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Raped By My Son's Football Team

My son was up to something, I just knew it! I was a good Christian woman and wasn’t going to let my wicked son be led astray.

What I found when I followed him one night shocked me to my core. Drugs, drinking, gambling and all manner of evilness! I vowed to put a stop to this. But my son, my precious son, had already fallen.

They raped me in every hole, dominated me until I broke. Oh Lord!


I don't know what I was thinking -- maybe I wasn't thinking at all. My son was captain of his college football team and the star quarterback and every week after the big game, him and his tall, hunky teammates went out for beer and whatever else it was that hot hunky teammates did after a game.

As his mother, I was very curious to see what he got up to during those times. As it turns out, curiosity really can kill the cat. Or -- in my case -- rape the pussy.

It was late Friday night. The team was preparing for the next big game and I decided this was the night. Where was Tim going? Every time I asked him, he just gave me the cold shoulder. My spidey senses tingled. He was a good lad, but he was only 19 and I had a feeling that he was getting into things he shouldn't.

Such as drinking or - God forbid - drugs. As his mother, I still felt very much responsible for his well-being. Sure, he was an adult, but he was also still living at home.

I followed him in the car discreetly. My mind was alive with the possibilities of what he and his football buddies were doing in the middle of the night. Where did they go? Was my son...doing drugs? Drinking? Banging women? I had to know.

Twenty minutes later, we turned into a seedy section of town. It was the industrial area. What the hell was Tim doing here? A shiver raced up my spine as we pulled into what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse.

What the hell?

Then I saw a few other cars and motorbikes parked there.

So this was it! A chill swept through me as I was about to find out where my son went every night. I brought my binoculars up to my eyes and watched from afar as my son slipped up to the door, knocked three times, then went in. I only got a slight glimpse, but what I saw boiled my blood: There was alcohol!

Dammit! I pounded my fist on the dash. I just knew it! My son wasn't old enough to drink. He was just 19! I was going to break up this little party and bring him home by the ears. This was bull shit.

Mad as hell, I wasn't going to take this anymore. I jumped out of my car, slammed the door and stormed up to the warehouse entrance. Taking a deep breath and completely unmindful of my safety, I pounded on the door three times just like I saw Tim do a minute before.

"Come on in!" A deep, male, husky voice called through the steel doors.

With much trepidation, I pushed open the door and walked into my son's nightly hideout.

I stood there in shock for several minutes as I surveyed the situation. The longer I stared, the angrier I got. They had this thing fully loaded. Pool tables, foosball, air hockey, a fully stocked bar. Everything. I saw something off in the corner that looked suspiciously like blow.

I saw my son sitting at the bar knocking back a brewski while talking to one of his buds.

That was it!

I marched over to my son, grabbed him by the collar and drug him out the door. Or, at least that's what I attempted to do.

"Mom?! What the fuck are you doing here?" He barked at me and the entire place went dead silent.

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