I woke up thinking it was all a weird dream.

It was the sunlight that woke me up. The blinds had been left open and the early morning sun threatened to burn right through my eyelids. I tossed a forearm over my eyes to shield them from the sun and they luxuritated in the feel of it warming my body. I’d never been much of a sun worshipper. It was more often the enemy when you were working on a job site and sweating like a pig, but relaxing in my bed with the warmth easing my muscles felt nice. I was tempted to just stay there, but if the sun was up that meant that I’d be late for morning practice if I didn’t stir my ass.

I was dead tired and I blamed it on the freaky dream I’d had the night before. Aliens invading, but not invading. Turning the world into a perverted dream. Clearly I needed to get laid. That was easier said than done. Oh, there were no shortage of girls who’d be happy to suck the football hero’s dick. Likely while taking a selfie. But my mom had spoiled me, and taught me a few things about myself.

The most important things were that I liked to be in control and I wasn’t a one and done type of guy.

The first few times with mom she had initiated the action. Giving me a blow job under the kitchen table, coming into my bedroom and riding me cowgirl style, waking me in the morning with a blow job. I was young, it was sex, it was good, but after the second time I began to feel a tension that simply unloading into my mom’s mouth or cunt didn’t ease.

The big revelation came about when I walked into the living room while my mom was vacuuming. Now my mom was only thirty nine, and looked thirty, she took care of herself and had a naturally slim body. Slightly flaring hips, round firm ass, small breasts. I’d seen her mistaken for a teen-age boy on occasion while she was wearing a long winter coat that hid her spectacular ass. No one could see that ass and think she was anything but prime fuck-meat, of the female variety.

It was that ass that proved to be the trigger. She was wearing an old pair of jeans that had been washed so often they were almost white and as soft as silk. They clung to my mom as if they’d been sprayed on. When she bent over you could see her camel toe, and the cleft of her ass begged to be invaded. I was already semi-erect when I walked in on her, and a second later my nine inch cock was like a bar of iron. The only thing standing between me and her tight cunt was those pants, and suddenly I hated them with a burning passion. The couple of minutes it would take my mom to skin out of them seemed an inconceivable time to wait for relief.

The next thing I knew I’d grabbed my tiny mother by her arm and dragged her over to my dad’s old lazy boy recliner. I sat down and dragged her over my lap.

Of course she protested. Told me she’d be happy to take care of me if I just gave her a chance, but I was in no mood. I was furious that something had kept me from indulging as soon as the inclination struck.

I spanked my mom until she was sobbing over my lap, and then I laid down the ground rules. She was never to wear pants in the house again. If there was a chance someone might come over she could wear a skirt, with no panties, but otherwise I expected her to be nude at all times. And then I pushed her down between my legs and **** her to blow me. I knew she’d do it willingly, but I didn't give her the option. I throat fucked her as she gagged and slobbered drool and pre-cum all over her chin and my balls, and then when I came I pulled out and splattered her face with my seed, marking her as my fuck-toy. And when it was over all I felt was satisfaction. Mom obeyed the house rules, to the letter. I don’t think I ever pushed her over the top of the table of the arm of the couch and didn’t find her wet and ready for me.

But my control over my mom began and ended in sex. The first time I tried to assert myself in any other regard I received a blistering lecture that made me tuck my cock between my legs and bow my head to my mom while shuffling my feet like an overgrown schoolboy.

“Men,” my mom told me at the end of that lecture “Need to be in charge during sex, but any other time is just asking for disaster.”

It was hard to argue with her when I had my dad as an example. Looking back I remembered signs that indicated my mom had been as sexually subservient to my dad as she now was to me. But I never remembered him making a decision outside of the bedroom that she didn’t sign off on. As a result he’d had lots of money, a successful company and tons of under the table sex with a succession of busty blonde receptionists, until he pissed mom off and ended up working for her when she took control of the company in the divorce.

Now dad lives in a one bedroom apartment and if he is lucky will score a saturday-night-at-closing time fuck every few weeks or so.

No, letting my mom run my life outside of sex didn’t have any downsides as far as I was concerned. The very thought of doing my own taxes, or really any interaction with pencil neck geeks, gave me shudders. Mom was welcome to it.

Thinking about my mom got me hard, as usual. I hadn’t had sex since I’d left home. Unless you counted the two or three times a day I jerked off. A perk of having a private room. There were lots of girls who’d have been happy to take care of my not so little problem, but like I said I was an all in sort of guy. I wanted a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad. A girl who could take care of all of life’s stumbling blocks for me, while being a convenient cum-socket anytime I needed to drain my balls, and enjoy the fuck out of doing it. It was not an easy combination to find, and I didn’t even know where to start.

Brainy Betty was certainly happy to order me around, and had done wonders for my academic progress. I respected the hell out of her and had no issues with her treating me like a pet dog. It was sort of cute the way she’d try to shove me in this direction or that while shopping for school supplies. It was sort of a welcome break from the way everyone else walked around on eggshells around me.

Except for Betty’s housemates. She’d clearly influenced them because they one and all tended to treat me as a barely house-trained dog of the big and goofy variety. I didn’t mind. It was sort of comforting visiting her house and getting away from all the stares I got everywhere else. I was used to being underestimated, and in the case of Betty’s roommates I really did rank around the goofy-dog level intellectually. The fact I was a pit-bull playing nice was my little secret.

Maybe if it hadn’t been for the frumpy baggy clothing Betty favored, and her general disheveled look, I might have been able to see her as fuckable as well as competent. But, while I favored petite girls, thanks mom, I still wanted sex appeal and at least some signs of feminitiy. For heaven’s sakes, Betty’s single male housemate, Sam, short for Samson, who was six feet tall, flamboyantly gay, and a kick-ass martial artist for that reason, looked more feminine than Betty ninenine percent of the time.

As I stood in the middle of my room, scratching my balls I found I could not get the weird alien invasion dream out of my mind. It was not the sort of dream I tended to have for one thing. I might have dreams about some of the hot chicks on one of the Star Trek shows, but dreaming about Aliens claiming they had genetically altered the human race, for our own good? Why would I dream about that. I’d dreamed I was watching it on TV, but I could not remember watching any movie or TV show with a plot anywhere near what had happened. But at the same time I was positive. It was all very confusing.

I was trying to figure out what had inspired my dream when I walked out into the hallway on my way to the bathroom to take a piss. I heard some noises coming from the living room and took a peek. What I saw drove all the spider-webs out of my head and I suddenly realized that maybe it hadn’t been a dream.

[Hopefully this is enough to let readers get a feel for the story. Now to see if anyone wants to see more]