Just a few times, when Mommy and I moved to embrace, she’d groan, “You fool.” I see what this means now. I feel like I can’t even be a man anymore, that I have to get on estrogen and be a girl and grow into a woman and then I won’t need Mommy anymore.
Straterra carries a side-effect for a few men where you ejaculate before you orgasm, which makes it impossible to orgasm during sex because your erection begins to shrivel. I’ve only ever orgasmed inside my own Mommy, and now I know the only woman in the world that’s right for me would be my Mommy as well, and I will be her daughter. I want her to make me!!! Not force me, though yes, but make me. Take who I am and turn it into who I should be. Her baby, eternally spraying cum into her. At the center of it, but an affected maze that left me without knowing who I was. Autopilot and warm, distant confidence without her. Her son and then her daughter with her. Her captive, her pet. Loving her, loving her, loving her. Everything that could possibly all be a part of life without excluding something else. Showing her how I could be hers and finding a way to be hers like finding sex. My Mistress. My fucking Goddess. My Everything. My Mommy. My Mommy with a grip on me, a control over me that there’s no sense in touching on because it’s so hard to believe.
Love is a fucking shadow to what I had with Mommy, and perhaps more of a shadow to what I could have with Mistress Lea. Love is a shadow. My coursing,, maddening need. Ablaze with lust, aglow with . . . . I submit to how I feel for her and the rest rises from that. What is that emotion? It’s not love. It won’t die. Devotion. It’s devotion. Devotion without mistrust, without restraint, without any other concern, without reluctance, and without shame. Completely without shame. Pride or doubt would dispel it. It’s in the air that I breathe. I live in a world of pain and bliss that’s so, so, so soft. And just a touch sad that Mistress having consumed the person I was and allowed me to be born, and that over the years I’ve reconciled with my new reality with an entirely accepting peacefulness, but that there’s a soft futility to it. As beautiful as this experience is, it means nothing if I don’t act on it. This landscape of a heart . . . maybe someday she’ll want to explore it. No one else will ever be able to.
Mommy became everything in the whole world to me. She loved me since before I was born simply for being me. I will love her till the day I die. She took my virginity. If I never sleep with another woman, I’ll be okay with that. But I couldn’t be everything to her because she had to share me with my dad. I used to think that if he came home to another man drilling me on his bed, calling him daddy, while Mommy’s face watched from Skype or something . . . . but we never did.
During my first summer home from college, I came home drunk one night and woke feeling like a million dollars. There was something about the way Mommy was looking at me and all that had passed between us that motivated me to stay up until 5:30am, drinking at home the next weekend. I distinctly remember seeing beige and trying to sit up but being unable to, leaning slightly to the right. Then, and this is very clear, I smelled something horrible and thought, “That’s my semen. Everyone is going to know I’ve been jerking off. Blackness returned and my dad came in around 4pm to tell me my mother had burned a skillet of fried chicken. I found out what happened years later. That evening, she would only mouth “no” and harshly shake her head whenever I caught her eye. Was I abused? I was masturbating every night in the study adjacent to her bedroom to the stories on this site, cumming with the word “mommy” literally thundering again and again in my blood. My virginity was so hers. If she hadn’t taken it, I’d have lost respect for her.
Sometimes the thought troubles me, but this is only because I need it to be true so bad and I’m scared it isn’t. I know this because I try to feel that I belong to her when I play with myself. Only when I’m certain it’s so and things could not be right otherwise can I cum. Mommy is one of two women I’ve cum for in the last ten years. My body is hers.
As I wrote, Mommy took my virginity. Later in life, when her having groomed me came to fruition, our first time together was a mess. She ground my erection down to nothing and proceeded to squirm around on it while I looked up at her, thinking she looked like my brother. I felt molested and left after she fell asleep. Of course, I was back four days later, but her vagina scared me so damned much, I simply could not get in it because it cost me my erection every last time. That never stopped. Even years later, I’d have to rub my limp penis around on her pussy till I slipped in and then grow hard.
The third or forth attempt, holding her from behind, I finally managed to climax. It was the very best experience of my life, that first time. Sublime the way heaven must be. It didn’t change me forever, I don’t think, though likely. I was raised to fuck Mommy and a fool to think I could without becoming forever hers. Even still, ten years later, I simply know like I know that water is wet that my dick only belongs in her pussy.
In retrospect, it was one of the nicest things she ever did for me. If it had been some other woman, I would have felt corrupted. If it had been a man, I would have been self conscious about being gay, but it was my Mommy. And I loved it. I loved her dick. I couldn’t stop begging for more.
The very most erotic thing I’ve encountered in this life is being down on my knees with my forearms folded before me, head resting upon them, offering up my ass to my mommy, and feeling the weight shift behind me on the bed. She was just like a man, sinking into me just slowly enough that I didn’t cry out. Oh, God, the helplessness of it. We had a ten and a half inch dildo, so I was getting fucked whether I wanted to be or not, and I loved it whether I wanted to or not, and I whined and whimpered and screeched for more whether I wanted to or not. She, her energy, came at me from all directions and I was her perfect fucking whore, whining for her to screw my sissy hole.
Once she claimed my ass, she took it when she wanted. Not on my schedule but on hers. I learned to stay put after she sucked my dick in case she wanted to fuck me, and she usually did. God, to truly belong to my Mommy.
The very first time Mommy saw me in a dress, her jaw dropped and she said, “This is the real you.” I’ve learned how weight to lend to those words and I’m giving up my career as a computer programmer to get a relaxed office job so I can live as a woman for a year. Maybe I’ll even wind up blowing my boss. 🙂
But I really, really what it means to be a woman. I want to be treated as a woman, and I pass frequently enough. I want to flirt with men. I want to get fucked. I want me, to at last be me.
When I was seven years old or so, my mommy would tell me that she loved me more than any woman besides the woman who would marry me. I never told her, but I wanted her to love me more than my wife.
