Here are 10 chores I no longer have to do now that I don’t have a husband. (And yes some of these will probably not relate to your particular husband, in which case I salute him and his ability ... A slight majority (56%) of couples questioned said that arguments over household chores can play a role in divorce or separation, with 60% saying that conflicts arise where one partner does not do their fair share around the house. On average, couples who divorce over household chores do so after 9 months of arguing 3 times a month about the issue. Subject: Divorce over chores and WOHM Anonymous Also wanting a house without clutter on wverybhorizontal surface and toys underfoot in every room, to the point where “puppet making sequins” and sh*t is not put away, is not him being a neatnik or minimalist. A new study conducted by Harvard Business School suggests that as many as 25% of married couples end their relationship over chores. Can an uneven divide in cooking and cleaning really cause a rift in so many marriages? You bet. “Disagreements About Housework” Ranked 3rd Leading Reason for Divorce in Study Surprisingly, the studies showed that the divorce rate among couples who share the chores equally was 50 percent higher than among those where the wife does the majority of the work. The researchers were under the impressionthat having clearly defined roles would lead to fewer arguments. A study out of Harvard Business School studied 3,000 couples and found that 25 percent of couples who divorced listed “disagreements about housework” as the top reason for splitting up, as reported... With both spouses working outside the home, more and more families are deciding to have someone come in to help with household chores. Even if only on a biweekly or monthly basis, having an extra set of hands on deck can be a huge help. Remember, the most important thing is to do something. Taken for granted: Women are more likely than men to seek a divorce because they get frustrated when men do not pull their weight, such as when it came to household chores (stock image pictured) By... Grey divorce refers to a demographic trend that has witnessed an increase in the split or separation of older couples who have been married for a long time. While the overall rate of divorce in ... Subject: Divorce over chores and WOHM. Anonymous: Op, this comes from someone who is disorganized, forgetting, comes from a mild hoarder household, etc. I have changed in my 12 years of marriage to be much more neat and clean, like my husband and his family. I changed because I wanted to change. Growing up, I wanted to have a house like my ...
2020.09.24 20:08 Username0519 Moms bare tits
TL;DR husband refuses to help with chores and we are starting marriage therapy because I am so unhappy in my marriage. Husband says I am trying to change him when all I am asking is that he helps me around the house. Worried that counseling will not work and ashamed I will now be divorced twice.
This is about me (27f) and husband (29M). So I wasn’t sure where this belonged, but I don’t really want asshole judgment here. I need to get this off my chest because I’m really upset. So I posted here before about my husband (before we were married) and him becoming sober. So things progressed and seemed to be getting kind of better and we got married and bought a house. Well obviously I say kind of better because now here we are. We start marriage counseling in a week and I don’t know if I can wait another week for some relief. Tensions are high and I cry every day. My tipping point was reading an AITA about a guy expecting his gf to cook every night and he sounded just like my husband (he was dubbed the asshole). Doesn’t really help with house work on the weekends, doesn’t do anything during the week, and justifies it by saying he works harder and makes more so I have to work, do all the chores, and take care of the kiddo. We have been arguing non stop because I just ask that he does the dishes after I cook during the week. Otherwise I just ask that he stops asking me to do chores while I work from home because even though I’m home, I’m working. I don’t ask him to empty the dishwasher or load it, or do dishes that I’ve made throughout the day. Just dinner dishes. It always causes a fight. Everything causes a fight. And everything with him is tit for tat. He changed all the outlets when we moved in so I should do more chores. He does DIY stuff that I unfortunately do not have the skill for, so I do more chores. He does mow the lawn once a week, water it twice a week (the sprinkler system needs to be replaced but he keeps like pushing it off even though we got a reasonable estimate), and take the full garbage bins to the curb on trash day. I fully appreciate those things, but then everything else is left to me. Sometimes he randomly doesn’t have work and he gets to relax and I still have to cook and clean. I feel so resentful and I am so afraid therapy will not work because he says he does all these chores that I have witnessed him do maybe twice in our whole relationship. Even the little one notices and asks why he never helps me. He said his mom did this to him and his dad when he was younger, but doesn’t realize he’s doing it and repeating the pattern. I have no time for myself and have stopped working out and he says that he can tell which makes me feel so bad about myself. But idk where to fit it in on top of chores, work, and studying for my career change (which has a deadline obviously). My last husband wasn’t like this, but he cheated a lot and had his own set of issues which is why we divorced. Obviously my picker is off and I can’t always blame everyone else for my choices, but I also don’t have enough room to type out the constant broken promises he made to help. We even put up cameras inside for two months so he could see what I do, and it was HIS IDEA and he got mad at me when he saw he wasn’t pulling his weight and said he works more and makes more than me so the least I need to contribute by doing more housework because he’s tired. Both sets of parents have witnessed that I do more and obviously he’s seen it on camera and there’s nothing I can do. I can afford the house on my own because I don’t have a car payment or a credit card and he wouldn’t be able too because even though he makes more, he also has more debt. I don’t want to divorce, but I feel like I’m asking for the bare minimum and it just creates an argument no matter how nicely I ask. His treatment of me and our child is subpar and I told him we needed to start therapy because I am so unhappy I think I want a divorce. He said he’ll do it, but said I better not expect him to change and this isn’t going to be a “bash on hubby session”. I just want help and to feel like I have a partner and not like I’m so alone. I don’t need advice. Just an outlet because I’m so sad and scared of the future I had to take the day off of work to calm down.
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2020.09.23 11:04 sithlordanon Moms bare tits
So my wifes grandma visited and so did my wifes mom. Well my wifes grandma brought old photos of my wife when she was younger.
Well one of the photos was a picture of my wifes mom with her tits out. She looked like she was gonna breastfeed but it was only her. Very weird. Well I saw this picture with my wife, her mom and her grandma.
Her mom really really likes me. Like not in that sexual way I dont think. But she is just like super extra nice to me all the time. Well she was super embarassed.. It was a bit awkward but its kinda nice having seen her tits. Oh and I've also seen her bare ass and pussy for like a second. I was at her house and I have no idea what she was doing. But my wife asked me to get her purse she left in her room. Well I knocked and heard no answer and she had been outside earlier. Thought she was still outside. So I opened the door. She was in the bathroom bent over, ass and pussy in plain view. She looked like she was flushing but hadnt pulled her pants up yet. Idk who does that. I always pull my pants up and then turn around and flush but whatever. It was super quick. I was like sorry and closed the door immediately.
Also the picture is still here in the house in our family documents. I would nevee ever share on here though so dont ask.
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2020.09.05 17:06 SlothropWho Moms bare tits
I finetuned the 355M model on a dataset consisting of V., The Crying of Lot 49, Gravity's Rainbow, Slow Learner, Vineland, Mason & Dixon, Against the Day, Inherent Vice, and Bleeding Edge for 8,000 steps with a learning rate of 1e-4 using gpt-2-simple, here's a few of samples it generated:
The head is a kind of sinister bug, with hair of barbed cobbles. It is one of the female virgins, smiling at you from an angle. Black boots and gold stockings flutter in the kimono. A shaved head, hair pulled closely in front of his ears, the kind of hair you get when you're drinking beer, jizzing over his underskirts. It is all glorious gold. The parrot folds his arms nicely, reaches to stroke the wings. The room is heavy with old things, tools and fittings, cleaning kits, signs of commerce that have no place in this life: the chicken pots of coffee and drops of Ether, the two bare ladies who sat like prostitutes on the stone coffee urns in the basement of the Cathedral last week; the rotten eggs of stalactites and sea-lagoons and sea-lagoons for lagoons only; the gilded teeth of drowned men; the bright enervated water and blue flesh of bird and fish; the wings of little children who died in their cradle and lay sprawled under their mother's arms; and the old ram bladders and the cracked cartilage that tied them to the floors and lay oozing their secret fluids all around the walls of the common pools.
And the face, born of fire! Fled down into blubbering pustules, splitting esophagus and stung lungs, it is as if the man had flown up into the sun, taken up all his elemental strength, and launched himself into the deep black, into the bright chemical rain, the raw brittle demise wrapped in crystal-smeared plastic from somewhere along the lines of these built-up peoples, men and women because there was no place for them in the now-quite-corrupt world they had grown old in. Or would he? He'd looked very old. According to the Voice, the face, as it had come to be called, was at least 60 years of age. The Voice of the General Electric, 18 Standard Gray, bearing the oldest possible date of conception, Charles Stuart (that is, born December 7, 1899) was only 30.
There was more. The voice of Charles Stuart had been alive when the old man died and the first letter U.S.S. Dean entered had been from St. Petersburg, not far away in any way recorded by the Public Archives.
The wisdom, out in the silence and without words, has persisted—after All is Illuminated, though its source should have been nowhere in sight.
Peggy may be on the way back to New York now. And says what he's back to. Or he may be seeing a friend in New York and there will be nothing.
If it is seeing Dominique now, could she be Happy Mother?
That we have found the Yih Pu, the source of his "light," there is no way now to know. He may be seeing a girl, two, or three, maybe even more. He would not be calling her a comely daytime beauty, she may be under the wrong impression that he is one of these high-class girl-superstars who are no stranger to the public eye, perhaps he even goes out to rendezvous near the Walden Pond, I have known the real us to rendezvous, she has seen us both on the street . . . come from different places, different nations. He may be seeing her for the first time--or maybe two. . . .
It wouldn't shock me if one of these really was her friend, the one they really are, the great Angel of Delicatessen. . . .
He can't tell from all the bureaucracy the trips up. He's always correcting his own mistakes, grading her on them, finding old pornographic images in her shopper's purse, a sudden dearth of one urban legend or another, no stuffing her lunch with a pork pie in it, no fluorescent lighting, no duct tape . . . "Ah, but that's the thought . . . oh, for Pete's sake, the thought that no, women are too out of the newsprint tonight, even the strange and hitherto under-reported stories that must make up the balance of her day. . . ." He is weary and unwilling to even consider the possibility that she might not come from somewhere else, besides the daily death-transmissions affecting the Western World at large. . . .
Maybe what he means is: she must be from Vienna or someplace. Their knowledge of one another is so filtered, so safe. But it's still possible, now, that different people think she's from different places. . . .
Can she be one of them? Some million snidele ducks in a bucket-full of privacy? How dismal is that? Too dismal.
The encrypted code.
Anyway, we're on crunch time, the code is the story, most of it was given to me by Neiwert. But, from what Neiwert had seen that day, he couldn't have provided the entire story.
It seemed that this extraordinary woman, who passed through corridors and elevators, whose body was a labyrinth of copper-colored doors, no floor or ceiling above, no wall or wall without a consecrated angle to anchor it, was the proprietor of a small store in the Yangon Business District. Now whenever Dally saw her husband she would always be taken for a curious and possibly dangerous woman. Maybe under that pseudonym, maybe a tourist from another planet. Their liaison had been more or less always romantic. But it was all about money, and the price of gold, and who knew what else.
The day Dally and Amanda met, it was in the dead of night. They were sharing a bathtub in the octagonal room of the C.E. No signs of a business deal going on. The water was still pure enough that when the rich children of the high place were asked to name the scariest place they had seen in Europe, St. Peter's would stand out as the one they remembered. Amanda was, in fact, adapting the bathtub to her own needs. When Dally asked where her husband was she was told he was away somewhere recovering from the wars in Vietnam. But when she showed up she was surprised to find him gone full slick with nicotine from some imported Chinese device. He gave her a list of things to be afraid of. Tried to visualize it many times. He even went as far as naming, and hiding, among the things that people had seen at St. Peter's. A little unnaturally? Of course she was frightened but had no way to say, no not out loud.
When he left, she ran away to find her family. It was next day, nightfall, they were awakened in the middle of the night by small, blood-curdling gassen.
It was the same old story again. Runaways out like wild dogs. Dally went out, back in the Louisana, east of the Trieste and into the wide enemy-brickwork of the city.
It would have been better if it hadn't been so long ago. Her father had died over in
The deep wooden shadows of this room betray the passing of dim music: music of the margins, of the makeshift. Porcepic's rule tonight is a silly-girl facet: every girl, Mondays-to-be Female of XX is visualized wistfully as a starlet in Fauve, leaning jitterbugged along in the circular fondamenta, the light of Genuine Italian Poppy-Stalk neatly pinned to the tapestry by artistes, and engrossing the hapless youth's attention.
Ha! Incest! What's this! He didn't think this far ahead. Isn't this piano, like the others? not hand-penned or, in fact, assembled? Calibrated to a day's run--- fine: he can sit here to-gether among workshop synths, faded Allen-turn-me-on tunes, dadaist techniques, glassy and serene. . . . But where does his passion come from? Even the bass line in here, after listening for a while to Hoagy Carmichael, the basses, what a discover-ing, heart-of-the-pine affair! There is a thunderous bass line, a "whisper." What is this, a "Dancing-Queen" song? No one could ever have guessed. Even if the one person who can tell does happen to be an actress, in this business one tends to end up looking for coincidences. But this deep bass line, this "whisper" has sparked an immediate investigation as to its orchestration. Fascinated, the thought occurred to Porcepic himself, with a comedy routine he was just going to improvise upon. The thought struck him as poignant, and he furrowed his eyebrows. But what on earth could be so clear?
Now Porcepic was in the habit of reading purgatory vignettes from other works, imagining there was something therein, something that would help him, like a dossier. As experiments go, his was unorthodox: he wouldn't win. The se-cret organs of memories--though often not so much behind closed doors or with the spineless mumblings of absorbed objects, he practiced interior monologue. Neither of the above, and yet. . .
Have you--really played him before? Her secret anger? Aha. The secret man. An alias, you know, Porcepic?
The establishments feel much the same way?”
“The ones you really have to work for.”
“Hmmm what do they make you do?”
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“You were talking about a union.”
“It’s not a union, I’m smart like that.”
“Ohhhhh, really? Did you see any of that talk I was making with Lobelia about women and women being dumb, almost as if--”
“One thing I do,” Maxine, “is I go in that room with myself, and I don’t stay there long.”
“What happened to you, anyway?”
“I, like, shouldn’t, I’m not smart like that, I should be more like dumb?”
It’s another forty-minute checkout. “You don’t mind if I just come in the bathroom and look around?”
“I don’t mind, Charles. It’s the snowing on my tits.”
They buy vegetables, seasonal avocados, wrapped in plastic, out of Whole Foods. There’s a bag of Cheetos and a half a can of vegetable oil. “Yum,” mumbling, or maybe es-tually, “f'r pure ah joy.”
Maxine starts to find the whole thing creepy. “There’s a code here,” she wonders. “Do you guys have to sign any?”
“Keepo,” sez Horst, “we’re all Dr. Jennifer, how can we be in any more than one business?”
“I’m a kid. I’m in the book, Mom.”
Lobelia comes running in. “Aawwww,” yelling at the kid.
The bag of corn on each visit to the above-ground supermarket, it turns out, has a pork-and-apple mixture inside, not excluded here by some wised-up field-sixty-degree sprinkling of gravy.
The Theorem of Opticks," as the Revd Gibbons informs us, "proceeds not only from a corrupting naivete, but from a corrupting principle itself, which admits nothing but the indefinite."
"And," the Professor continues, "our own genius is built on the back of those people, who were gifted at math only once, and who are now beyond any hope of redemption. Simple arithmetic is of course embraced by the schemers and planners of our day, but it cannot claim the glory. The real genius has to come from somewhere else - a particular architecture, a particular technique, a particular theorem. No matter what language or method we use, we are liable to the same unwholesome illusions about one another, so that we are never too sure of anything. The genius arrives in town, and goes rampant across the city. Our common enemy, that is."
He smiles as if David had never said a word. Webb is astonished at how well he knows. "You can't see what he's going to do, he's as dedicated to the murder of his own people and its construction as anyone here. Everyone's reaction is the same. The leaders rush in, short-term and long-term, to talk about the possibility of a Final Solution. The poets try to write their own solutions, and the musicians their own music. The idea is to expand a long poem to the point where the whole thing collapses at last into one big, silent burst of noise, emotion, loss. But if you listen carefully enough you can hear the orchestra wrapping itself around the entire speech, actually strumming it to the beat of some melody. Every word. All of it. Those same words and phrases. What we call 'organ music.' They're being played by the people who've invented the instruments to play them. I want to believe, but I want to believe in my own power, in the real omnipresence of an ancient God, who can make all the mistakes that I can make."
Still, Webb could not believe, he couldn't see, that play, that organ music. "How can you believe in God and not in the instruments? How can you believe in what you're supposed to be playing and not believe in what your God says you're supposed to be going in to do?"
The foe is most certain of his prowling for each dog-pudgin of mine. After me it's worse. The jitterbug style of search, his sneakers on the end of his snood. I can't see him. He's so big and black and white ...
"Don't turn around now," told my old commanding hand, "Tancredi has already made off with Hitler's boot-picture. He's sent it to you—look at the inscription on the spoon he sipped from! We have to see what it is before we can let you off."
"It's a picture of Adolf Hitler. A cartoon, a dramatic-novel of a fascist. Each Jew was ordered to draw each one differently, Hitler never as cut out or clever as he tries in the Manuever—"
"Fascists are both. It's not about drawing drawings, Säure. Hitler really sold or fabricated any boot-soles. He sold them to anyone at all. Fascists are makers of bootlaces.
"Remember man, there is no plan, the enemy has no concept of growth, they only go forward what they will find. You, on the other hand, know what plan we do. All we have to do is keep growing, we will be left with nothing."
"Hardly ever say that," said Säure. "What do you mean, grow?"
"Every time we drink or smoke we learn in the same way that eyes and ears can't hear, only see. Only this level of indeeepth. Aryan development is nothing at all to the velocity of history, the mass of the people, the speed of thought. But at the pace of thought we move, die. We move through the multitudes and fields of an enemy who is not so much aware of it as helpless at the very slow point, where we act, as we must, soon as we are aware of it. So we move, or discover we do. It's nothing to the power in the name of spring but a very slow growth curve, a very high boiling point. A different planet for the European soul."
"But he creates all the boot-soles," protested Iwo Jiménez. "Who otherwise? Why should he? Unless somebody is inventing them all...?"
"Maybe you were born under a different order," Säure said.
The picture is the cover of LIFE, March, the year Vegetable was invented, 1937.submitted by SlothropWho to ThomasPynchon [link] [comments]
2020.09.04 01:29 NemoHobbits Moms bare tits
2nd edit: hi to the douche from a completely unrelated subreddit that wants to try and use this post about shitty parents to tell me I need to "work on myself" and defends people who speed through neighborhood streets.
I took my dog to a local brewery today (my boyfriend came too). This brewery is extremely dog friendly. Has bowls everywhere, majority outdoor seating (all spaced well over 6ft apart), an outside walk up window to order drinks and food, and even a fenced in dog run area. As SOON as we showed up, we get swarmed by a half dozen unmasked crotch goblins who are all leaning towards my dog's face with their hands out. He shrinks away from them and hides behind me and I say "he's not in the mood to be pet today." The useless (also unmasked) mother is standing at the outdoor window and doesn't say shit to the kids. One of them starts babbling about "oh is he mixed with a lab and pit bull? My dog is mixed with lab and pit bull blah blah...." and I just kept glaring at them while slowly backing away. I couldn't even go up to the window to get a beer because the kids were all standing in the way staring at me and my dog. So I walked to the back of the building to find an isolated table to sit for a few minutes before trying to get a beer again.
So my boyfriend and I are the ONLY people sitting at any of the tables behind the building and these stupid fucking kids come and start fucking lurking around the table. No parents anywhere to be seen, and I again tell them my dog does not want to be pet. And the same child from before starts talking about his dog at home. Kid, I don't fucking care. I'm allergic to you. Go away. I glared at the children and initated a conversation with my boyfriend which included as much profanity as I could possibly fit. Because fuck yo kids and yo feelings, if they're gonna lurk around my fucking table I'm gonna teach them new words.
Eventually I got up to go get a beer and while I was ordering some of the kids came BACK up to my dog. The mother was right behind them and this time there was a child who had clearly just started walking and waddled right up into my dog's face. They're lucky my dog is a pussy because all he did was hide behind me again. I said "I've already told y'all he doesn't want to be petted." And again the mom didn't do shit.
They basically fucking followed us around the entire time I was there, whether it be hovering around the table or following me whenever I got up to get a beer. The parents never did or said a damn thing and just kept letting their kids wander all over the place and run around the other tables and the parking lot out of their sight. I ended up leaving much earlier than I intended to because I was too annoyed to enjoy myself. I'm still fucking angry. I could have had a nice socially distanced evening enjoying locally brewed beer and supporting a local business while treating my dog to a doggie adventure. But no. These fucking parents need to teach their kids that NO means NO. NO does NOT mean follow someone around and keep fucking bothering them. They're lucky it was my pansy ass dog and not one that would snap at someone in its face.
Edit: OH AND something non dog related, the barely walking child kept stripping down to just a diaper. And the trash ass skanky father said something to this wee crotchshit along the lines of "oh you're gonna show everyone your tits?!" Like how the FUCK is that appropriate?
Also I live in a very trashy yet for some reason popular tourist town on the southeast coast of the US. So it's full of trashy retirees from up north as well as trashy rednecks.
submitted by NemoHobbits to childfree [link] [comments]
2020.08.23 19:55 solinwhynot My dad(62M) and his girlfriend(45F) are talking about marriage.
Okay so hear me out, I know it sounds weird. Let me explain.
My parents divorced when I was around 12. I never really saw them like a couple, they were more like roomates. My mom was fine because she found someone else almost right away. But my dad was heartbroken. I mean "I don't want to see my kids for two years" heartbroken. So when he was ready to move on, we were happy to see him again. That's when my brother introduced him to the mom of a girl he used to date.
And my dad became this man I had only seen in pictures : he was living again. Started gaining some weight, sleeping more, enjoying life outside of his appartment and computer. We were all really happy for him at first. I was a bit youngest of my siblings so I had a harder time welcoming her into the family.
But when she set in, that's when the troubles began.
She began complaining to my dad that we didn't like her, and that we wouldn't welcome her into the family. My siblings were way older than me and were adult enough to understand that she made my dad happier, and that it was all we wished for. I was still too young (14) to really understand what was happening and all the details behind everything.
My brother suffered a lot because he's the only one who stayed with my dad when he got so low he wanted to kill himself. My brother was only 16/17. It really affected him because he's the one who took responsibilty to care for my dad. Now that my dad's gf was in the picture, it took all of the pressure off his shoulders. So of course he would be grateful she came along so that he could be a teenager again.
All of that was to say that no, we didn't hate her. We slowly understood (by "we" I mean my siblings) that she was trying to spread lies between us all. It was so subtle at first, you could barely see it. She went on to turn two of my sisters against each other because of a "misunderstanding".
And now that my dad had more energy, he could go out more and do more around the house. She would get him drunk almost every weekend (my dad is a cook in a public school, so weekends were his only free days) at "family gatherings" of hers. We were never there to witness any of it. But she would love to brag about how much he would drink, and of course, that flattered his ego. But every Sunday, he was exhausted. And if he wasn't out drinking, he was out of town for something or another, almost always regarding her illnesses.
She then moved in with him, gradually. It began with her replacing our furniture by hers or new ones. She made him redo his kitchen because she didn't like the wallpaper. She made him change bedroom sets two times in the course of a year (complete sets mind you : bedframe, mattress, dressers, etc.) because it wasn't the one she liked. She made him buy her a car because her elbow hurt when she tried to shift gears. She quit her job a few years ago because of her illnesses, so she's not allowed to work anymore. She has certificates attesting she cannot work. But she's working illegally right now. I know she is, because every time we meet, she brings this up in the conversation.
We tried talking to my dad about what she is clearly doing, but we're only met with denial. He's always trying to protect her. We know he loves her, and she has helped him a whole lot more than we could even begin to understand. But what I see in the room when she's with him is not my dad.
My dad used to go on bicycle rides with me. We would run and walk our dogs early in the morning. We would write and talk for hours on end, about nothing and everything. He's the one who drove me almost two and a half hours to my school and approved of my decision to go to a private school to pursue my dreams. Every time I talk to him one on one, he's the dad I grew up respecting and loving.
She has made of him a disgusting man who talks with words I never thought I'd hear from him. My dad talked about his gf's daughter as if she was an object, and she fucking laughed. He said he only needed her tits to wake him from the dead. I found that so appalling, I almost cried and left the table.
All she does is complain every time she walks and brag about the money she's making when she's not supposed to work at all. It's getting to the point that we can't even talk to our dad without her interfering. It's driving me mad.
I heard one of my sisters saying that they are talking about marriage and I know in my guts it's not a good idea. I know it. They're talking about buying a house, but I know my dad has been delaying it. He wanted to retire at the end of this school year, but he still wants to delay it for 4 more years. He clearly can't buy a house.
I love my dad, I really do, and I want to do something about the situation he is in. He's tired all the time, and she's sucking up all his money, and I don't know what to do anymore. I don't even know if I can do anything. Nothing we did or told him would make him consider even the possibility that she might be after his money.
Perhaps she only wants what's good for him and we only saw what we wanted to see. Maybe she's the good one in this story and we're the bad guys. I don't know anymore.
I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, english is not my first language. Feel free to ask for more details or stories, or whatever you want. I just want to know if there is anything I can do to help my dad.
submitted by solinwhynot to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
2020.08.22 16:48 lbb404 Moms bare tits
Asked this before, but didn't get much of a response. What do you think of MF/m ballbusting stories?
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are 18+ years of age. All characters and events depicted are completely fictitious...obviously.
Posted by Anonymous756493 Last updated: 6 hours ago
This is some pretty messed up shit. I've never posted anything on here before, but I have to get this off my chest somehow. It doesn't seem healthy to keep something this fucking crazy bottled up.
So...I guess it all started last Tuesday. I just got out of work at the local grocery store. It's just some dumb summer job I got before I start college in the fall. I happened to run into my friend Josh, who I hadn't hung out with in a while. I made a comment that I hadn't seen him since his 19th birthday party earlier that June, to which he mumbled something about being in trouble with his step-mom.
A quick word about Josh's step-mom, she is fucking HOT! I really can't overstate that enough. Tan, curvy, fake blonde, huge natural tits, need I say more? It was early in high school, around the time Josh's dad split town, that all the boys in our grade started openly fantasizing about getting with her. All us guys lusting after his mom used to piss Josh off to no end.
Anyways, back to my discussion with Josh in the parking lot. I was surprised and asked him what he'd done. My friend Josh is this scrawny, dorky, video game obsessed dweeb. I've never seen him drink; I've never seen him smoke. I couldn't imagine him getting into any real trouble. He responded that his mom had "found his porn collection."
I just couldn't help it...I started laughing my ass off. Josh's face turned bright red, but that only made me laugh harder. At the time, I figured this poor nerd's mother must have stumbled upon hundreds of gigabytes of Hentai...or some shit like that. I would soon find out that I was way off the mark on that one.
Fast forward to Friday afternoon, I get a text from Josh asking me if I want to hang out at his place. All we ever do when we hang out is play video games. (I'll occasionally smoke some weed if I got it, but sadly I've hit a dry spell.) I'm really not feeling it, but I also got nothing else going on. The deciding factor in my decision is the weather. It's sunny and in the 90s. There's always a chance Josh's mom could be laying out by the pool in one of her skimpy bikinis.
Boy does my hunch pay off! When I get over there, his step-mom, Miss Wilson, greets me in the tiniest string bikini I've ever seen. It's all I can do to make eye contact with her, and not let my gaze drift south. I literally can't believe my luck when she gives me a warm smile and a big hug. I can feel her huge juggs squish against my chest; it feels amazing! In the past, this would have pissed Josh off to no end, but he doesn't saying anything. He doesn't look angry at all, just nervous.
This is where I get my first hint that something is off. The three of us are talking in the kitchen. Josh's mom is asking me about my college plans in the fall. Completely randomly she shifts gears and points out her grandmother's antique vase sitting on the kitchen island. First off, the vase doesn't look at all like an antique. It looks like some thrift store crap you'd pick up for 5 bucks. Secondly, who leaves an antique vase in the middle of the kitchen? I just smile and tell her it looks lovely, not really knowing what else to say.
After a couple more minutes of chatting, Miss Wilson heads out by the pool. If it were up to me, I would creepily stare out the window at her all afternoon, but instead I reluctantly go upstairs to play video games with Josh. Normally, Josh crushes me at video games. It's pretty much all the dork does after all. Today though, he can't seem to win at anything. It's like he isn't focused at all. I'll be honest, it's kind of nice to win for a change!
Josh excuses himself to go to the bathroom at some point. The minute he's out the door, I lunge for his laptop. What can I say, I'm curious what sort of perversions Josh has exposed his unfortunate step-mom to. The laptop's pretty clean though. Josh must have learned a valuable lesson and hidden his porn trove better. I do find one link in the history though that leads me to a streaming porn website. The video is called "CUCKOLD HUMILIATED AND ABUSED." Before I can watch any of it, I hear Josh returning from the bathroom. I quickly close the window and shut down his computer.
When he comes back into the room, he asks me if I want any snacks. I'm not really hungry, but going downstairs to the pantry gives me another opportunity to gawk at his mom, so I quickly agree. When we get downstairs though, Miss Wilson is already back inside from her swim. Somehow, her attire has gotten even more revealing. She is still in her red bikini bottoms, but she has replaced her bikini top with a tight, white push-up bra. It takes all my willpower not to let my jaw hit the floor. Sitting at the kitchen table, she gives me a coy little smile as I walk past, like she knows something I don't.
'You want some trail mix?' Josh asks from the pantry door, his voice inexplicably trembling. I'm about to ask him if he's feeling ok, when he turns around a whips the bag of trail mix a full 3 feet to the left of where I am standing. I make a desperate grab for it, but I'm nowhere close. The bag collides full-force with the "antique" vase resting on the kitchen island, sending the vase crashing down to the floor below.
The vase explodes, and so does Miss Wilson! 'What have you done, you stupid boy,' she growls. It's only when she rises to her feet that I realize with shock that she's wearing 5-inch heels! Storming across the linoleum floor, she grabs Josh by a tuft of his brown hair. In her heels, she towers over her shrimpy step-son by almost a foot. My mouth is still hanging wide open as she begins hauling Josh by his hair towards the den. Josh, for his part, just whimpers and tries to keep up.
Alone in the kitchen, I finally shake off my confused stupor and start making a beeline for the front door. I have no fucking clue what to make of anything that just happened, but I know when it's time to make my exit. Halfway to the door, my heart jumps when I hear Miss Wilson call to me from the den. 'Sweetie, could you come in here? I could use the help of a strapping young man.'
There's something almost sensual in her tone. Against my better judgment, I abandon my escape plans and make my way towards the den. It's only when I step through the doorway that I see Josh kneeling on all fours on the carpeted floor. His mom is shoving his face into the cushion of their black leather reclining chair. His sweatpants and underwear are around his ankles, revealing a set of absolutely enormous nuts. I can't even begin to describe how huge this kid's balls are; they look like they belong on livestock! The fact that they are also completely clean shaven somehow makes it even more upsetting.
Needless to say, I freak the fuck out! I start backing out of the den on the double. It's all I can do to keep from breaking into a sprint towards the door. When Miss Wilson turns towards me, my pace slows. My god, she gorgeous! Her hips sway gracefully from side to side as she approaches me. 'Please don't leave,' she begs. 'I need your help.'
'What...what do you need?' I finally manage to stammer with Miss Wilson barely 6 inches from me. I'm a fairly tall guy, and in her heels the two of us stand pretty much nose to nose. I can't seem to make eye contact though. Instead I find myself staring down directly at her massive tits, bulging out of her little push-up bra. I freeze and let out a gasp as she steps around behind me and wraps her arms around my muscular shoulders. I feel her soft breasts press against my back. Her breath is warm against my neck when she finally answers. 'I need your help punishing him,' she says, pointing with a single finger towards her prone son. 'I'm just a weak little girl, and he's been so very naughty. I need the help of a strong man if he's ever going to learn his lesson.'
With her arms still clasped around me, she gently guides me so I'm standing directly behind her prostrate step-son. 'Kick him in the balls,' she whispers softly in my ear. 'Kick him right in those big, naughty balls.'
Praying that the madness will end if I fulfill her request, I snap a tentative kick into my friend's freakishly large nuts. Josh just grunts and spreads his legs wider.
'Oh, a strong boy like you can do better than that,' Miss Wilson chides me, while taking a seat on the leather couch just to my left. 'Maybe you just need a little incentive,' she adds with a wink, unfastening one of the five clasps running up the front of her bra.
Without thinking, I fire off another kick into my friend's groin. You probably think I'm monster, but keep in mind I've been dreaming about seeing Miss Wilson's big titties for the better part of a decade. My bare foot collides into Josh's meaty testicles with a loud SLAP. Josh's pathetic little whimper of pain brings me back to reality.
'Oh my god, what am I doing!' I exclaim with horror. I can feel tears of guilt welling up in my eyes as I bend down towards my friend. 'I'm so sorry, Josh! Are you...' I stop mid-sentence when I see it. Josh's penis can't be more than 3-inches long, but it's hard as a rock. Off the tip of his tiny wiener dangles a big drop of pre-cum. (A tiny penis and the testicles of a circus freak, I can see why poor Josh never used the locker room shower during high school!)
I can feel my face turning red with anger as I stand back up. I'm slowly connecting all the dots, the porn I found on Josh's computer, his mom's incredibly revealing attire, the "antique" vase that Josh just happened to "accidentally" break... Furious at the thought of being an unwitting pawn in my friend's perverted fantasy, I slam my foot for a third time into Josh's ball-bag and listen with satisfaction as he yelps in pain.
'That was the best one yet!' chirps Miss Wilson, as she undoes a second clasp on her bra.
I could stop right there. I could tell them that they're both sick and that they can go fuck off. I don't however. Instead, I fire off another shot into my friend's aching jewels. He moans into the chair cushion, but I'm short on sympathy. Miss Wilson gives me a cute, little smile and unfastens another clasp. I figure if the whole world's gone mad, I might as well use this opportunity to fulfill my lifelong dream of seeing Miss Wilson's huge knockers.
With barely a pause, I haul off and drive my foot yet again into Josh's increasing swollen nuts. Miss Wilson claps her hands with delight and loosens the fourth clasp. There is only one incredibly hard working clasp remaining now, struggling with all its might to contain the well-endowed MILF.
I take a deep breath and line up the two targets. For whatever reason, I have a strong urge to make this one really smart. I pull my foot back and let fly, being sure to add a little extra follow through. Josh lets out a shriek as I feel testicles mash against pelvic bone. Miss Wilson giggles with delight and removes the last clasp.
There they are, in all their glory! They're huge, tan, and perkier than they have any right to be for a woman in her late 30's. She slips her arms out of the bra straps and lets the lacey, white garment fall to the carpeted floor below. Giving me a big grin, she places her hands flat on the couch and shakes her upper body back and forth, causing her beautiful tits to bounce around in rhythm. I just stare on with my mouth wide open; this is better than I ever could have imagined!
She stops shaking and cups both breasts. 'Kick that naughty little boy again,' she begs. Turning to Josh, I can't help but notice a dark stain forming underneath him on the carpet. It takes me a moment to recognize what it is... a pool of the little pervert's own precum. I realize with disgust that I've literally been kicking the snot out of him. Any remaining pity I might have had quickly evaporates.
I take aim and slam my foot into my friend's bloated nuts. Josh moans in pain; his mother moans with pleasure. Without waiting, I send another one crashing hard into my friend's tender testicles. 'That must be so painful!' Miss Wilson exclaims. 'Do it again! Do it again!' she adds with almost childlike enthusiasm.
I gladly obey, thoroughly scrambling Josh's poor eggs with a series of a dozen or so rapid fire kicks. Josh is still gasping for air when I send a final haymaker sailing into his sensitive sexual organs. The hapless little turd shrieks a full octave higher. 'More, please hurt him more,' Miss Wilson pleads. She's begun playing with her hard pink nipples, violently pulling and tugging on them while biting her bottom lip.
At this point, I completely let loose on her son, driving home one nut crunching shot after another. His enormous balls flop around wildly under an unrelenting barrage of kicks. He must have his teeth clenched, because all I can hear are high-pitched whines and whimpers coming from the back of his throat. For the next 5 minutes, I give his throbbing nuts no reprieve; they are in an almost constant state of being mashed or mangled. Off to the side I can hear Miss Wilson whimpering with delight, continuing to play with herself.
Pausing, I look down to see Josh trembling at my feet. I feel a new sadistic side of me, one I never knew I had before today, take hold. Carefully lining up my shot, I deliver one last thunderous punt to my friend's swollen, red nutsack. It's a bullseye! Josh lets out a high pitched wail and buries his face in the recliner. I stand there a moment panting. I'm covered in sweat and my foot actually hurts a little.
'No! Please don't stop now!' Miss Wilson cries, rising from the couch. She approaches me with a half-crazed expression on her face. I can't help but notice that her red bikini bottoms are sopping wet. I jump as she abruptly jams her hand down my basketball shorts and grabs hold of my dick. Only now, with her warm hand around my penis, do I realize that I am fully erect. I can't help but wonder how long I've been that way.
'Oh, you're big!' she exclaims, gently stroking my cock. (Like any 19 year old guy, I've measured. I have 9-inches if you hold the ruler just right and round up a little.)
'Did you hear that?' she asks, looking down at her step-son. 'Did you know your friend had such a big, meaty cock?' Josh makes a pathetic sniveling noise into the chair cushion. His little penis quivers as it adds another thick strand of pre-cum to the growing pool on the carpet. Something tells me he heard.
'Please,' she says, turning back towards me. 'That wicked boy hasn't learned his lesson yet.' Seeing Josh trembling on the floor, I'm not sure what exactly gave her that impression. I'm not going argue though, not when that soft, silky hand running up and down my shaft feels so amazing.
'Can you do one last thing or me?' she asks. I nod slowly, not quite able to form words.
'I want to hear him cry,' she says in a sultry voice. Leaning in, she places a gentle kiss on my parted lips. 'Won't you please make him cry for me? I promise I'll make it worth your while.' I let out a moan of frustration as she releases her hold on my cock and sits back down on the couch. She gives me a big smile as she slides a hand down her drenched bikini bottoms and begins pleasuring herself.
I look down at Josh. His tiny pecker is leaking like a faucet in anticipation of what I'm about to do to him. I decide then and there that I won't disappoint the little pervert. I'm going to give this disgusting, little worm what he deserves!
I take my time lining up the crosshairs; I'm in no rush. I find it entertaining watching Josh shudder at my every slightest movement. When Josh is almost hyperventilating with anticipation, that's when I let loose. It's one nut splattering kick after another! Miss Wilson squeals with delight. Her son is also squealing, but more like a stuck pig. He buries his face in the chair cushion again, as he drools, froths, and blows snot all over the upholstery.
After several minutes of ramming my foot repeatedly into Josh's bare testicles with nearly all my might, the little guy is shaking like a leaf. Somehow he manages to keep his legs spread though, allowing me full access to his horribly battered genitals. Masochist or not, I can't even begin to imagine the sheer willpower it must take for him to keep his legs wide open while I rearrange his nut-meat over and over again.
After what must be well over fifty kicks, he finally collapses in a fetal position into a pool of his own slime. Sobbing, his left hand moves to shield his bloated testicles, while his right begins furiously tugging at his little pecker.
'Leave it!' Miss Wilson hisses, as though her son were a dog trying to steal table scraps. Josh whimpers and obeys. His right hand joins his left in cradling his enormously swollen nuts.
'It's time for your reward,' Miss Wilson says, turning my direction. She makes a beckoning motion with her right hand, while her left hand pulls aside her bikini bottoms to reveal her pink, perfectly shaven pussy. It's my turn to shake like a leaf as I slowly approach the couch. For all I've fantasized about this day, I never thought in a million years it would actually happen; I'm terrified! I yelp with surprise when Miss Wilson suddenly grabs my shorts and underwear and yanks them down. I step out of them and stand naked in front of her from the waist down. Before I know what's happening, she latches on to my erect cock, pulling me forward until I'm lying on top of her on the couch.
'Joshua,' she calls in the direction of her step-son, who's still twitching and groaning on the floor. 'Come here, I want to make sure you have a good view when your friend enters mommy.' He whimpers as he begins slowly and shakily crawling towards the couch on his hands and knees. 'Come on now,' his mother adds, 'place your chin on mommy's thigh. I want to make sure you can see.' He meekly obeys.
With her son's face resting 6 inches from both our genitals, Miss Wilson locks eyes with me. 'I want to feel you inside of me,' she moans. 'I want to feel all of you inside of me.' She grabs me by my bare ass and gives a tug. I push my hips forward and feel as I penetrate her warm hole. Her pussy is unbelievably wet. Not with 8 hours of foreplay could my ex-girlfriend ever have got this wet. With her eyes closed, and once again biting her bottom lip, inch by inch she takes me until I am fully inside of her (another thing my ex couldn't do). Josh snivels throughout the whole process. His tiny wiener is leaky again, although, to be fair, I'm not sure it ever stopped.
'Go get your collar, Joshua.' Miss Wilson calmly orders with her eyes still closed. I can see Josh's expression turn to fear. Once again crying, he starts making his way towards the entrance of the den. I make the mistake of turning to look at Josh's poor balls as he slowly crawls away. I can't help but cringe. It's painful just looking at them! The best way I can describe them are like those red Christmas bulbs, the large ones you hang on your tree. Now imagine two of those dangling between your legs!
Thankful to no longer have my friend's nose less than a foot from my junk, I begin thrusting harder. Miss Wilson groans with pleasure, but suddenly reaches out, placing her left hand on my chest. 'Please, just take it slow for another minute,' she whimpers. 'I'm so close...but we need to wait until Josh comes back.'
Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I slow my pace nonetheless. Trying my best to be gentle, I slowly shove my hips back and forth, feeling the MILF from the inside. I can't believe how tight she is. Her pussy grips down on my thick cock with each stroke; it feels amazing!
After a couple minutes, Josh comes crawling back into the room. From seeing the sorry state of his testicles, I suspect walking is currently out of the question for him. He shambles over to his mother and places a black remote control in her outstretched hand. I'm still confused where this collar of his is and what the remote is about...and that's when I see it! Noticing the expression of sheer horror on my face causes Josh's small penis to start twitching with excitement. Fastened tightly around his horribly bloated testicles is an electric shock collar, the prongs of which are jammed into the underside of his swollen scrotum.
Miss Wilson grabs a handful of my hair, drawing my attention away from Josh's new and terrifying predicament. 'Fuck me hard!' she orders. 'I want you to fuck my brains out.' Never have I heard a more beautiful sentence in the English language! Eager to obey, I begin plowing Josh's mom as hard as I can as Josh just watches on helplessly.
It only takes about 30 seconds before Miss Wilson closes her eyes shut and holds her breath. Then, without any further warning, she squeals and starts bucking wildly in the throes of the most intense orgasm I've ever witnessed. With her right hand she starts furiously rubbing her clit, while her left hand mashes the button on the black remote and holds it to her chest. Hearing a faint crackling noise, I glance to my right. Still on all fours, Josh's eyes are watering and his knees wobbling.
The minute Miss Wilson's eyes open, she shoves the remote at me with her left hand. 'Turn it up,' she manages to whisper, still catching her breath. 'Please turn it up.' Looking down at the remote, I see a dial with numbers ranging from 1 to 5. The arrow is currently pointed at 1. I've barely finished moving it to 2 before Miss Wilson snatches the device from my grasp.
I start going at her hard again. She moans and groans and sequels with delight. Off to the side I hear an occasional whimper from Josh. It's barely two minutes before her eyes close again. This time I'm ready for it. I think the second time is even harder the first. Her whole body is shaking, so much so that I'm worried she's going to fall off the couch. She clutches the remote to her chest with both hands. Her thumbs are white from just how hard she is squeezing the button. The crackling is louder now. Off to my right, Josh's jaw is clenched and his legs are shaking wildly. It looks like his eyes are about to bulge out of his head.
Miss Wilson has barely stopped trembling when she violently thrusts the remote at me yet again. 'Higher,' she begs. 'Make it go higher.' She moans with pleasure when she hears me click the dial over to 3. It doesn't exactly take a psychology degree for me to realize that something about me being the one to turn up the voltage on her son's nuts is doing it for her. Her hand is shaking when she takes back the remote. I know I don't have long until the next eruption, so I give it to her good. I enjoy the feeling of my balls slapping against her ass. It can't be more than 30 seconds before her eyes close yet again. Josh sees it coming too and let's out the most pathetic high-pitched groan.
'Fuck!' she shrieks with delight, 'Oh fuck yeah!' Even with her whole body trembling in the throes of ecstasy, she still manages firmly hold down the button on the black remote. Her son is shrieking too. After a couple seconds, Josh collapses on his side. His hands clutch at his abdomen and his feet kick wildly as his nuts continue to sizzle during his mom's minute long orgasm.
The minute her eyes open, she presses the black remote against my chest. 'Please,' she pleads, her voice trembling. 'Make them fry.' She bites her bottom lip and whimpers when she sees me turn the dial to 4. With the remote back in her possession, I really start laying into her. I am banging her so hard that her huge tits, already jiggling wildly, actually start hitting her in the chin. She just continues to whimper and take it. It's not long before her eyes close again. Poor Josh, still lying sprawled out on floor from his last dose of current, doesn't even see it coming.
Miss Wilson comes so hard I'm worried she might break the couch. Kicking and thrashing wilding, she keeps her right thumb jammed into the remote for the whole ride. The crackling is loud now and it's accompanied with a high-pitched wail. It takes me a moment to figure out that the wail isn't coming from the collar, but from Josh, who is spasming uncontrollably on the floor below.
When Miss Wilson's eyes open again, she looks almost frantic. Speechless, she thrusts the remote in my direction one last time. From the expression on her face, I realize that she is on the verge of coming yet again. I move the dial one final turn and gently place the remote back into her outstretched hand. I resume pounding my dick like a battering ram into her cervix; she gasps and closes her eyes. Off to the side I hear Josh begin to weep. I turn to see him frantically jerking his tiny hard-on.
Even though I see it coming, nothing could prepare me for the ferocity of Miss Wilson's last orgasm. Slamming her finger down on the remote and holding it over her head, she howls and bellows like an animal; it's completely bestial! Her screams, combined with the intense crackling of the collar, makes it almost surreal. Plunging my dick in and out of her tight pussy, I feel almost in a trance.
'Mommy!' Josh squeals. I jump, somehow terrified at the sound of his voice. Keep in mind that since this insanity started over an hour ago, I haven't heard him speak once. I look over to see him partially sitting up. His hands are both dug into the carpeted floor and his face is as red as a beet. 'Mommy you're cooking them! You're cooking my balls!' The words have barely left his mouth when that tiny, little prick of his goes off like a cannon. A huge geyser of his own hot, white jizz hits him straight in the face. I think he is as surprised as I am, because he just sits there staring at his own penis with his mouth wide open. It's only when a second enormous jet of cum nails him right between the eyes that his head collapses to the floor below. Still twitching violently from his ongoing testicular electrocution, I watch as that miniature dick of his sends one thick ropy strand of spunk after another sailing clean across the room. I just gaze on with slack-jawed amazement. It's hard to quantify scientifically, but I think it's safe to say his little wiener shoots around 5 - 10 times more cum than I ever thought humanly possible.
I'm not proud to share this, but it's while I am still staring at Josh with utter astonishment that I finally blow my load. Realizing that we never talked about protection, I try to pull out, but Miss Wilson's too fast. Wrapping her legs around my back with surprising speed for a woman just coming out of a violent orgasm, she prevents me from escaping. Her already tight pussy clenches down hard on my cock. (I don't think this woman has ever missed a day of kegels in her life!) 'I want it inside of me! I want every last ounce inside of me!' she screams. 'I want you to fill up my hole with your cream!' Letting out a single deep grunt, I proceed to have the most incredible, mind-blowing orgasm of my life.
Once I've finished ejaculating inside Miss Wilson, the room falls silent, completely and utterly silent. From a fetal position on the floor, Josh begins whimpering uncontrollably. 'There, there, honey,' coos Miss Wilson, as she sits up on the couch. 'I know what would cheer you up. Come over here and help mommy clean up.'
To be honest, I'm amazed that Josh is still able to crawl. Somehow he manages to wobble over to his mother and buries his jizz-caked face right between her legs. Miss Wilson moans with pleasure as her son starts eagerly licking her cum-filled pussy. I watch on with horror as his flaccid little prick once again grows rock hard.
Having blown my load has given me an entirely new perspective on the situation. I want out of the madness, now! I never actually ran track, but I'm pretty sure what I did has to break some sort of record. Scooping my shorts up off the ground, I break into a hard sprint out of den and down the hall. I slip my shorts on at the door. I see my shoes just lying there, but there's no time; I leave them. I hear Miss Wilson shout "wait," but before she can get out another word, I am out of the house. I'm hurl myself into my car and peel rubber down the street. From the time I grab my shorts, to the time I turn out of their sub-division, has to be under a minute.
So...there you have it. Now, two days later, I still can't stop thinking about that supremely fucked up afternoon! I've tried to rationalize it; I've tried to explain it away. There are no answers though. The only thing I get from thinking about it is a huge erection, but no catharsis.
The little bit I have been able to piece together goes something like this. Josh's mom probably did stumble across his porn collection accidentally. I don't see how else they would have figured out they shared the same sick perversions. Maybe she was angry with him initially, maybe that was a lie; I'm not sure. I have zero idea why they chose me to play the "lead role". My best guess is that when I laughed in Josh's face in parking lot that humiliation might have turned him on. The rest, from the time I arrived at their place, is pretty obvious...completely, totally, and utterly fucked up, but obvious.
If I wasn't psychologically scarred enough, they've started contacting me. Yesterday already Josh messaged me asking if I wanted to hang out, we just had to "be careful around the new chandelier my mom is installing." I didn't respond. Now, less than an hour ago, Miss Wilson texted me. She said she's worried about Josh. She thinks he might have more "naughty videos" on his computer and was hoping I could come over and help her look.
I don't know what to do! I know if I were smart I would ignore them, maybe move to a different county...if not country. I can't stop looking at the messages though. There's some fucked up part of me that is incredibly tempted to respond...
UPDATE: I've received literally hundreds of comments asking what happened, if I ever responded to the messages. I suppose I owe you an update. It's been exactly 2 weeks since my initial post and I've been over to the Wilson household 7 more times. It seems like with each visit their fantasies grow more depraved and violent. I know I'm probably going to need years of therapy after this summer is over, but somehow I just can't seem to say no to Miss Wilson. There's just something about that bombshell of a MILF that keeps me coming back. If I'm being completely honest, I've also started developing some sort of sexual pleasure from all the horrible things she has me do to Josh. The feeling of power I get from hurting him is incredible!
As far as my friendship with Josh goes, I know I should be furious with him. He lied to me and tricked me. He lured me into this fucked up situation just to satisfy his own perverted fantasies. Somehow though, I just feel bad for him. Don't get me wrong, I know that deviant twerp is enjoying everything he gets...in his own sick way. The growing number of carpet stains all over the Wilsons' home is proof enough of that! Still, with almost 6 weeks of summer left before college, I can't help but get the feeling the little guy might have bit off more than he can chew. Plus, those poor balls of his are starting to look like cantaloupes!
submitted by lbb404 to BallbustingStories [link] [comments]
2020.08.14 16:18 sweetandsourchicken The In-Depth Primer You've All Been Waiting For (feat. TONS OF RECEIPTS!)
Welcome to SmolBeanSnark. Here is our definitive outline with receipts on Caroline Calloway up until now. Please feel free to add your own favorite moments and receipts in the comments. We will continue to update as needed.
Who the F is Caroline Calloway?
Caroline is originally from suburban Virginia. Despite her family’s clear privilege and wealth, she claims she grew up in emotional poverty. At some point she changes her name from Caroline Gotschall to Caroline Calloway because she thinks the latter “would look better on the cover of a book.”
After high school she apparently spends a year traveling abroad but does not acknowledge the privilege of being able to afford this. Then she goes to NYU and begins her infamous friendship with Natalie. After three years at NYU she flunks out.
She applies to Cambridge three times and was finally accepted as a mature student starting in 2013. She claims that her lack of kneecaps constituted a disability so that she could live in a “nicer” dorm. Here she meets a Swedish polo player named Oscar and starts dating him. She makes money by listing her NYC apartment in the West Village on Airbnb. She gets many complaints that the apartment is absolutely filthy.
She gets minor fame on Instagram for documenting her life at Cambridge as a “Hogwarts-esque” fairytale with longform captions. She blows off classes to travel, goes to a lot of balls, parties, etc. She claims she is the first person to post a crying selfie on Instagram. Also is abusing adderall behind the scenes. Most people at Cambridge seem to not care for her portrayal of the school. She spends a lot of money to lavishly decorate her dorm room.
At some point she gets a book deal based on her Instagram following. The book deal is worth $500K and includes a $150K advance. The book is either titled “Schoolgirl” or “And We Were Like”. She advertises it as AWWL but then changes the narrative later when she gets called out for blowing the deal. She says that Natalie wasn’t her ghostwriter, just a collaborator on the book.
Oscar graduates Cambridge and moves to London. They get a flat in London and she spends outrageous amounts of money on stuff like antique Venetian chandeliers. They get two King Charles Cavalier Spaniel puppies. At one point someone claims they were having a party and the dogs pooped on the comforter, so Caroline just shoved the poopy comforter into the oven and kept partying. Eventually Caroline cheats on Oscar. They break up. The puppies are never seen or mentioned again.
As detailed in Natalie’s essay for The Cut, Caroline continually blows deadlines for the book. Natalie, who wants her share of the money, tries to push through and finish the book and Caroline has a full scale meltdown. After the due date comes and goes, Caroline claims that she didn’t write the book because the publishers wanted it to be about boys and she doesn’t want to write about boys even though her entire Instagram is about her relationships with boys. Some people say she didn’t want to admit that a lot of the stuff she wrote was flat out false. Natalie and Caroline have a huge falling out over this. Caroline starts selling pages of the book proposal on Etsy.
She goes quiet on Instagram for a while but is still active on Facebook and Snapchat. Some people have screenshots of things she was doing during this time. She goes to Italy to “detox” from Adderall. At some point she moves back to NYC.
At some point in 2017, Caroline doxxes Oscar’s new girlfriend because she allegedly made a CC fan account. Oscar messages Caroline and asks her to please stop talking about him and his new girlfriend. She responds that he “doesn’t have custody over their shared memories.”
She dates a guy named Conrad for a while. He’s some kind of travel trust fund guy who just goes around doing whatever he wants. They take a road trip to Nebraska. She promises to tell the story of what happened when she saw her relatives there but never does. She and Conrad tell each other “I love you” after two weeks of dating.
She moves to Seattle with Conrad. People who know him say he wants to break up with her but feels bad because she’s financially dependent on him. Eventually, she wants to move back to NYC and do long distance and they break up. She announces this in a post with her flower crown photo shoot of herself and Rachel Cargle. (Yes, that Rachel Cargle.)
NOW WE GET TO THE JUICY PART: THE SCAM! In December 2018**, Caroline has the idea that she’s going to host a world tour of “Creativity Workshops”. She posts that she’s going to host workshops in NYC, Chicago, Atlanta, Seattle, Austin, London, Amsterdam, and Dubai (among other places). She promises things that would clearly require a lot of work but she thinks will be fine, such as elaborate gift bags and personalized letters to every single participant. She orders an entire pallet of mason jars for the gift bags and doesn’t realize how large it is when the truck pulls up to her studio apartment in the West Village. She starts selling tickets for $165 a piece before she has even booked venues.
She starts to realize she can’t keep some of the promises she’s made. She tells her followers that now instead of personalized letters they’ll get a journal. She promises to “cook salads” for lunch for everyone, then asks if they would mind bringing their own lunches because cooking is hard.
A Scottish journalist, Kayleigh Donaldson, starts a Twitter thread that goes viral about how stupid this workshop idea is and how it’s clearly going to blow up in her face. She writes an article about Caroline and this scam for Pajiba. The Twitter thread goes viral. Caroline hosts her first workshop in Brooklyn and then puts a poll on her story asking if people would want to move all of the other events to Brooklyn. The answer choices are “Yes” and “Yes”.
Media outlets start to pick up on this whole ridiculous mess. Caroline backtracks and cancels her tour. She issues refunds. Then, she has a change of heart and uncancels her tour and also sends out an email asking for people who received refunds to actually pay “whatever they think it was worth.” She ends up doing maybe 3-4 events in NYC, DC, and in Austin.
Over the next few months she: buys a bunch of caterpillars but moves them around so much that they die, constantly posts about “going viral as a scam”, claims to be so broke that she buys a $13 aeperol spritz from a bar near her house every night so she can eat the bread and olives for dinner, posts herself jumping subway turnstiles because she “can’t afford” the $2.75 fare, and accepts Venmo payments from her fans who are worried about her financial situation.
Then begins the era of the “tittays.” She starts making these ugly watercolor paintings of her tits and selling them for $40. Then she realizes it could be a cash cow, ups the price to $80 and produces dozens of these cheap ugly things. Many of her fans buy them. She loves her boobs so much she posts a pic of her tits and tags her middle school as the location. She then immediately books a trip to the UK without shipping anything anyone bought.
She goes to Cambridge and claims she’s doing an “artists’ residency” when she’s really just staying in an Airbnb and walking around during the day. She takes photos of herself in a library and claims she wants to do a shoot for Playboy. She paints watercolors using the water from the River Cam. She takes polaroids of the Cambridge campus that she sells to her followers. She attends a ball and brags about doing coke in a church. She goes on a date with a dude, then when she finds out he’s going to be in NYC the next week she books a flight home. She says she decided to come home because she needs to ship the “Tittay” paintings.
Caroline and the Cambridge dude go to a party together and afterwards he tells her that her style is kitsch and he doesn’t like her enough to kiss her, but if she wants to have sex they can. They have sex and Caroline spends the next day on Instagram implying that he sexually assaulted her before she tells the story of what really happened.
She buys a book about Matisse’s cutouts and gets an idea. She traces Blue Nude IV on to color printed paper, cuts it, pastes it on to other printed paper, and starts selling these for $140 or more a piece. Caroline spends almost all of August spamming these “Dreamer BBs” to her followers. Sometimes selling the same one more than once. Many do not get shipped at all. Others are shipped and followers are disappointed when they arrive crinkled and bent. The Pardon My Snark podcast provides a great collection of screenshots.
In early September she finds out Natalie is going to publish an article about their relationship for The Cut. She posts a lot of crying selfies about how much she loves Natalie and how sorry she is that she hurt Natalie and how “if Natalie said it, it must be true.” This is when we get the infamous open mouth sobbing video where Caroline posts a time-lapsed video of herself gluing dreamer bbs and sobbing, with a quick turn to check herself out in the mirror before continuing.
Two days after the article comes out, Caroline gets the news that her father died. Many snarkers at the time feel very sorry for her and take a break out of respect. Caroline does an interview and a photo shoot with NBC News in which she says that she’s upset that Natalie mentioned her threats of suicide in the article. Later, this narrative changes to Caroline being upset that Natlie “erased her mental illness from the record” in the article.
Caroline does a live interview with the hosts of the Red Scare Podcast in Brooklyn. It… does not go well. She inexplicably touts it as a success anyway. She does a 9-part series of Instagram posts that are supposed to reveal something about Natalie and only gets to part 8. This is never mentioned again.
In a fit of selfriteousness, Caroline declares that she will be a vegan for environmental reasons. She continues to eat plenty of animal products including sardines, cheese, and salmon. When people call her out on this she says she’s allowed to have special treats. After a while, Caroline stops mentioning veganism or environmentalism at all.
In October, Caroline goes out to LA and claims she is taking meetings to make a movie about her life. She says that an A-lister is very interested and she claims she went to this person’s house for tea.She goes on a trip to the desert with a guy she’s dating and makes a post about her dad that is a picture of just her torso in a bikini saying that she is sexual and sexy and grief-stricken. When she leaves LA she says she will be back in a few weeks to finalize some deals. She does not return to LA or mention any movie project after this trip.
Caroline starts a Patreon where she promises exclusive daily story content for her subscribers. The Patreon is $2 a month and she gets a few hundred subscribers. She does a bit of close friends content then stops. Does not stop charging people for her Patreon. At one point she says she’s going to go to clear out her deceased father’s home and she will post that to her Close Friends. Then she gets mad that people would “expect” her to share something so painful with them. She rarely mentions her Patreon after this but despite producing no content, she still accepts $2 a month from hundreds of her fans.
For her 28th birthday, Caroline throws herself a $15,000 party at the Brooklyn Historical Society which she calls a May Ball. Many question the amount she spent on this party considering there was a lien filed against her in late October for failure to pay her rent. Her assistant does the real leg work of the party planning while Caroline spends endless hours painting little place cards for everyone who is invited. People are asked to dress like someone or something from art history. Many guests have cool and creative costumes. Caroline wears a cheap looking dress with visible safety pins and unbrushed hair with flowers that are falling out of it. She looks very wasted in most of the pictures.
After her birthday, Caroline goes to spend time in Florida where she makes crass jokes about masturbating next to her grandmother and thinks it’s revolutionary that she’s both a caring granddaughter and someone who has sex. While in Florida she decides she’s going to write a book about “going viral as a scam.” She says she is staying in Florida until the manuscript is done and it will publish in January on the anniversary of her workshops.
Caroline starts 2020 off by ordering two kittens off the internet. They were “on sale” and she got 2 for $3000. They are to be shipped to Florida in February. She posts about how hard “coding” is while putting together her Shopify site.
Caroline returns to NYC and Scammer goes up for preorder. A snarker did a very good summary of the timeline as Scammer evolves. She does some media rounds about the book but tells the press there will be no advance copies and if they want to review it they’ll have to order it. In late January, she announces that Scammer will ONLY be available by preorder and you won’t be able to get it in stores. She does a few offers where if you buy multiple copies of the book you will get dreamer bbs or hats or whatever. She says she will personally sign every copy of Scammer. By March 1 she says “today is the last day you can buy Scammer.”
Despite increasing global panic about the Coronavirus, Caroline takes a trip to Berlin in early March. She posts a lot about sitting in her Airbnb reading Jessica Simpon’s autobiography. She goes to Berghain in a Corona shirt and meets a guy and they stay up all night talking and having sex while high on molly. She thinks it’s special but the next day he’s kinda done with it and she is clearly upset but trying to act cool about it. She hooks up with a Soundcloud rapper from Twitter and thinks she’s cool because she hooks up with guys with tattoos.
After Berlin, Caroline returns to Florida. Her mother rents her an Airbnb and the cats are there. She is supposed to be in quarantine after returning from Europe but instead she goes to the grocery store because her mom bought the cheap brand of olive oil. At one point she strips the sheets off the bed and then sleeps naked with her cats on the bare mattress. When the two weeks are up, Caroline’s grandmother moves to her mother’s house so Caroline can stay in grandma’s condo.
Caroline says Scammer is ready, but the printers have now closed due to the pandemic, though she never discloses which printer she planned to use. She decides she’s going to write a three-part response essay to Natalie’s essay called “I Am Caroline Calloway”. She puts it on a website (iamcarolinecalloway.com) and puts it behind a paywall. Says anyone who purchased Scammer can read the essays for free. Everyone else is charged $10 and she says she’s going to give all the money to COVID relief. She says she will put one part up every Tuesday for three weeks. After the first part of the essay is posted and is 6,000 words rather than the 15,000 words she promised, she posts a full frontal nude to Twitter as an “apology.” She posts part 2 of the essay and does media rounds about donating $50,000 to COVID relief. Then she waits a few weeks, posts part 2.5, waits a few more weeks and posts “Part 3 Part 1”. The essay is never mentioned again.
The attention high of posting a nude to Twitter goes to Caroline’s head. She starts an OnlyFans account and charges $50 a month. When people ask why her price point is so high, she states that her “cerebral, softcore porn” is unmatched and that she is probably the only OF user with a Cambridge degree. Many established sex workers take this opportunity to dunk on her by posting their hotter, more artistic, and less expensive OF accounts. She also takes this time to tweet an antisemitic meme and pretend she didn’t know it was antisemitic.
During this time, Caroline starts dating a 20-year-old chef she meets from Twitter. At some point he comes to reddit and answers some questions about her including that she’s not really a keeper but he’s having fun. Later, his ex comes to reddit and posts screenshots of him saying he’s not that into Caroline. Caroline tweets that her pussy is so “bomb” that she changed his mind about her.
In June, Caroline posts on her story that she’s taking a break from Scammer because of the BLM uprising. Then she says it will ship at the end of June, but since she can’t sign the copies she will make stickers to come with the books. She posts photos of herself at the post office in a fairy costume at the beginning of July but does not clarify if these are the books or the stickers that she is shipping. In mid-July Scammer is still available for preorder.
Toward the end of June, Caroline does two back-to-back interviews on the same day. The first is an interview with the Cambridge Union in which Caroline insists that her primary income is from OnlyFans, doubles down on a racist Coronavirus meme she posted, and gets mad about communism only to admit she doesn’t really know what communism is. She says the interview went well. Then, she goes on to do Ziwe’s “Baited” show. She says she is the only person to have read James Baldwin’s “If Beale Street Could Talk”, says cancelling someone for a hate crime would be the same thing as a death sentence, calls Layla F. Saad “Layla Safad”, asks for ally cookies, and then asks Ziwe to say something nice about her because her manager is mad that she’s doing this interview. Afterwards, Ziwe gets a lot of positive attention because the interview was such a trainwreck and Caroline pretends she is in on the joke and it went well for her. Eventually she gets called out on Black Twitter and posts crying selfies about a depressive episode which is miraculously gone the next day.
Toward the end of July, a snarker notices that her website now says Scammer will ship August 31st. A week later, Caroline posts that preorders are still available. Another week later she posts a video to her story about how she is “reworking” Scammer because 2019 is no longer the “worst year ever” and now the book is going to be about 2020, despite the fact that she advertised that the book would be about the scam workshop and her father’s passing and the Natalie article.
submitted by sweetandsourchicken to SmolBeanSnark [link] [comments]
2020.08.13 05:35 mickey030210 Moms bare tits
I've been pondering for an hour...
And though I've not that smart...
No matter how much I think
A parasite did talk
I indeed have been sick for a long time...
But I have never hallucinated, did I?
Oh... Perhaps it just looks like that because the water scale got muddy...?
Or, I thought it was some kind of caterpillar...
from somewhere like crevice in the wall or sewer
since our house is a bit rusty and old I guess
Fuxk anyway that thing is talking to me
It's... trying to talk to me, right?
It's... attempting to communicate with pictures
it's like fiction
What does that mean?
Between a person and a person, that's...
Yes! It's saying two people holding balloons and going for a walk...!
I should try to answer
I'll throw a basic question
and hold a simple communication
I'm a human
Get me out of this cup
I saw you
Heard this is ear, no?
Think (you're) a parasite
Communication is going nowhere
What are you saying (each other)
I must design a picture that can be understood both systematically and intuitively
I'll deduce the most ideal picture based on the information I've gained from the TV
It's said to be an amicable and simple expression that can leave a good impression
I will stab your [redacted] twice with something razor-sharp or tapering or anything
$ ##&@... $8..You really can't make out shxt
Mom came home
Because of what happened earlier today
She goes to the bedroom without saying anything
I think it's safe
to continue the conversation now
Actually, we were rather having a talk pretty well before mom came home
Anyway planet I mean, God...No we are residing in your body...We didn't count up how many of us are numerically so not sure then do you usually count how many of your species there are? You don't...
I'm not sure because I'm drowsy...
But will I be surprised in full-swing from tomorrow then? Anyway I don't seem to be sane a bit...
Where did you guys come from?
Why are you living inside my body?
Then what about you? Where did you guys come from?
Why do you live on thus planet?
Because... Us humans were born on this... planet?
Idk it was always like that
Same, we don't know as well
I was just born there
We only were taught about our origins through history
We came all the way here by the advance of the civilization and technology
As expected, is this a dream
You're thinking 'as expected, is this a dream'
I stayed up all night
The chattering parasite is...
I have to go back open the ear
Can't you see the thing I'm wearing has shrivelled?
persisting saying it's going to go back into my body
Thinking 'If this either a hallucination or a dream then I'll soon wake up, right?'...
Is it too small to hear?
And decided to stay awake... Now morning
Alright if you don't like ear then choose
There are lots of places other than ear
[redacted]hole [redacted]hole [redacted]hole [redacted]hole which do you prefer?
I'm not waking up... Then is this really...
This isn't a dream?
Does this... make any sense?
I just feel like having a very realistic nightmare or something like that!
I'm saying that this doesn't seem real...
I used to see things because of originally having a fragile body
Have I really gone insane now?
Did my body break even more so that I've openly gone crazy? At last?
Gosh our planet
really is talkative
Sigh... I don't know anymore I should no longer try to decide
Sfx: thud thud
Guess I'll be going to school without having any sleep
How should I explain...?
A place where you learn knowledge? Heh
Sfx: heart throb
(Jung-seul Highschool) (Jung Hwang Ji)
So I came
A place where it teaches incredible knowledge even planet needs to learn
Sfx: shake shake
So it's an incredibly incredible place!
If that's what you think
What you listening
Darn! I was too careless!
Well...Duh! Yea music...!
I don't hear anything
He brought me in a hollow ipod
to not look suspicious talking with me
But an ipod with no sound
My planet will arouse suspicion
Yeah it remember it was normal to listen to something called [music] with this
Let's pretend to be [music]
*Sound of singing half-axxed tone deaf high note Im Chang Jung ballad song (TL: Im Chang Jung is a famous Korean ballad singer. Here's an example:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sF9sv9lT83A)
Heck... You listen this?
Eh?...Right! Yeah! The genre is hahaha...
Don't worry. I pretended to be a ballad song preferred by the public
He won't be suspicious
Weird dude listening to weird music
(Legitimacy Full-moon cake) (TL: The name's 삼립 정통 보름달 and it's a real thing: http://spcsamlip.co.kbrand/full-moon-cake/)
(Seoul milk) (TL: The name's 서울우유 and it's a real thing: http://www.seoulmilk.co.kenterprise/main.sm)
I bought them today as well
You only eat these
Sfx: murmur murmur
He buys me bread and milk like this almost every day
Thanks...Today as well
At first I wondered if this was a new kind of bullying...
I'll bring you a lunchbox tomorrow
You don't need to do this every day...
No I'm fine don't worry about me
Don't refuse either
Just take care of yourself
But since he's been doing this for 6 months... Probably not
Does he have a religion?
He's the one who let me have a normal life in high school
Because he treat me like this, the other kids...
treat me normally
I was an outcast till middle school
What's an outcast?
ganged up and mocked
and beaten up
and beaten up
and beaten up stuff
everything should be already prepared
Oh... You don't know yet well since it has to be done like this inside for the same thing to happen outside yeah yeah I wasn't thinking straight
It should be turned
What are you doing inside my body
The planet is also influenced when we make progress in civilization
Though it all differs depending on which way the progress is made...
Wasn't there something you felt?
(I grew an ear)
You're talking about ear, right? Yeah..What was up with that?
I'll be back in a minute after chatting for a bit
Chat? About what? With who?
I'm not a teat
What the problem?
It wasn't my nipple?! Since when?!
I'll be going back now
There's a problem inside
Is there something wrong with my body?
Who do you mean by they?
Prickly ones that are decisive, sturdy, and destroy
Seems like we won't be able to talk for a while
It might take a long time to solve this matter
The voice I've been hearing since yesterday has disappeared
Sfx: pick pick
No... Have I finally come to senses now?
All of that was a hallucination until now...
Everyone sit down we have a transfer student
Sfx: thump thump thump
My name is
Ju Dong Hwan
Ju Dong Hwan and...
Ju Dong Hwan
(Dong-am middle 19th graduate)
(Ju Dong Hwan)
Dad's an government offical mom's a professor
Rich, has many friends, athletic
The main bully who bullied me
for 3 years in middle school
Ju Dong Hwan
I'll be in your care I hope we get along well
submitted by mickey030210 to u/mickey030210 [link] [comments]
2020.08.08 12:38 lbb404 Moms bare tits
I need to give a little preface on this one, it contains MF/m ballbusting. For me personally, the allure of the ballbusting fetish is all about the humiliation. While MF/m is nothing I want to explore IRL, it's a fun fantasy to write about. Nothing seems quite as humiliating than to have your protagonist get his balls wrecked by another guy, while one or more girls just stand there, watching and laughing.
Anyways, would love to get your thoughts on MF/m ballbusting stories. Love them or hate them, please comment. It's always possible I'm alone on this one lol.
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are 18+ years of age. All characters and events depicted are completely fictitious...obviously.
Max biked through the open gate to his large, three story rural home. (Max's step-mom had done well for herself in the divorce settlement.) Max's journey home from the dean's office had been the typical harrowing experience. He went through the ritual of begging the beautiful dean for his clothes back, only to be denied as usual because, in her words, 'if she just gave him his clothes back he wouldn't learn his lesson.'
Mrs. Miller had been extra sweet though, and had given him the lacy red panties she was wearing as a birthday gift. She had even put them on Max herself, while both she and the dean laughed hysterically. As an article of clothing they had failed miserably, with Max's huge cock protruding over the top of them by at least a foot, and his two giant, swollen red testicles bulging out on either side. Max was still incredibly grateful though, and couldn't wait to sniff them nonstop as soon as he got home.
Being late October, it was dark and chilly by the time Max had got outside. Clad in only the tiny red panties, he had stuck to the shadows as he made his way to where he parked his bicycle that morning. Thankfully, since it was a Friday night, the campus had been a ghost down. He still had to worry about the town's lovely ladies in uniform though. The local police department (which strangely enough seemed to be staffed exclusively by beautiful, blonde amazons) always enjoyed giving Max a hard time. Worse still, he had heard in the news that the police department had just been issued new taser guns; Max was terrified! He wasn't necessarily terrified like any sane person in his position would be. To him, it was more like a scary new rollercoaster, both exhilarating and horrifying, that he knew he would have to ride eventually...whether he wanted to or not.
Max's house was just a few miles outside town. Through a combination of thinking of nothing but baseball and dead kittens, Max had been able to avoid getting any erections during his journey home. He knew from experience that his enormous hard-on made it almost impossible to ride a bike. Thankfully, the roads out of town had been mostly empty. Max only had to drive his bike into the ditch a couple times to avoid being seen by passing cars. However, even those couple times had still been murder on his balls, which were still throbbing from the punishment Monica had dished out in the locker room earlier that afternoon.
Not seeing his step-mom's car in the driveway, Max left the gate open. He walked his bike to the side of the house and leaned it against the building. Standing under the bright porch light, he looked down at his jumbo wiener flopping out the top of Mrs. Miller's little panties. The bulbous mushroom-head of his cock was crisscrossed with welts and bruises. He loved the way it looked! Even just admiring Mrs. Miller's handiwork with a ruler caused his penis to begin to grow.
Max had been extra on edge lately. For the last two weeks leading up to his birthday, Max's step-mom had absolutely forbid him from jacking off. For a boy with testicles the size of small plums, this was no easy task. She wouldn't even tell him why, or what she had planned. She just kept saying it was a surprise and that he would have to wait and see.
Max turned over the welcome mat by the front door and found the spare set of house keys. Given the shocking amount of times Max had arrived home completely nude over the past couple years, having a spare set had really come in handy. Max stuck the key in the deadbolt only to find that the door was already unlocked.
Entering into the dark living room, he made sure to lock the door behind him. He could have sworn he locked it before he left that morning. He set the letter and box the dean had given him down on the bench by the door. Remembering his exciting new birthday present, he quick stepped out of Mrs. Miller's panties. He really hoped he hadn't gotten too much ball sweat on them during the ride home. He stumbled his way across the pitch dark living room in the direction of the light switch. He flicked on the lights, illuminating the room for just a fraction of a second before what felt like a steaming freight train collided with his aching ballsack. Max let out a surprised squeal before crumpling to the carpeted floor below.
"Nut Shot!" Bellowed a voice Max recognized as belonging to his older step-brother, Jake. Max let out a pathetic half-laugh, half-groan. It was good to see that after almost two years of pummeling his younger brother's jewels every chance he got, Jake hadn't lost his enthusiasm for good nut punt. Despite a rocky start to their relationship, Max had become quite fond of his older step-brother over the years. To be certain, Jake did have something of a temper, but at the same time Max was an extreme masochist with two enormous targets, always ripe for abuse, dangling between his legs. So, in some ways, theirs was rather a symbiotic relationship. Even now, while still moaning and writhing around on the floor, Max's monster cock was already growing. Max couldn't wait to find out what he had done to piss off his older brother this time, or, more importantly, how Jake was going to make him pay for it!
"So..." Jake began, towering over his younger brother, "I heard some little pervert was snooping around the women's locker room again."
"It wasn't like that," Max moaned. He knew protesting wouldn't do him any good, but it was all part of the game. "Bullies shoved me in that locker."
"Really?" Jake laughed. Bending over, he snatched Mrs. Miller's red panties from Max's hand. "Did the bullies also give you these?"
Max didn't know what to say. He could tell his brother the truth, knowing that he almost certainly wouldn't believe him. However, on the odd chance he did, Max didn't want to get Mrs. Miller into any trouble. Faculty giving used undergarments to students definitely broke a couple rules, so he did didn't want that rumor going around.
"You screwed me over really good this time you little pervert," Jake said calming, while lowering himself and taking a seat on his younger brother's bare back. "Stephanie found out you were my step-brother, and now she doesn't want anything to do with me."
"You were dating Stephanie from the softball team?" Max wheezed. At 6'3 and 220lbs of muscles, Jake was a giant when compared to Max. He towered over his younger brother by nearly a foot, and had almost 100lbs on him.
"Dating is such a strong word," Jake responded. "I would put it more like...I was fucking her." Flattened against the carpet, Max huge dick began twitching just at the mere mention of fucking the big-titted freshman.
"I like to keep my options open," Jake paused, before delivering his punch line. "You know how that is, right?"
Jake laughed hysterically at his own joke. Max gasped for air. Max's enormous penis throbbed with delight.
"Of course, that's over now," Jake growled, all the humor instantly leaving his voice. "You know you're going to pay for fucking me over like that."
"No, please! I'm so sorry Jake, I didn't mean to..." Max moaned, trying to act as pathetic as possible. "Please, my poor balls can't take anymore!" The playacting was all part of the fun. In truth, Max couldn't wait for his brother to start exacting his revenge on his swollen testicles.
"Come on," Jake said, rising to his feet. "Present them now. With the mood I'm in, it would be smart not to keep me waiting."
Max rose to his knees and spread his legs, burying his face in the carpet. He let out a few exaggerated whimpers just for effect. His whole body was shaking with excitement; he hoped Jake read it as fear. The best part though was the tension of not knowing when it was coming. Max could just picture Jake taking his time and lining up the crosshairs on his massive nuts, which by now were so bloated and red that they probably looked a lot like two ripe tomatoes to his older brother.
When Jake's foot finally slammed into Max's exposed testicles, it came with such force that it took his younger brother's knees clean off the ground. Max came crashing down on his stomach and just lay there a moment, twitching and gasping for air. It had been a truly epic kick; Max couldn't wait for the next one!
"My balls...my poor, poor balls" Max whined, while the same time rising back to his knees and spreading his legs with no prompting.
"Oh, shut up, you little freak!" Jake laughed. "You know you fucking like it."
Max's face turned bright red, and he felt a twinge of anger. As much as Max craved abuse, he would never admit it, not to college girls, not to the dean, and, sure as hell, not to his own step-brother. No matter how hard his cock got, or how much it leaked, he would deny everything. Over the past year two years, Max had clung desperately to this last shred of dignity.
"Yeah...well if I like it so much, why are you doing it?" Max asked in a defiant tone.
Jake grumbled, searching for a retort. Finding none, he instead pulled his foot back.
"Oh my god!" Sarah shrieked. "What are you doing, Jake?!" Max spun his head around to see his step-mother practically sprinting down the hall towards the living room. Even in her thick fall sweater, Max couldn't help but notice how her heavy breasts bounced up and down as she approached. In all the evening's excitement, he hadn't even heard his mom's car pull into the garage.
"How many times...seriously...how many times..." She paused, stopping to rummage around inside the dryer, "have I told you to put down a towel if you are going to roughhouse with Max?" 'Roughhousing' was the euphemism Sarah used for whenever Jake was pounding on his younger brother.
"I just had the carpet washed last week," Sarah went on, while laying a bath towel underneath Max's leaking dick. "I don't want this little slug, birthday or not..." she paused and gave Max a smile and a kiss on the forehead, "dirtying it up right way."
"Sorry Ma," Jake replied, looking sheepishly at the floor. Jake was always well-mannered when it came to his mother.
"It's alright. Just remember in the future, or I'm going to have you pay for the next carpet cleaning," Sarah said with grin. "So what did he do this time?"
"The little shit was in the women's locker room again," Jake replied, the anger in his voice returning.
"Really? Again Max?" Sarah asked, sitting down on the living room couch. The tone of her voice sounded more amused than disappointed.
"If he wants to go into the girl's locker room so bad, I thought I'd help by turning him into a girl!" Jake snarled, while at the same time ramming his foot once more into his brother's bare testicles.
"Bullseye!" Max squeaked, his voice an octave higher, before collapsing into the fetal position. Sarah started giggling; a smirk even flickered briefly across Jake's scowling face.
Max spent a moment flopping around on the carpet clutching his enormously swollen balls. However, just as soon as the pain had subsided enough for Max to form coherent thoughts, he was right back on his knees again, his legs spread even wider than before.
"Honey, you really think that's safe?" Sarah asked, as Jake lined up his next shot. Max and Jake both gave their mother the exact same confused look.
"Well...I just mean you spent most of last year's basketball season on the bench with an injured ankle. You really think that's a good idea?" Sarah said, pointing down at Jake's bare right foot. "At the very least, you should have some ankle support."
"I'm sorry Jake, I didn't even think about your ankle," Max groaned, not wanting to pass up this unique opportunity for even further humiliation. "I would feel just awful if you hurt yourself kicking my pathetic nuts."
"Max, could be a sweetie and go fetch Jake's shoes?" Sarah said. Her voice sounded completely serious, but Max couldn't help but notice a sly grin spread across his step-mom's face. Max's response was less subtle yet, as his monster rod began literally pulsating with excitement.
Max started crawling on his hands and knees across the carpet towards where his brother's shoes were laying. Truth be told, while his legs felt somewhat rubbery, he was probably still more than capable of walking; crawling just made it so much more fun.
"Max!" Sarah said with an urgency that made Max spin his head around. "Remember the carpet!" His mom's grin had evolved into a devilish smile.
Max knew exactly what his mom wanted him to do. He picked his left hand up off the carpet as his cock trembled with eager anticipation. Rubbing his pointer finger back and forth across his dick slit, it wasn't long before Max's finger was thoroughly lubricated with precum. Max took a deep breath, as he began shoving his finger up his own cock hole. There was a little resistance at first, but it wasn't long before Max's monster cock had greedily devoured his whole finger, up to the knuckle. Although it didn't hurt that bad, Max still whined and sniveled throughout the whole process, mostly for the entertainment of his mom and brother.
"Oooh, all the way up to the knuckle," Sarah chuckled, with a sadistic glint in her eye. "I'm very impressed!"
"Hope you enjoy that," Jake added with a snicker. "That's probably the only kind of fucking that freak dick of yours is ever going to get."
With the rest of his family still laughing at him, Max continued crawling awkwardly with only one hand towards Jake's shoes. Arriving at the size 13 sneakers, Max briefly considered his options. He could probably grab them in his right hand and still be able to crawl back, but what fun would that be? Instead he stuck his face right into his brother's stinky old sneakers, fitting the lining of both shoes in his teeth. Completely naked, his left pointer finger buried in his cock, and carrying his brother's shoes in his mouth, Max slowly crawled back to where his brother was standing.
"You better not have gotten any drool on them," Jake said with a sneer as he took the shoes from Max and began putting them on.
"Max, you tend to flop around a lot when you and your brother roughhouse," Sarah said, trying her best to stifle any giggles. She pointed his impaled cock. "Why don't you keep your finger up there just in case you roll off the towel."
"Yes Ma'am," Max replied, eager to please his mother. Crawling back over the towel, he positioned himself into a tripod, burying his head in the crook of his right arm.
"Is there anything you'd like to say to your brother, Max?" Sarah asked, again trying her best not to laugh. Max could see she was having as much fun with this as he was. God how he loved her!
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble with Stephanie, really I am. I'd do anything to make it up to you" Max paused, as his perverted little mind came up with a brilliant idea that he thought would make everyone happy. "What if you taped it?"
"Taped it?" Jake asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"Yeah, taped it!" Max said, becoming increasing thrilled with his own idea for even further degradation. He could just imagine how a video like that would spread around campus like wildfire. "Maybe if you showed Stephanie that you had taught me a lesson she would forgive you."
"That's a great idea, Max!" Sarah said excitedly, pulling out her cell. "I can record it on my phone."
"Hmmm...that might just work," Jake chuckled.
"Just remember," Max said, feeling goose bumps form all over his naked body as he spoke, "she'll be more likely to forgive you is if you absolutely pulverize my sorry balls. No matter how much I squeal, shriek, or beg, you need to pound my nuts like never before. After all, it's what I deserve for being such a gross pervert and creeping on the girl's locker room.
"Trust me," Jake said with a cruel smile, while at the same grinding his right shoe into his brother's battered testicles. "That won't be a problem."
Max was shaking like a leaf with excitement when the beep from his mom's phone told him they had started recording.
submitted by lbb404 to BallbustingStories [link] [comments]