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Free Man copes with his mother fantasies. Videos

A costume party brings Greg and his sister closer together.

Especially our faux-rape 'please don't' sessions. The heinous things I'd done to her were on a level, in my mind, with the things I imagined other men doing to her. I got hard thinking about the kind of ass-fucking she must have gotten to come home bleeding that one time. I would stroke myself while I fantasized about all the customers she serviced while she was working as a whore, trying to put together enough money to score another hit of smack, and when I thought about a customer fucking her throat or slapping her or kicking her out of his car and onto the curb, I would bust a nut. I had wet dreams where I'd see her passed out insensate, her drugged and passive body getting used by a roomful of junkies, on the night she'd overdosed - and I'd wake up with my dick spurting. The erotic ghost of Gorgeous - and my own guilt and shame over continuing to find it so erotic - haunted me.

"You know how it is with guilt and shame, though. When it comes to sex they usually just fan the flames. I wouldn't admit it, but I was Jonesing hard for a girl who would let me totally use her and degrade her like Gorgeous had. And I also needed a new source of income; my rep as a dealer was shot.

"I still had my pick of the skanks, but after Gorgeous, too many of them seemed listless and dull and uninspired in the sack, and even those who weren't were usually freaked out by how kinky and aggressive I was. And then one night it happened. I ran into her... the girl who'd changed my life. The girl who'd been in the neighbouring toilet stall that night; who had phoned me in and gotten me arrested."

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"She walked up to me one night out of the blue when I was sitting at the bar. She was a petite brunette with long chestnut-brown hair and creamy skin, about Gorgeous' size but a lot bustier, with huge double-D tits that she showed off in a tight little green tank dress that picked up the color of her eyes. She had this kind of tomboy girl-next door cuteness about her, but when she accosted me she was flushed with indignation.

"The first time I met her I never got her name. She just walked up to me and said, 'You're the son of a bitch that ass-fucked a girl in the women's bathroom, aren't you?!' And she didn't even wait for me to answer before she went off on me in what I later realized had to have been a prepared speech about dirty bastards who don't respect women or themselves, about how it was the twenty first century now and I needed to stop acting like a headhunter from the twelfth, about how I probably had to fuck my women in the ass because my dick was too small for them to feel it anywhere else... on and on for like five minutes straight before she finally ran out of rant and just kind of spluttered at me for a second.

"That was when I glanced down and saw her nipples were rock-hard, poking through the flimsy fabric of her dress. I looked back up at her and held her gaze for a second, and then she got this look of terror on her face and went beet red and turned and all but ran out of the pub.

"The encounter stuck with me for days afterwards. The little skank wasn't as perfectly beautiful as Gorgeous had been, but she was plenty pretty and in the full flight of her anger had looked quite memorable. Even more memorable was how her vocal disgust - and the involuntary responses of her body, especially the big, perky nipples I'd seen outlined beneath her dress - was so obviously a thinly-veiled form of fascination. The day in question was largely forgotten by most people in our set - we saw the cops get called out often enough and we certainly did enough fucking in bar bathrooms for it not to stand out - but a year later this chick still remembered it, had a whole prepared speech about it, had obviously been thinking about it and turning it over in her mind.

"I wondered if she masturbated while thinking about the burbling sounds Gorgeous had made with her face submerged in toilet water and her pussy squirti

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