/lit/ - Literature

Once upon a time, OP was a faggot.

>>1114154
gtfo

I guess no one here writes? Just discusses books?

have fun getting caught for plagiarism eventually faggot op

Fifteen years have passed by. Fifteen years since my father died, at my birth. A tragic accident involving a lot of confusion, a rampant umbilical cord and asphyxiation. I never knew him but I still miss him. He made me; I am a part of him. We got split up too soon. We could have done so many things together like fishing and other things. But here I am, alone. With only my mother as a companion, who I fuck.

‘Sisyphus’, I recite ‘the pain of eternal torment. Can pain still have meaning in the absence of time?’ I lay down the book and stare lazily out the window at the cow. It milks itself with wild gestures while bats dance in the white rain.

A knock on my door. ‘What are you doing Thomas?’ Home from work early I guess. My mother poses in the opening of the door wearing nothing but a breastplate and a helmet. The hair of her lower parts spreads towards her legs like roots. The filthy forest, birthing Oedipus with all his sins.
‘I’m reading a book.’
‘Is it good?’
‘It’s the best book ever written.’, I exclaim without a hint of irony.
‘Sage..’ she mumbles softly. I don’t get a chance to ask what she meant, my voice is drowned in the sounds of her clanking armor. She takes of her helmet and shows me those evil eyes. It’s time again. The pain is eternal; time is still here.

She moves towards me. Fast and firm with ankles of steel, her marble arms lift me up and place me helpless on her shoulders. I try to drown the mind in dreams and thoughts of other places but I’m still here. The cow moows and the bats sing the song of milk. Dairy sonar reflecting the return of a fatherkiller. Throwing me on the bed she chains me in the fluffy chains. They might be fluffy but they are also strong. I have the physique of a 12 year old girl.

Her tongue glides slowly like an adder over the flat surface of my skin. It follows the route of clichéd pleasure pursuing nipple after nipple, resting in the neck and ending on the lips. I hate her. I press my mouth shut but she invades in a bloody Blitzkrieg of the body. It slithers inside me searching for the thing I took away. This is what revenge tastes like. This is hate. We kiss for 10 minutes. Her leather Cowboy boots from the shop where she always goes to except when we go to the city anyway so she can get them there rub against my legs. Unbuckling my belt with a yank, yelling ‘Yanush….Eli Eli, lama Sabaktani’, she cries tears on my exposed member before diving in and slobbering at the tip of my rockhard hot horny pumpfuckrod. I moan along with the cow. I never asked for this. Matricide. I’m sorry dad. Let’s complete the work. Burn forever.

I ride away towards the sunset in a sea of milk, bats carrying my helmet to relieve the weight, free at last.

>>1114208
>>1114212
Don't know why I couldn't stop chuckling while reading this.

>>1114171

Hey faggots
my name is john and I fucking love my mom. She is a hot, awesome businesswoman who spends all day fucking me. I mean, I guess it's fun fucking family members because of your own inability to get laid, but she takes it to a whole new level.

She wasn't a stranger, she hit me with her best shot. It was pretty much perfect. We were frenching at home, then my little brother comes home and we break it off. I'm captain of my football team, what sports does she play besides "make out with her fucking son?" I also fucked her, so now she's my banging hot girlfriend (she just blew me, shit was SO cash). She is awesome, and should come home from work early more often so we can fuck more.

Pic unrelated, there isn't one.

>>1114241
this doesn't even make sense

OEDIPUS:
What sort of reply is this? For what you say
gives me neither confidence nor fear.
CREON:
If you wish these people nearby to hear,
I am ready to speak, or should we go inside?
OEDIPUS:
Speak to everyone, for I consider their pain
more important even than that of my own soul.
CREON:
I shall say all I heard from the god.
Phoebus clearly ordered us, my lord,
to drive out the pollution being fostered
in this very land, not to nurture it unhealed.

>>1114232
i hope it can 'satisfy' the OP

>>1114212
>>1114208

>>1114208
>a rampant umbilical cord

Francine Wildermuth sat slumped in her Barcalounger watching the television, with her stout legs (which terminated in sexy ankle-length leather boots) propped up on the coffee table. On the TV Oprah Winfrey was interviewing an Australian lady about some sort of "secret". Francine Wildermuth sighed. She had a secret of her own. A dirty secret. The Australian lady on the television said something about "the law of attraction". Almost without thinking, Francine moved her hand down between her ample thighs. Because that was her secret. Attraction. Sexual attraction.

It had been 15 years since her husband, Orville Wildermuth, had died in a tragic combine-harvester accident, only a week after Orville Junior was born. But now that Orville Junior had just celebrated his fifteenth birthday, he was the spitting image of his dad. The same hazel eyes peering out behind wire-framed glasses, the same plump face and slack jaw...the same way his sweatpants bulged to reveal a package of prodigious proportions.

The door to the double-wide trailer-home pushed open. It was Orville Junior, home from middle school. Francine quickly pulled her hand from between her thighs and pressed the mute button to silence Oprah. "Orv!" said Francine. "Come here and give me a kiss."

Orville waddled over to his mother's naughahyde-upholstered recliner and leaned down to give his mother a peck on the cheek. At the same time Francine turned to get a better look at him, and their lips met.

And melted into a kiss.

A moist kiss, as Francine gave way to the desire she had suppressed far too long, and shoved her tongue into Orville Junior's mouth, like pushing an oyster into a slot-machine....

To her shock and surprise, Orville Junior kissed her back. She reached out her liverspotted hand to see if a tent-pole had sprouted beneath Orville Junior's sweatpants. But just as she made this tentative feint towards the most transgressive, yet most attractive, grope of her life....the door swung open again.

Damn. It was her other son. The black one. Kwame. Whom she'd begotten during an inadvisable one-night-stand with a negro short-order-cook, in the dark alcoholic haze of the years following Orville Senior's death.

Orville Junior pulled away from the kiss before Kwame could notice what was going on. He covered his crotch with his algebra textbook and turned towards the door of the trailer to face Kwame.

"You're home early from elementary school," said Orville Junior.

"What you talkin' bout, Orville Junior?" said Kwame, insolent and brash.

"Boys!" sighed Francine from her Barcalounger. "Don't fight! Go to your room and do your homework."

Kwame immediately slipped into the bedroom he shared with his white half-brother. Francine looked longingly at Orville Junior before he turned to follow. "Later..." she whispered, huskily. "I need this."

"So d-d-d-d-do I," said Orville Junior. He even had the same obstinate stutter as his late dad. Just the sound of it made Francine's clitoris leap beneath her Lycra leggings like a Mexican jumping-bean.

>>1116057

> the oyster in slotmachine

you got me there

>>1116060
>>1116057
lollin pretty hard

The next morning, Francine made breakfast for her two sons by pouring Fruity Pebbles into a pair of coffee cups. After they finished munching, Kwame excused himself---he wanted to get to school early that day, so he could slash the tires of the school principle.

As the door of the trailer shut behind her little mulatto bastard, Francine looked at Orville Junior, who was now eating a fistful of dry Fruity Pebbles straight from the box.

"I think we have some unfinished business," said Francine, opening her floral-print housedress to reveal her nude body, reminiscent of the Venus of Willendorff if the Venus of Willendorff had worn sexy ankle-length leather boots.

Orville Junior looked at the body of his fifty year old mother, and could see her nipples were already taut as her breasts swung in front of her knees, like a pair of pendulums that pointed the way to her snatch.

Orville Junior stared between his mother's legs.

"You've already been there once," Francine whispered, "don't you want to go back?"

"Y-y-y-yes," he stammered. "Just like D-d-d-d-disneyland."

"Except you don't have to pay to enter me, Orville Junior," said Francine, and spread wide her ample thighs to reveal her vulva, bright as a carnivorous orchid, pullulating lubriciously like a hungry baby starfish....

>>1116089
MOAR

Orville Junior yanked down his sweatpants, to reveal his turgid manhood, already straining towards that vagina from which it had emerged (along with the rest of him) some fifteen years ago....

"Come to Momma," said Francine Wildermuth. "Because Momma wants to cum."

Orville Junior pushed his mother backward onto the floor of the trailer, where her well-upholstered body shuddered like a jello-mold landing on a trampoline. Her legs parted and his meaty glans strained forward, pushing towards the wet hole....

"That's my bellybutton, Orv," whispered Francine, and grabbed her son's cock to reorient it.

"S-s-s-sorry, Momma," said Orville Junior. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," whispered Francine. "Well, not with you anyway." And despite the arthritis in her wrist, she managed to guide her son's love-log into her avid beaver.

"Motherfucker!" screamed Francine, a trifle obviously. "That feels fantastic! Do it, Orville Junior! Pin me and mount me like a butterfly!"

>>1116101
I wonder how long you can write this stuff before going insane

>>1116129

Just until somebody faps to it.

>>1116101
This is fucking hilarious

I can't breathe

Orville Junior slid his bulging bratwurst into his Momma's muculent and speluncal aperture. "Oh g-g-g-god!" he wheezed, "you feel so g-g-g-g-goood, Momma!"

With every thrust of her son's prick, Francine's thighs shuddered like plum puddings, and crashed together like vast Symplegades of pink porcine flesh. She squirmed and strained beneath Orville Junior's thrusting as he began to build up a rhythm, wheezing and dripping sweat down upon his mother's body, like warm summer rain.

Orville Junior's passionate penile python squirmed deeper and deeper, as though it were blindly lunging its way through the Lincoln Tunnel, if the Lincoln Tunnel had padded and well-lubricated walls....seeking the mystery of that cervix which, fifteen years before, had slowly dilated in fitful contractions, agonizing (before the epidural anyway), a mother's pain of childbirth only to be rewarded with this sweet ironic pleasure....how much it had hurt to feel Orville Junior coming out of this same passage....and what rich ecstasies to feel Orville Junior now going back in! Again and again! With rhythmic urgency as though he was a jackhammer of meat, set loose upon an inflatable moon-bounce covered in love's own mucus....

"Don't worry about going splooge inside me, Orville Junior," Francine said breathlessly between her son's bullish thrusts, "Since I hit that menopause, we won't have a two-headed baby or nothing. Give it to me, son. Splash a warm bucketfull of your pecker-snot into my womb, like your shlong is a fire-hose and my ovaries are burning up!"

At this invitation, Orville Junior increased the vigor and intensity of his thrusts, as though he were doing push-ups atop a gigantic jelly donut....which quivered with increasing passion to match his own.

His mother's snatch gripped his wang like the firm handshake of a real-estate salesman, and would not let go...

dear lord

oh man

>>1116165

I think at "pecker-snot," I fucking lost it. Couldn't breathe there for a sec.

also, >His mother's snatch gripped his wang like the firm handshake of a real-estate salesman, and would not let go...
was a nice touch.

As Orville Junior hammered away inside her lovebox, Francine carefully hoisted her breasts from where they lay strewn across the floor to either side, and held them up to his panting mouth.

"Remember these," she cried. "You couldn't stop sucking on them fifteen years ago, Orville Junior.....do it again....do it for your momma."

Orville Junior began eagerly nibbling at his mother's leathery livid nipples, like a mutt going mad with a pair of squeaky toys. He suckled at those selfsame teats, a decade and a half after he had done so for nutrition. Now he did so for sheer lust.

His engorged filial member now began to strain towards its inevitable explosion, like the pistons on an out-of-control engine which is careening on a one-way path towards a gooey collision with fate.

Only in this case fate took the form of an explosion of hot and thick gonadal gruel into the deepest seamy furrows of the tight sweet crockpot of maternal origin.

Between her meaty thighs, Francine could feel Orville Junior's beanbag contracting, as the cremaster muscles pulled his nuts upward in preparation for blastoff, as though the Cape Canaveral of his Cowper's gland had initiated a countdown, and a million spermy astronauts in their gleaming white suits were about to launch their way beyond the far-flung Islets of Langerhans towards the Ultimate Black Hole: his own mother's all-devouring cunt, the secret matrix of her uterus which, like a Black Hole, seemed to be located deep inside at the point at which her own vast mass had collapsed in upon itself, and was now trying to suck the very jism into the vacuum of her deepest need...

A corresponding set of contractions now began to work their way through Francine's body, starting from the little red button of her clitoris, but sending shockwaves of shuddering orgastic spasms up and down the rippling billows of her cellulite, and the very walls of her cootch began to maul and tug at her son's meat-stick, in a mad fury of desire, like a baby panda with a box of bamboo candy....

"Oh lordy Orville Junior! I'm gonna climax!" Francine croaked. "You do it too! Pop your cookies for momma! Fill 'er up, just like your daddy used to do!"

"Oh Momma!" cried Orville Junior, then bit his lower lip as he prepared for the ultimate return to the womb

As her son pounded away in the first heady rush of orgasm, Francine Wildermuth could not help herself.

She began to breathe as she had been taught in Lamaze class all those years ago.

Short shallow breaths, the same way she had once forced Orville Junior out through the same entrance that he was now re-entering, a decade and a half later.

It was like she was giving birth in reverse.

Thank the lord Jesus, she thought, for those Kegel exercises, and for those extra stitches I got when they sewed up my episiotomy. Otherwise he'd probably feel like he was tossing a hot-dog into the Grand Canyon. But this way I know I can hug him tight, the way a momma should hug her oldest son, except I'm not doing it with my arms, I'm doing it with my vagina.

And then the sweet fruition of her depraved lust began to blossom all throughout her, as orgasm hit Francine Wildermuth's body like a 8.5-on-the-Richter-Scale earthquake hitting a canned ham. Her son's goo flooded her yearning cavity like a tsunami....

A tsunami for mommy.

A tsunami of sticky seed, seasoned with sheer lust.

my god

this story

Jim Bob had a real boner when he handed a cup of tea (which he had prepared) to his mother. His mother had laid a spread of sandwiches for the rest of the guests, cucumber, some tuna, too. Jim Bob ate most of the cucumber, devouring them in threes, moaning audibly when his mother was in earshot. The private scoring between Jim Bob and his mother was bringing him no end of excitement. Jim Bob had picked up her signals. She was singling him out. The way she brushed his thigh, masking her intention, and gave him those lustful looks. The bulge in his crotch rose, straining against the fabric of his jeans. He could smell her scent as she wafted around the room, the good hostess, servicing her clientele with willing hands, and smile, lips, and her wanting, whorish, bulging, womanly breasts and thighs, and provocative, jiggling buttocks.

>>1116196

Granny had attended a women's institute talk about otters and their preservation in the community. Uncle Steve wanted to buy a field behind his house so he could cultivate cheese, or bees maybe. Jim Bob only heard snatches of his family's polite conversation while he fucked his mother's arse in the kitchen. The hem of her dress rested on her bare skin above the curve in the small of her back, Jim Bob's firm grip on her waist raising the blushing plumpness of her sexy backside to his eager, thrusting engorged penis. His cock was fucking hard, plunging in and out, every now and then the crockery rattled in the cupboards; Jim Bob's heart would race with the thought of getting caught here, his little covert operation. His mother's dress, folding where her hourglass figure met the table's edge, was patterned with green and yellow flowers.

>>1116198

The labour party eventually won the election, although the controversy over new legislation meant they were unpopular with more die hard supporters. Jim Bob didn't see his mother for a long time, even though he still masturbated to the memory of her upturned buttocks, and the scent of rohipnol in the air. There wasn't really much to say since the trial, nor was there much Jim Bob could say during it. Nonetheless the law, when it changed, came down hard on convicted rapists.

god-damn, best thread on /lit/

>>1116199
>scent of rohipnol in the air
Almost choked on my coffee.

is it normal to have a boner right now?

>>1116237
absolutely

>>1116190
Someone needs to give this guy some kind of award.

>>1116246

or the number of a psychiatrist

>>1116248
or the number of your mother >:D

he does terrible thigns to them

>>this thread

ah, sex mit mutti

>>1116057

>tragic combine-harvester accident

Fuck, got me straight away.

>>1116089

>mulatto

I had a premonition that you would use that word and you fucking did

>>1116190
>>1116190
>>1116190

Are you the person who JUST posted this on /r9k/?

This is the greatest piece of writing that has ever been posted on /lit/. MOAR