to use me as his very own mommy toilet.

"Please No" I could barely get two words in edge wise as I was forcibly half-drowned in the families toilet bowl until I guess I finally went limp enough where my kid knew I was ready for use and pulled me back up Any last faint hope that I had guessed wrong on my bastard brat's intentions were quickly eradicated as he twisted me around by the hair so that my back was to the porcelain bowl so he could force my head tilted back with my neck stretched so he could bring the seat back down across it and kneel his weight down to further choke me as he began by taking his morning piss.

"Open your mouth, mommy-toilet," my boy giggled as he aimed his rock hard big, dark cock at my face and began to piss. I had been taught by his real daddy that a proper little human urinal keeps her mouth open and flushes as it fills, so I just did it almost as in instinct. My son tasted just like dear old dad. I just piss is piss maybe?

"Drink my pee mom From now on it is your favorite drink you cheating cunt or I tell dad on you and you get kicked out right on your unfaithful white ass mom T-Bone told me that when Dwayne worked at the car dealership, you used to go right to the garage and fuck all the black mechanics and then go say hello to your 'husband' with all that cum running down your legs from your freshly fucked cunt."

It pained me to here Michael disrespect his father by calling him by his first name. Dwayne had been so good to accept the boy all those years ago and had grown to love him as if he was his own. Dwayne would have laid down his life for the boy [oops, is that one of those Freudian slips?]

Maybe I had gone and fucked the garage and the sales staff and customers even back at the FERRARI dealership but it was all for Dwayne It never once was about me. Sometimes it was like almost too much cock each time and I barely liked it. When T-Bone insisted that I come take a job as Dwayne's receptionist, it was only a trick so I could serve my black master even more flauntingly behind my husband's back. I just couldn't believe that Dwayne would never come into T-Bone's wide open office to check on me as I took my daily dictation I mean I practically lived on my knees under that big oak desk of T-Bone's and usually, nearly had lock law by the end of the day of taking my oral dictation and doing my best to help T-Bone close his special deals with his homies from the hood.

Maybe Dwayne did always know but was just not man enough to do anything about it I mean his dick was so small that nothing would have surprised me eventually? Maybe I could have tried to have stood up to my son and called his bluff on threatening to tell Dwayne that I was still taking sperm shots from T-Bone every time he could find time to come visit us and that week holiday getaway I had last fall had all been spent partying with T-Bone and the boys of FERRARI?

I guess I could have at least thought about standing up to my son, but as he knelt his wait down onto the seat across my neck, all I could do was try to flush and swallow his piss down like a good little urinal.

"Drink it all mommy. You are my new toilet and next time I am going to shit in your mouth too and you will flush won't you bitch or I will tell dad on you. You are black-'maled' now mom." [spelling intended]

I guess my son really had me and boy did he ever use me. He pulled me up by the hair after he got done shaking his piss off on my face. His cock looked so enlarged, that I just knew he wanted some relief, and sure enough, the pressure at the back of my head forced me straight into my girlie duty of doing some TLC to his d-i-c-k.

I had not sucked my son's cock in over seven years and he had grown a lot in that time. Michael was easily twice the size of my Dwayne [and as I previously mentioned, even slightly larger then T-Bone] as my talented mouth soon discovered. Who needs a tape-measure when a girl can use the gag-factor to know just what she has choking her on its way between her lipstick kissers, through her wet, willing mouth, and finally penetrating even her tight constrictive throat.

My son was insisting on nothing short of deep-throat city and this time mommy had no option to refuse my brats demands.

"Dad said you can do it, mom He said you were the finest white trash 'ho' he ever pimped in the hood. Show me mommy I want to see my deep-throat, cock-sucker mom get me ball deep."

If I would have had a clever little quip to comeback to my foul-mouthed kid, all I could have done is choked it out because that was all that I was doing of anything as my son was very eager to get deep-throat accomplished well before I had any chance to relax and accept it. Still, 'if the round hole does not want to accept the square peg then just push it in harder,' would have been my son's motto that day, and then there I was with nine long, thick inches of my baby in my mouth.

Michael held me tight and let me flail and strangle on his big cock as it cut off my airway It was everything I could do to keep myself from convulsing and accidentally biting down. The kid had a real sadistic streak to him and I was even started to wonder when he finally released me and let me fall unceremoniously to the floor. I just laid there gasping for breath at my kids feet as he finally reached down to grab my hair for the fateful drag down the hall and to my bed to show me just how he now 'loved' mommy.

It was so surreal as I was dragged behind my kid to the stairwell. I thought about telling the brat that I would get up and walk, but I knew he wanted to recreate the video that asshole T-Bone had given him, so I had to let Michael drag me up the stairway one rung at a time. It hurt like hell and the tears were real even as I tried to make things a little easier on myself by cheat crawling a couple stairs. It was almost a godsend when we finally made it to the bedroom and I got flung into my own marital bed.

Can you read that??? I actually was grateful that my son was raping me in my own bed. FUCK.

I guess the kid was pretty good. If it was his first time he must have studied stud daddy's tapes real good because my kid had mommy curling her toes and cumming all over his big hard cock before he finally gasped himself and pumped his third load into my totally fucked raw cunt. I really needed a break and told him, "Three loads Michael god you were horny for mommy-cunt, huh? Even with my pill protection, I think three loads might be enough to overcome and conquer one of my poor little helpless eggs are you ready to be a daddy to your own little brother or sister?"

"T-Bone told me that you used to always sneak off behind his back and get more birth-control mom, but I can watch you around the clock so starting today, you are going unprotected until I breed you."

"Dwayne won't be very happy Remember you are half-black honey child, so your little bastard in mommy could be a throwback."

"Don't worry about Dwayne mom T-Bone took out a nice big insurance package on him."

Yikes Don't want to know about that kid so you and T-Bone just do whatever is necessarily You better act fast though as I can't hide all these disgraceful tattoos you have branded me with much longer and just how many times is that fool Dwayne going to believe me that I fell down the steps like some stupid little girl to explain away all these bruises you like to slap to me?

Yeah I guess I am now down with just about everything so if the dogs next door need a few bones to chew on then. Okay, whatever Maybe I can even play the black widow and make the phone call that brings 'honey' home for you bad boys? Sometime like faked phone sex where Dwayne thinks I am doing it pretend and can't believe how lifelike the cock-sucking and pussy-plunging sounds are? Then when he thinks he is in for the treat, he leaves work to come home and get the trick. Hmm... Halloween is soon Can we wait? I should be showing with your child by then Michael I am going to be a grandmother. Yikes *S!*