My School Bully Was My Mom’s Lover

What I’m about to share with you is something I have withheld for years. It’s not to say I never wanted to make it known, more like to this day I’m as embarrassed about it as I am fascinated that it really happened, and the repercussions it’s had in my life to this day. It’s one of those things that you’d think never could occur to anyone, like it’s some fantastical dream of sorts, but I’m here to let you know it did. Everything I’m about to share with you happened as I say it did. You might choose not to believe it—that’s up to you. I’m merely going to tell it.

The story is about a black man and the relationship he shared between me and my mom when I was a teenager. His name was Damon Fleece. He went to the same high school I did, except he later dropped out and got involved in other areas of work, one of which involved my mom.

Damon was a terror to me when I was in tenth grade; he was a senior at the time. He preyed on me and others, including my friends, on a weekly basis. Damon was a scary, muscular fellow with a scowl of a face. I tried to be clever and often avoided him for weeks, but then I’d become neglectful and stumble into his presence, where he’d ransack my pockets and take whatever he claimed I owed. Sometimes I willingly offered my money to him before he’d even ask; failure would warrant him teaching me a lesson in manners, which I’d seen him dispel on others less fortunate.

Mom never believed me whenever I mentioned Damon to her. I kept begging her to move me to a new school, but that always fell on deaf ears. Her remedy was that there was only one way to get back at a bully and that was to confront him. 

“You’re old enough to start fending for yourself, Charles,” she admonished me. “Unless you want to be a pussy all your life like your dad.”

Damon ran his hands over mom’s backside, lifting up her robe to grab her butt.

That hurt when she said that, but she did have a point about me standing up for myself… except I knew what that outcome would bring, and I wasn’t itching to find out myself. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was to discover weeks later.

It was raining one day when I returned from school having run the last mile and was dripping wet when I let myself into the house. I heard laughter from the living room, and I nearly choked on my breath when I saw who was inside. There was my mom, and seated across from her was my nemesis, Damon. They were drinking brandy, and the table bore a plateful of unfinished snacks that indicated they had been here for a while. They stopped laughing and looked towards my direction when they heard my footsteps.

“Hi Charlie,” said mom. “Damon and I were just talking about you. Why don’t you come over and say hi.”

“What’s up, Charles,” said Damon.

“Hi,” I muttered and then turned and left them together. 

I entered my room, shut the door, and sat on my bed wondering what on earth could have talked my mom into inviting Damon to our home. She explained things to me later when we were alone eating dinner.

“I needed to see for myself who this Damon character is that you keep running away from,” she said. “You always made him seem like some sort of monster.” 

“But he is, mom,” I complained.

“Oh hush there, Charlie–he’s nothing of the sort. He said he enjoys teasing you, that’s all. He’s a very charming fellow, and quite knowledgeable, too. He said he knows how to fix things. Possibly I can get him to fix our washing machine this week, and maybe pay him half the price. What do you think, hon?”

My only response was to grumble under my breath. I didn’t like the way things were going, and wished I could have ended this nightmare once and for all.

Surprisingly, Damon stopped terrorising me after that day. I would come to school and leave, and not once did I glance over my shoulder to see him lurking. Even when I did, he was busy goofing off with his buddies or hassling some other unfortunate kid. I began walking to and from school without a fear in the world.

It never occurred to me why until one day I returned early from school and entered through the back door. The washing machine was open, and there were various work tools and mechanical parts lying on the floor. Noise was coming from beyond the kitchen; it was coming from the living room. I approached the door as quietly as my feet could carry me, inched the door open, and peeped through. What I saw happening in the living room knocked the breath out of my lungs.

Damon sat on the sofa wearing his undershirt and jeans, while mom sat on his lap, and was kissing him. She wore a silk bathroom robe, and it was obvious she was naked underneath. Damon ran his hands over mom’s backside, lifting up her robe to grab her butt. I’m not going to lie, I have sneaked into mom’s bedroom to catch her drying herself while naked, but that was as far as I could go. Never have I seen her with a man before, so this was strange as it was mind-numbing.

Mom jerked her butt against Damon’s crotch like a cat. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder while kissing him. Damon’s large pair of hands caressed and squeezed mom’s butt cheeks like they were her favourite plaything. He slid his hand between her cheeks, which got mom to squirm actively. 

“Come on, let’s go into my room,” mom suggested. “I’ve got something in there I’d like you to work on.”

She came off Damon, and I quickly stepped away from the door. I was afraid that she would come looking in the kitchen and then see me, but she didn’t. I listened as she and Damon passed the door and went down the corridor towards her bedroom. I heard her door open, but it didn’t slam shut. I peered outside my door, finding the coast clear, eased out into the corridor and approached mom’s bedroom. 

She kept up her cries while Damon, not uttering a word aside from grunting heavily kept fucking my mom like he wanted to rip her in half.

The door was ajar, the interior was dark except for sunlight streaming through the windows. I heard mom laughing, including Damon’s masculine, raw voice, interspersed with ruffling noise. Then mom’s laughing stopped and was replaced by a yearning moan; the sort of noise one makes when you’re standing under a shower and feel that warm blast of hot water hit you. I’d never heard mom sound off like this before. 

They were having sex; I didn’t need to peep inside mom’s room to know what was happening. I stayed closer to the doorway while listening in on their activity: there was mom gasping and whimpering, Damon grunting and slapping his body against my mom, and there was the groaning noise coming from the bed. I have watched enough porn movies and could picture what was happening inside. 

I drew closer enough to spy their converged shadows together across the room.

Mom was moaning and whimpering louder–at some point, she hollered Damon’s name, and even pleaded for him to fuck her harder.

“Ohh God, I’ve never had it this good,” mom cried amid her moaning frenzy. “Awwhh… Aww you fuck me so damn good! I’ve never… God, I’ve never been fucked so good like this before!”

She kept up her cries while Damon, not uttering a word aside from grunting heavily kept fucking my mom like he wanted to rip her in half. I didn’t dare look in the room, but the banging noise along with my mom’s rising cries told me he was smashing her good. And there were the groaning bed springs too. Mom kept whimpering and hollering her head off as if Damon was the best thing she could ever want. 

That wasn’t the last time Damon fucked my mom. He became a regular fixture in our home. Sure, he did get to help with fixing our washing machine, but he got more payment from being fed by mom, after which she would then empty his balls in her bedroom. I did get to see them fuck for real. It was almost as if mom stopped caring whether I was home or not. Twice I’d returned through the back door and found Damon railing into my mom in the living room. I was torn between disgust and fascination from watching them.

One time I lay on my bed working on an assignment while beyond the corridor echoed mom’s blatant cries. Later, Damon knocked at my door and entered my room, dripping sweat down to his boxer shorts. He was guzzling a bottle of beer, gloating at me.

“What’s up, Charles. You’ve got a damn hot mom in there, white boy,” he chuckled. “Quite the horny bitch she is. How come you ain’t told me before that your mom was a freak?”

I stayed silent, watching him with expressionless eyes.

“No matter,” he continued. “I’m gonna bring my fellas over and we’re gonna run a train on her. Stick around, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

He laughed and shut the door and returned to mom’s bedroom.

I was clueless about his statement ‘run a train’. Days later, however, I learned what it meant when he came over with four buddies of his. Mom wasn’t surprised to see them arrive–she seemed to have been expecting them when she welcomed them inside. They talked and laughed, and Damon played music on our stereo system while his buddies took turns dancing with mom. They retired to her bedroom later, and the thunderclaps, screams, and grunts I heard from behind her door was enough to keep me aroused for the remainder of the week.

Yes, I became addicted to watching mom getting nailed, pounded, and fucked by Damon Fleece and his host of friends. He eventually knocked up mom, and she agreed to keep the baby. Such was what I witnessed in my home. 

Such was how I grew up to become a sissy.