9 comments/ 75396 views/ 54 favorites Lacrosse Hunk Takes What He Wants By: takecare1212 At school, everyone loves my mom. I'm a senior in high school now, 18, getting ready to graduate, but I've had to put up with it for some time. See, she's one of the high school counselors we have. She went back to school when I was younger, got a job a few years ago, and has been making name for herself ever since. Every year I've watched incoming freshman hi-fiving each other when they see that my mom will be their counselor: "You got Ms. Fisher too? Nice!" It's nauseating, but I can't blame them. She's pretty stunning, and even as her own son, I can admit to as much. When she has on her usual skirt her toned, bronzed legs seem to go on endlessly, and her blouses always border between professional and, well, skanky, so well that I can't even bring myself to criticize her if I wanted to. She knows exactly how to get everyone's attention yet pretend she's just dressing like any other woman (sure, if every other woman had enormous breasts ready spilling out of their tops, and a bouncy ass that wobbled with every step). I love her though, which is why I totally supported it when my best friend, Tyler, got notified that he was to go meet with her. "It's stupid if you ask me," he said as we had lunch before they met. He was shaking his head like the sandwich sitting before him was making him sick. "She'll help you," I said. "I think it's worth it." "Nobody can help me, certainly not your mom." Amber, a pin-up blonde sophomore walked by, winking at Tyler. I could tell it was all he could do to not stand up right then and chase after her. Tyler's the star of the lacrosse team, six-four and pure, thick, granite mass. Every girl wants him, and, with his endless thirst for new action, he's gotten most of them. He even has a full-ride scholarship lined up at our state school at the end of the year — that is, if he can pass his classes. Which is where my mom comes in. "Look," I told him. "She's a guidance counselor for a reason. She knows the easy classes, and the ones that you can pass. I bet she'll line you up with a tutor, too." He shrugged, his eyes still on Amber as she walked off with her friends. "If you say so man," he said. "Whatever gets me out of this shit-hole and onto a college campus I'm game." "You shouldn't shoot low," I said. "You could get into some great schools if you put in the effort." "We're not all meant for the Ivy League," he sighed. "We're not all A+ Andy." That's what they all called me, and although I knew he had some resentment for my smarts, it's not like I didn't have any resentment for his abilities on the field, or with women. Maybe that's why I said what I said next — out of resentment. But I said it anyway. I'd live to regret it. "It's not my fault you've spent your life trying to get into girls pants. Some of us have more to think about than sports and pussy." He looked at me with a smirk, but nodded in agreement, almost sarcastically. "And that's why you're A+ Andy, and I'm not." The bell rang and I watched him off, shaking hands as I said I'd see him up there. I have a free period after lunch, and for an extra credit I deliver notes for the main office, and there's usually a number of trips I have to make to the counselor's office during that time. Sure enough, after a few minutes of twiddling my thumbs, Ms. Anderson handed me a few notes, one for my mom, and one for another one of the counselor's. I headed over to their offices, up a flight of stairs and to the left, and put the notes in their proper boxes. It's one big room, and each counselor has their own individual office within it. I could see Tyler in my mom's office, and although nothing was too off, it was odd how much he was, well, smiling. We have a lot of fun outside school, and we've been friends forever, but when he has school he's never in a good mood, even around me. Suffice to say it was weird to see him grinning ear to ear, the same smile that gets all the girls wound up. He even took off his hat and rubbed his hand through his hair, laughing all along. I thought it wouldn't be too wrong to get a closer look, and the office was pretty empty, as other student's were in class, and the other counselor's room was at the other end of the office, so I inched up closer to the door. I had no worries that they'd see me, as they were so focused on one another. Their voices were clear. "How long have I known you, Tyler?" my mom was asking. "What, ten years?" "That sounds right. And you're no different than you were then. Strong-willed, take what you want . . . it's just that your priorities are a little off. Not everything you want is on the lacrosse field, maybe." "Maybe not everything," he said. It was the way he said it, though. His voice trailed off, and I could almost sense my mom being... enraptured by his words. She was, as usual, wearing a high skirt, and she had one of those thick belts around her waist that pushed her breasts up and together. Her thin waist opened up to her big ass, which perfectly filled in her chair. "You okay, Ms. Fisher?" Tyler asked. "Yeah, yeah, fine. I'm just —" she shook her head, as if snapping out of a trance, and then began to look at her computer screen. "Just trying to think of what classes would be right for you." She was right about one thing — Tyler was strong willed, and willing to take what he wanted, but I was beginning to fear just what that was. Just then, as she was looking away, I noticed what had stolen her attention just moments before — without even saying a word, or making note of it, Tyler had begun fiddling with his jeans. They were tight already, and now I could see the outline of his dick, snaking down the side of his pants. It looked like he was simply adjusting his pants, perhaps rubbing an itchy spot on his groin, but it was clear that the act had drawn my mom's attention, and the attention of his enormous package. I was surprised by how huge it was — but more surprised by what was taking place before me. Tyler had practically grown up in my house, and he knew how close my mom and I were with my father having abandoned us so many years ago. I couldn't believe he was doing what he was doing, and some part of me hoped it was all some sort of joke. "Mr. Robinson is the best algebra two teacher we have, and that's the only math requirement you need for college," my mother was saying. "How about his 9 AM class?" Her tone was business-like and controlled, and I felt a surge of relief that she was trying to call an end to all of this. "9 AM?" Tyler asked, as he rose up. "I don't know, Ms. Tyler. I'll be honest, I'm usually still in the gym by then. Why don't you let me see the schedule so I can see what would work for me." He walked over to my mom and leaned over her chair, and as he did so his hand gently rubbed against her breast, causing a reverberation of her whole chest as he quickly maneuvered to grab the mouse from her hand. "Perhaps it's best if you let me—" "No, it's fine," Tyler said. "Honestly I haven't felt this much interest in my schooling in a long time." This definitely wasn't the Tyler I was used to. No, this was the Tyler playing a role: the Tyler who watched three weeks of Amber's cheerleading performances just to get her into the bed, the Tyler who was willing to act in whatever way that might get him some action. His body hulked over my mother's, and her hand, currently on the arm of her chair, was right at his crotch, where his bulbous penis continued to reveal itself. He stared at the screen, yet I could see that her eyes were only on his dick. I couldn't believe it: my own mother, obsessed with my best friend's package. He continued to stare at the screen, for a moment in silence, and I could see the lust in her eyes, and I was certain that she licked her lips at the sight before her. From my perch outside the door, I almost couldn't hear what Tyler said, but just barely, it got through to me. "Go ahead," it sounded like. "Excuse me?" my mom said, now looking at him, although, with his size, and his leaning over her chair, she was really just looking at his chest. "I said, go ahead." He nodded down at his crotch, and my mom put her hand to her neck, as if in shock, yet she didn't move. "Tyler, I don't know what you're talking about. . . " "I think you do." Just like that Tyler's attitude shifted. His voice was gruff now, and his crouching over her took on an almost animalistic intensity. "You've been looking at me for years, Ms. Fisher. You don't think I see you looking out of your room whenever I get up to take a piss at night when I sleep over?" "I'm going to have to ask you to leave—" "Or how about when I came back drunk and Andy went to sleep and I decided to tug one out. A mirror works both ways, you know." I wanted her to say something. Anything. Yet she just stared up at him, almost in fright. "So go ahead," he said. "No one's looking." At those words he looked straight at me. I was, to say the least, totally frozen in place, a stone statue in the middle of the office. He had the same smug grin on his face he had at lunch when I said life wasn't about pussy — he was one-upping me. I'd fallen for it. And my mom had fallen in the same trap every doe-eyed high school bimbo had fallen for. Her hand rose, slowly, and with a tremble, and without needing another word, she swallowed hard and began unzipping the jeans that stood right above her other arm still resting on the chair. She took her time, and when the zipper was down a swollen mass of meat plopped out of his pants, an uncoiled rope that fell over her forearm and left her breathless. "My word, Tyler," she said. What happened next surprised me. "Now listen," he said. "This is just a taste. If you want more, you'll have to prove it. The stalls on the L wing where they're renovating, you know it?" He gave her no time to respond. "I'm going to walk there now, and you're going to follow me in a few minutes, you understand?" She said nothing, yet I knew in her face, in her wide eyes and blank, sexed expression, that she was accepting his offer. Just as he began to put his dick into his pants I stood up and began walking away. I didn't know what to do. The only thing I knew was that I had to stop it all from happening. I would meet them in the bathroom, I decided — confront them. They were rebuilding a wing of the school, and other than a few painters working in the classrooms, it was totally empty. I got a jump on Tyler and entered the bathroom he was speaking of. I stood right in the middle of the room and waited. When Tyler walked in, I expected him to be shocked by my presence. I felt a heat rise up in me, and I was about to speak — to shout at him, even — when he spontaneously brought his dick back out of his pants. "I—" I couldn't go on. "You can watch, or you can go. I don't really care. You know she'll do it either way, right? Sorry, man. She's just a slut like the others. And if my life's all about pussy, like you say, I mine as well have one more for myself, ha?" "Tyler, you can't," I stammered. "I can. And I will." I don't know what overtook me. I was powerless. I should have left, but I didn't want my mom to see me, and I knew I couldn't stay there. I thought it best to enter a stall for cover. I took the first one, and closed the door just as my mom entered the bathroom. I stood up on the toilet, and I could hear her tapping high-heels before I could see her, and it was almost surreal when she appeared, more-so when I saw the control Tyler had over her. "I've only come here to say how inappropriate—" "Down," Tyler said, interrupting her. She was already taken aback by his dick once again, and it seemed to have power over her. It was as if she couldn't resist herself. I felt so dirty watching, but now I was more trapped than before. "On your knees, Ms. Fisher." In her tight skirt and her high heels it took her a moment, yet she didn't hesitate. Soon her knees were on the tile floor, and the gargantuan rope of flesh before her was in her hands. She began to rub the shaft, soothingly, and it reminded me of how she used to rub my back when I was little, relaxing me before I slept. She made a little groan as his dick began to rise. It pulsed upwards with a flicker of movement and was suddenly at attention. The massive pole shot past her head and her shoulder practically made a shelf for it. She must have already taken her panties off before she came into the bathroom, perhaps she never had them on in the first place, for I saw a trail of oozing moisture filing down her leg from beneath her skirt, the gloss of the substance shining under the florescent lights of the room. She continued to massage his member with both hands, slowly at first, and then quicker, and then, without direction, she placed the head in her mouth, and slowly began to bob on the pole, her eyes closed, wincing, as she attempted to engulf the whole thing. "There you go," Tyler said, calmly. "Take your time with it." The niceness of his tone almost seemed to bring her to, as she slid her mouth from his dick and looked up at him. "What if someone comes in?" She asked. "This isn't smart." "Did someone tell you to stop, Ms. Tyler?" In one motion he grabbed her by the hair and she made a little yelp as he put his dick forward. "Take it, he said." It took her a moment to open her mouth, and it was a moment too long, as he clamped her nose shut with his index finger and thumb, which made her do as she was told. "Good, Ms. Fisher. That's what we want." He took control then. Her mouth was just his play-thing, and even as she gagged, as strings of saliva began to fall to the ground as he railed into her mouth, he refused to give up until she put both hands on his massive thighs and pushed off of him, falling onto the floor in a heap, catching her breath. "Up," he said. She huffed. "Please. I need some time." Her enormous breasts heaved up and down as she regained her breathing, and Tyler used the moment to run his hand along the collection of her juices and saliva that had fallen to the floor. He rubbed it between his fingers like a coin before walking over to her and pulling her up with his other hand. "Over here," he said. He brought her to the sinks — three of them in all, he chose the middle one — and leaned her over. "You — you can't tell Andy," my mom stammered. "He'd kill me." "Of course not, he said, and through the mirror I could see his smug grin again. "I'd never." Without another word he ran his hand, already slicked with juices, against her pussy, and she quivered at the touch. Her tits were housed on the sink top, and they practically pushed up against her chin as she leaned over. She whispered something, but I couldn't hear it, just as Tyler aligned his cock to her slit. "What's that?" he asked. This time, I heard her loud and clear: Fuck me. He impaled her in one stroke, and it was so big, her moan so lust-fueled in response, that my only thought was that she'd literally been stabbed with pleasure. He took her with a ferocity I hadn't seen even in porn, holding the belt around her waist at first, before grabbing a hand full of hair for greater pull. "You like that, Ms. Fisher?" he asked. "Please," she said. "Harder." He paused for a second, as if to consider the possibility, and then pulled her hair so hard her ear was up to his mouth. "Just remember you asked for it," he whispered. Suddenly, with her back totally arched, he pulled down her top, revealing her tits, and gripped one with his hand. He placed his left leg on the sink table, and began pounding into her relentlessly, her ass reddening with every thrust, his dick, white with her juices, exploring every inch of her insides. "Are you a little slut, Ms. Fisher?" She didn't respond, and he answered himself by pinching her nipple, groping the enormous mound of flesh, slapping it. "I asked you a question," he said. "Yes," she said. "I'm a . . . little slut." "Are you my slut?" "I'm yours. "Who's?" He dropped her tit and let go of her hair, pushing her head forward. Now both of her huge gargantuan orbs were sitting in the sink bowl, sharing the space, her head immediately beneath the faucet. "Your slut," she said. "That's right." He found a rhythm now, and I watched her body clench, her teeth chatter, and her legs buckle as an orgasm ripped through her. Even though her legs were limp his huge arms held her upper body in place, as he wasn't done with her, the rag-doll that was my own mother. The ragdoll that was now his own slut to be used... Suddenly he slowed down. "No," she said. "Keep going." "Only when you promise to give me what I want." "Anything," she said. "Please, just keep—" "When my grades come through, you'll make them A's for my transcript." "Tyler, I can't doctor grades—" He brought his leg down from the sink and turned her around in one motion, and as she twirled his massive dick flicked against her body. He grabbed her by the torso and picked her up, placing her against on the sink. His dick practically lined itself up with her pussy, as if smelling out where it belonged, and he took her once again. She thrashed wildly as he grabbed both of her tits in his hands, popping one into his mouth, then the other, the same breasts I had fed on as a child, the breasts that were now his and his alone. "FUCK ME," she said. "JUST LIKE THAT. JUST LIKE FUCKING THAT.." She clenched her legs around his ass and scratched his back, and she was speaking loud enough that I figured someone might hear, yet in the moment she didn't seem to care. Their mouths met and they kissed passionately, as if this was the culmination of years of waiting, and I felt embarrassed as he toyed with her. "You're mine," he said. "Only yours," she said, her tone desperate. "Tell me you'll give me what you want." He sped up and she tried to bring him in even closer as he sawed into her, her mouth open, her eyes closed, seeking to house him as deep inside of her body as possible. "Whatever you want. "All A's?" "Yes, baby. All A's, of course." The words were all he needed to hear, and he began to grunt, the sound of his pelvis meeting her own almost as loud as he was. "I'm gonna cum," he said. "Do it," she said. "Cum in me. Cum in my pussy, Tyler." He groaned, a breast firmly in one hand, and began depositing into her, and I could almost sense each of those final thrusts as rope after rope of cum emptied into my own mother, her legs clenched around him, her body begging for every last drop. For a moment they held one another, and she rubbed his ear delicately with her finger, stared into his eyes. His dick exited her with a plop, and her pussy, sitting over the edge of the sink, began leaking excess cum, a gushing stream huddling into a slough on the ground. "Clean me up," he said, and she crawled back to the ground, not even considering that she was kneeling in his cum, not caring at least, as she took his member into her mouth, and slowly licked it clean of his juices and her own. Just then, the bell rang. "Ms. Fisher?" he asked, with the innocence of a student as asking a teacher a question. "Yes, Tyler?" "I don't expect you to clean yourself up, do you understand? I want my cum in you all day, leaking out, the stickiness still on your thighs. Just so you know who you belong to." "If that's what you want," she said looking up at him, his deflated penis still in her hand. It almost seemed to pain her to let go of it. "That's good, Ms. Fisher. You're a good slut." He walked over to the sink, cleaned off his hands, and zipped his pants back up. Lacrosse Hunk Takes What He Wants "This isn't the last time we'll be seeing each other," he said. "I think I'll find a few more things you can help me with this year." "Anything, Tyler. Just ask." "I don't think I'll ask," he said, walking to the exit. "I might just take it."