Mom

As you walk out of the bedroom, feeling more frustrated than you can remember being in a long time you hear the door of the washing door clam shut down stairs. Mom was doing laundry. She was a really good, nice, moral person with one main issue. Your mom is a tremendous gossip. She has a nearly obsessive compulsion for it. She is a fountain of information when it comes to who is sneaking off to fuck who in this neighborhood. You hold up the chain and look at the red flower hanging from it, if anybody in this neighborhood knows how to work the people of this neighborhood into a angry, lustful fervor it's probably her. Working out a plan you put it in your pocket and fight the surge of shame you feel at manipulating your mom as deeply as you're about to do. Putting on a facade of fake sadness, you walk downstairs, ready to take full advantage of every aspect of her loving, tender, motherly instincts.

With feigned depression on your face and feelings of guilt being held down by fear of eternal hellfire and **** in my heart, I slowly and deliberately walked down the stairs to where she sat in the living room folding towels. With an overdone, obvious air of melancholy I gave a deep breath and spoke, "hey mom." Your mother's name is Tanya and she's a 42 year old homemaker. Shoulder length auburn hair, blue yes, and thick (but not quite fat) frame were the things you had noticed before. With the thoughts of succubus pussy and the need to fuck running through your head you can't help but see her as being quite an attractive MILF as well. You hadn't really paid attention before but she did seem to have sizable boobs and a firm butt but above all that, you couldn't help but notice her lips. Big, thing, soft-looking lips and you couldn't help but wonder for a moment if (and how often) your father got to feel those lips on his hot shaft.

With the obvious melancholy she quickly looks up and asks you what's wrong. Knowing for the story you plan to tell and knowing how you've behaved in the past, you decide it will be more credible if you pretend you're working up to telling her, 'the truth' so you assure her there's nothing wrong and sit down in a chair near where she's working.

You sit, silently brooding for several minutes. She thinks that you're working up the courage to tell her the truth, the real truth though is you are having a hard time not going straight into the lie to get it over with. Ironically the guilt over what you plan to do is actually providing a convincing look of hesitation and consternation on your face until you finally speak after about five minutes, "it was a girl."

You tell your mother a short story about a girl at school that you liked and you thought liked you back. The two of you supposedly started working together as part of a larger group on a project which slowly grew to flirting back and forth, and well afterwards you kept seeing one another. Then you tell your mother that then came the day you asked her out officially and she responded by introducing you to her boyfriend. While her and all her friends laughed at you, even as her boyfriend punched you hard in the ribs, knocking the necklace out of your pocket.

The necklace that you claim was going to be a gift for her after the first official date. Her response was to simply roll her eyes, call you a loser with disgusting tastes, and even is she had been interested, she would have broken up with you should you have offered her this ugly piece of shit you finally say, holding up the corrupted necklace in front of your mom's face.

You actually feel your stomach churning with guilt as she hits all the anticipated motherly, stereotypical moves. Giving a warm, mom-like hug, assuring you you're great, and of course telling you that the necklace isn't so bad and any girl would be lucky to wear something like that. Which is when you say, "Would you like it?"

You know it isn't really her style and not what she would normally wear but at the same time, just to fill you with some sense of reassurance she agrees. You feel terrible about it, taking advantage of your mom like this, until she snaps the chain into place around her neck and suddenly all doubt or guilt vanishes.

You realize something about the world at that very moment and are proud that you have helped your mom realize the same thing. People say that there's a thin line between justice and vengeance, truth is there is no line. They're the same thing. Justice is just a term self-righteous assholes use to claim their attempts at the same end result are some how better. By the time you and your mother are done, everyone else will agree and the notion of seducing and stealing someone's spouse just to toss him aside once you've sufficiently ruined their relationship just to get back at them for minor offenses will be see as the pinnacle of justice.