Does the title give you a bad feeling about this? It should.
There it was again. Brad’s mom’s tone that told him everything he needed to know about what came next. Bitch.
“What do you think you were doing?!” she said, her blonde head at a tilt, her eyes flashing angrily.
“I was just throwing away these old minutes I found under the bed.”
“We have AT&T rollover, those minutes are as good as blahblahblah…”
Brad did as he always did, zoned out and let her go right at it. Her
mouth flapped at remarkable speeds, he used to be amazed and just stare
at it, going and going. The cunt just never let up. And it was only
ever about this. Minutes. Fucking minutes. She’d caught him doing tons
of stuff. When she found the tobacco box with his weed in it on his top
shelf. When she walked in on him beating off to her ‘Victoria’s Secret’
catalogue. Hell she even caught him getting head from his cousin from
another part of the family when they went West for Uncle Ralph’s
funeral. She barely even blinked about that shit. But waste precious
minutes. Prepare for bruises on your ass from the tongue lashing.
Brad check to see if she was still talking. She was. He zoned out again.
Sound familiar? Maybe this rings a bell… or more precisely, a ring tone.
Yes, it’s an FFF first — the first erotic fan fic featured based on a commercial (I’m pretty sure. I block most of these out after a few weeks, to be honest). It’s a erotic tale of love and lust — wait, no. It’s about the stupid minutes-wasting teen raping his stupid minutes-obsessed mom. My bad. Check your reception and join me after the jump, won’t you?
It was fucking hormones. Or menopause. Or maybe because dad never
fucked her anymore. Brad knew about Stacy from work. And Melenie from
the gym. And Kathy from college. Most girls wouldn’t fuck a married man
but once they’d meet his mom for the first time, they’d fuck dad out of
goddamn pity. And the whole family suffered so dad wouldn’t. Mom’s
vagina must as full of cobwebs as the temple in the beginning of
‘Raiders of the Lost Arc’ and twice as musty. Mom wouldn’t get fucked
outside of the house, she was just Baptist enough to drag everybody to
church and not get fingered by the bagboy at Megamart. There was no
fucking end in sight. Still talking.
The Verizon network should really think about hiring the author, Galactus, to pen a few more of these. The story’s barely started and I already want to switch from AT&T.
His arms shot out in front of him, slamming into his mom’s shoulders
and forcing her against the far wall, knocking the breath out of her.
Her eyes bulged in surprise, her lower lip trembling for a moment in
shock, minutes slipping from her hands.
“Bbb…Brad…” she stammered, confrontation in her voice. “You can’t treat me like that, I’m your moth…”
Brad clapped a hand tightly over her lips, forcing her entire body flat against the wall.
“Shut the FUCK up mom.” He hissed, brushing his long brown hair out of
his eyes, now glowing with frustration. “If I have to hear one more
fucking word about your goddamn minutes I’m going to toss you down the
goddamn stairs myself…got it!?!”
She didn’t nod. She didn’t even blink, just stared with her big doe
eyes, full of fear. She was pathetic. He told her so. She actually
seemed really scared and that made Brad all the more pissed off.
Pressing her to the wall, her hips squirming slightly under her jeans,
Brad felt himself going too far. He couldn’t live this down with her,
not like she was. Maybe he hadn’t gone far enough. Maybe his point
wasn’t clear enough as it was. It was lesson time in this house.
Well, that’s perfectly reasonable. Write a stern letter, Brad!
Unclamping his hand from her mouth she tried to whimper his name before
he threw her violently onto the bed, the springs creaking as she landed
roughly. She tried to get up but he got there first straddling her
backwards, her chest pressed to the bed sheets.
God I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought, his legs squeezing her
thick ass. He knew what he was doing but his mind didn’t really compute
it, only being generally aware in a prickly hot sense. As he reached
for her pants he felt hesitation, as if this where all an illusion and
by making that choice it would make the action real. Grinning he
…or rape your mother. Whichever you feel makes the most sense.
She struggled a little, whimpering his name over and over as he
unbuckled and tugged her big jeans over her butt and down around her
ankles. She was surprisingly quiet however and her arms flopped and
floundered at him rather than fight in any real way. She was too weak.
Stupid weak. He tasted salty and realized he was sweating. His pants
bulged and he felt a weird sick horny he hadn’t felt since he was a
kid, just beginning to play with himself.
I get the idea the author that the author knows this feeling intimately.
“God look at that fat ass,” he said out loud. “All that family buffet night huh mom?”
If it was a family buffet, weren’t you there, Brad?
She lay silent, looking ahead and shaking.
Brad stood up from the bed and crossed to where he first assaulted her,
scooping up a handful of her precious minutes that she had carelessly
dropped. Turning them over in his hand he went back to the bed. She
tried to turn over and escape but her jeans prevented anything but the
clumsiest movement allowing him to restrain her with ease. He teasingly
spread her cheeks looking down at the little salmon flower of her anis,
tight and untouched. Indignation boiled up inside him. Of course. Dad
never got any of the backdoor treatment. Mom the good Baptist. Mom the
conservative mother. A bitchy little ass virgin who couldn’t be
bothered to service her husband in even the most basic ways. No wonder
he slept with all those other whores.
“Little salmon anis” is so, so much more disturbing to me than any of the myriad filthier ways FFF authors have used to describe assholes in the past.
“You know maybe mom…instead of talking our ears off all the time about
minutes you could save money by hitting the fucking buffet a little
“Brad please what are you AH!”
Gripping one of the orange minutes in two fingers Brad pressed it
against the clenched mouth of Mom’s anis, slowly forcing it past the
puckered lips into the cavity. She whined miserably, fists balling up
handfuls of sheets as he inserted the minute. He looked proudly at his
work, and fished for another.
OH GOD IT WASN’T A MISSPELLING HE REALLY THINKS IT’S SPELLED “ANIS” AAAAA. ALSO I DON’T THINK THOSE MINUTES WILL ROLLOVER ANYMORE
“Don’t you know mom? Saving minutes…”
With two more bulging inside of her rectum, Mom’s anis finally started to show a little wear growing an angry red.
I know you’ve just read about a son shoving what are essentially poker chips up his mom’s ass, but let me assure you I mean it when I say it’s about to get significantly worse. This is the time to bail out. Really. You’ve been warned.
“Oh what a waste huh? Minutes down the tube. But wait? We can reuse the
right? You always say we can reuse them. Well let me get them then…”
Fishing with two fingers, Brad dipped into his Mom’s hole, and worked
one out gently. Flipping her over he sat on her chest, letting the fat
bulge in his jeans rest on her heaving breast.
“But, oh, look at it. It’s so gross and used. Who would want to use
something as nasty as this? Huh? Would you? I mean it’s all covered in
your fucking gross ass juices who would want that huh?”
“Who would even want to write about that in an elaborate erotic fan fiction, huh? I can’t imagine! Gross!”
Grabbing a fistful of her conditioned blonde hair he pressed the
dripping minute to her clenched lips, rubbing the filth on her, making
his point disgustingly clear. Shifting his grip to her jaw he forced
the lips open and slid the tainted minute into her gullet. Forcing her
jaw shut with both hands he forced her to taste it, her breath choked
out through her nose in little gags. After a few moments of disgust,
Brad released her jaw, letting her cough and gag, saliva sliding down
her jaw in slimy puddles. Glaring down, breath high and excited, penis
stretching out his tighty whiteys Brad couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck
her. He wanted to fuck her mouth. She pleaded with him as he zipped
down his zipper and she hollered a little when he yanked out his bright
shiny erection but when he put it in she didn’t bite down.
Thank god for little mercies. How’s that for praying mom?
Maybe I’m the weird one, but I try not to stick my penis in things if I think there’s even a 5% chance of it biting. 10% might be reasonable, but I say better safe than sorry!
He yanked on her hair with both hands, jerking her mouth down on his
cock in wet gooey bursts. He regretted being so close to cumming
already, this was incredible. The combination of sexual release along
with the terrifying guilt of what he was doing and the outburst of
frustration and anger. This was therapy with a happy ending.
That is true only in one tiny sense, and incredibly false in so many, many others.
His balls dripped with her spittle, his tight pink head sliding slickly
over his mother’s tongue, the sick sucking noise her lips made when he
forced his cock over them. He closed his eyes, feeling the building
heat and pleasure inside rising. God. God bitch. Oh god bitch your
mouth is fucking great. If only I had the balls to do this earlier we
could have used it for so many better things than talking about your
stupid fucking minutes.
“Oh my god Brad what are you doing to mom?!”
His little brother.
I like to think this is where Brad draws the moral line. Raping his mom in the mouth over an argument about cellphone minutes? That’s fine. But his brother watching him rape his mom? That shit’s fucked up. Brad should see about getting his little brother some help, the pervert.
Brad came, his spunk bubbling out of the corner of mom’s mouth before
she spat out his cock. White seed draped and drizzled down her sweaty
features, covering her nose and eyes, and getting stuck in fat globs in
her hair. Brad didn’t see this however as he was staring wide eyed at
his brother. The little boy ran, and Brad started to go after him,
clumsily jerking his jeans over his still considerable erection, little
bits of cum dripping on the carpet. He stopped a minute and ran back to
the beside, grabbing the minute he forced into his mom’s mouth, still
gooey with drool. Holding it gingerly between two fingers he put a star
on the back with a permanent marker and held it in front of his moms
bloodshot dazed eyes.
I feel genuinely bad for these actors. I mean, if you’re a star, or in a big movie or popular TV show, if you’re at all cognizant of the depths of humanity, you know people are writing horrible fan fiction about you. It’s just par for the course and you do your best to forget about it, but it comes with the paychecks and the fame and so forth. But the people who played the mom and Brad in these AT&T commercials? They couldn’t have expected this, nor should they. They’re just day players who caught a break and filmed a couple of annoying cellphone commercials. They’re not famous. No one even knows their names. And yet, now some sicko has written his horrible fan fic starring them. That’s fucked up, people. That’s not right.
“You see this minute?” he said hurriedly. “This is yours now. You
fucked it up, you use it. You remember where I put it and what I did to
you with it. You’ll use it and I’ll know with this little mark. You use
it and remember how fucking unusable it should be. Maybe then you’ll
lean there’s stuff more important than saving money.”
He pushed it into a thick puddle of cum on her forehead, the sticky goo
holding it in place as he left the room after his brother.
SYMBOLISM! And that’s the end; what Brad intends to do to his inadvertently peeping brother will forever remain a mystery unless Galactus writes another chapter, and I’m stupid enough to read it. I don’t think the odds are particularly good on either happening. I know this one was rough, but I’m sure you’ll forget about it soon enough. I mean, it’s not like you’ll think about the cellphone kid raping the cellphone mom every time you use your cellphone today. Because that would suck!