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When mom and dad were first married he was assigned to our embassy in Argentina as a military aid. They both could read and write and speak Spanish fluently. So I grew up speaking English and Spanish fluently; reading and writing both just as fluently. Dad was assigned there for three years, but was only there two, because he volunteered to go to Afghanistan, he felt that was the quickest way to get promoted. He was killed during the last days of his second tour.

When I was seven I knew that I could hear other people’s thoughts. I really didn’t know what to do with this information; but it was neat being able to know what people were thinking about. By the time I was twelve I knew that I could influence the way people felt or thought about things. I was entering the eighth grade in a new school in a new city.

Mom had been transferred to a new city because she had received a promotion and a raise. She had been working since she was 15. She told everyone she was 25, and looked it, she was an absolute stunner. She was also a pretty smart cookie. She taught herself short hand and typing, she was going to become a secretary. Her boss saw her as very smart and when he found out that dad was his son’s commanding officer and that he had saved his son’s life, he helped her move quickly up the corporate ladder.

Dad was killed saving most of his company from annihilation by the enemy or so it said on the paper that came with the posthumous MoH (Medal of Honor). Mom always put that on her applications. Widow, husband died a Medal of Honor recipient. Anyway, when I entered my eighth grade classroom, the teacher stopped me and told me to report to the school office.

When I got there the secretary told me Mrs. Lopez wanted to see me. It seems there is some kind of mix up in your class assignment. A few moments later Mrs. Lopez spoke to the secretary and asked for me to be sent in. When I entered her office Mrs. Lopez looked at me strangely and asked if I was Tom Peterson? When I told her yes, she asked my age. I said I was twelve. She excused herself and said she would be right back. When she returned she had Mrs. Abbott (the principal) with her. It seems, said Mrs. Abbott that Mrs. Lopez feels your test scores is incorrect and we need to test you again.

I, of course, knew what they were thinking. They were sure that I had in some way cheated or whoever graded the test made a silly error. Mrs. Lopez told me to follow her down the hall to an empty classroom. She handed me a new test and said you have one hour and a half to finish the test. About twenty minutes later I was at her desk. She was asking if there was anything I didn’t understand. I said no, I’m finished. I knew she thought that I had only answered part of the test.

She asked for my blue book and the answer page. She was stunned to see that I had marked all one hundred and seventy five answers off on the test. She placed my test answer page on her desk and covered it with the Key. Every one of my answers was correct. She really couldn’t believe what was happening. I don’t suppose you can type too, or can you? She asked. Yes, I answered, I taught myself to type some years ago. I didn’t feel my handwriting was very legible so I learned to type.

I knew she thought that I was just bragging. She was going to try to show me up as a braggart. She told me to follow her to the computer room so that I could finish the second half of my test. I knew that she was lying; there was no second part to my test. She just wanted to see what I would do when I was faced with trying to answer a question in a teacher’s evaluation test.

As we walked into the computer room I saw that the school was using Apple Computers. I had never used an Apple before. Pick any one you want, they are all the same. There was a smirk on Mrs. Lopez’s face; she had guessed correctly that I had never used an Apple before. I looked at the keyboard turned on the power and hit F1. The help menu popped up, I turn the scroll wheel and the help menu quickly scrolled down across the screen.

Five seconds later, I asked, when should I start the test? With a shaking hand she gave me the question booklet. The first question asked for a typed answer in five hundred words or less. My fingers started to fly across the keyboard at 128 words per minute. Mrs. Lopez sat there with her mouth open.

She didn’t know that I had an eidetic memory. Everything I saw, read, or heard, I remembered forever and could recall at my leisure. I had read and understood all twenty five thousand seven hundred and eighty six books in the local library. Of course that also included the twelve thousand six hundred books in the reference section.

In less than four minutes I had completed the first question, and I was several sentences into the second question. Suddenly Mrs. Lopez called time. I stopped the test so that you could print out your answer to the first question. She asked me to do that now please. Printer number one bahis firmaları suddenly came to life and in less than a minute my answer was typed out.

Mrs. Lopez told me to continue with my test while she and Mrs. Abbot discussed my answer. Twenty minutes later she returned and asked what question I was up to? Anyway, that’s how it was decided I was way beyond High School. I was accepted into Harvard University at twelve years old. Two years later I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BA degree in Economics. I was fourteen. I wanted to be sure that I could earn enough to support my mother and myself without her working if she wished.

Two years later I had earned a Masters and a Doctorate in Economics. The Wharton school of business (in Philadelphia) offered me full scholarship. I zipped through their school in nine months. I had already published two books on economics both of which had sold two million copies so far.

Girls and women were throwing themselves at me. I hired a team of body guards to keep them away. I had written several articles for magazines such as Smart Money, Economics Today, Kiplinger’s and one or two more. I was hired by Citi Bank as a consultant at a salary of $325,000.00. Warren Buffet hired me to consult with his company for $500.000.00 a year.

My articles and books had already earned me several million dollars. I formed an investment company. The Wall Street Journal ran a two page story about the new genius investor, who was earning millions of dollars for his clients. Inside of a year I was investing almost one billion dollars. I was seventeen years old. I bought a Penthouse condo overlooking Central park.

I asked mom to quit her job to stay home and run my house. Now I was eighteen years old. I don’t think I mentioned it but mom was drop dead gorgeous. She had dark red wavy hair and emerald green eyes. I had once asked her how she and dad met. I got the whole story of how they met and everything that transpired until I was born.

She was twelve when dad married her but looked about twenty five. Hugh Hefner would have paid any amount if he could have gotten her to pose for a centerfold. When she and dad arrived in Argentina to take his post at the embassy they were assigned a two bedroom house very near the embassy.

The American Embassy had a pool on its grounds; dad got her a pass so that she could use it. Now at this time mom was 12 years old (but looked and acted older) she thought nothing of showing up in a tiny yellow bikini.

When dad had first seen her he was so smitten he couldn’t get her out of his mind. When he found out her age he tried to stay away. It almost drove him crazy. He went to her parents and begged them to let him marry her. In West Virginia (that’s where dad was stationed at the time) the law said a girl could marry at twelve years of age but only with her parent’s written consent. Dad begged and was so persistent that they finally gave in.

Argentina has nude beaches and is the plastic surgery capital of the world. Most of the women there are beautiful and had “D” cup boobs. Mom’s beauty was all God given. Almost every military man at the embassy masturbated over her as their fantasy fuck. Dad’s boss (the officer above him in rank) called him into his office to tell him that the wives put up such a stink about her appearance she was not allowed to wear bikinis at the embassy pool.

So on the way home Dan (my dad) stopped at a department store and bought her a one piece black bathing suit. He checked that the size was correct and bought it. “Sorry honey, but you can’t wear bikinis at the embassy pool.” So the next day she put on the one piece.

The only parts that were not see thru were the cups covering her boobs and a tiny triangle covering her pussy. Because it was French cut it fit high on her hips leaving both buttocks completely bare. “When she saw how it fit she thought I can’t believe Dan wants me to wear this. She called the embassy and spoke to her husband.

“Dan I can’t wear this suit, it’s…….”

“What do you mean you can’t wear this suit? It’s a one piece. I picked it out especially for you. Wear it. Gotta go.” When she got to the embassy she went into the ladies dressing room and put on the suit. She heard someone say, oh my God, she turned around and saw two women walking towards her.

“You’re Mrs. Peterson aren’t you? Captain Peterson’s wife.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Doris and my friend here is Peggy. Our husband’s are with the Marine security detachment.”

“How do you do? I’m Maggie”

“Listen hon, you really can’t wear that suit here at the embassy pool. The ambassador’s wife is here today and she will go ape if she sees you dressed in that.”

“I tried to tell my husband that but he insisted that I wear it”

Maggie’s eyes immediately started to tear up.

“Well no harm no foul, what do you say to the three of us going to the beach?”

Somehow, later, kaçak iddaa they got on the subject of birthdays and mom told them that today was her birthday.

Peggy quickly piped up and asked “How old are you today”?

“I’m 13 years old today” mom said in her naivety.

Both Peggy and Doris looked at her, their mouths agape.

“You’re kidding right?”

Mom was suddenly frightened that something was wrong.

“God, I thought you were at least my age around 25 or so.”

“It’s because of these, right?” Two tears started to roll down her cheeks. She stood there cupping her breasts. Doris quickly said……

“You can be our younger sister.” Doris was only four years older than mom.

Mom made two good friends that day. When dad came home that day, mom was still wearing that bathing suit. Except she had on wrap around skirt.

“Let me show you what you wanted me to wear to the embassy pool”

She took off the skirt and spun around for dad.

“Holy shit.”

I was born nine months later.

When I was thirteen I found that I could move things with my mind. As I practiced, this gift got stronger and stronger. Eventually I could lift a 42 ft. tractor trailer, fully loaded. That’s about fifteen to eighteen tons or so. As I got older my ability got stronger still.

When I was fourteen or fifteen years old I began thinking about girls. The problem now was every girl around my age bored me. I was almost 18 when I decided that mom was the one for me. Older women were not interested in me romantically or they were only interested in my money.

The only older woman, who loved me unconditionally, was my mother. I decided to change her into my girlfriend. I raced thru her mind and found her love for me, but it was a mother’s love for her son. It was simple for me to change that. My mother did date, although it was infrequently and after several gentle nudges even that stopped. When I mentioned that she stopped dating she told me that no man was as interesting to talk to as I was.

When we watched TV, whenever she didn’t understand something I was always able to explain either the meaning of the word or the history of the time that led up to what was going on. She was always amazed at my fund of knowledge. I was now nineteen. Every night before bedtime I gave mom a kiss goodnight on her cheek. I began to slowly change my target. I started kissing her on her lips. After a few nudges mentally and a few weeks time, mom accepted my kisses on her lips as natural and that I was just showing her I was growing up.

I began very slowly to raise her libido. I scanned her mind and found that Maggie (my mom’s name was Margaret) was starting to have sexual fantasies. It was time to ramp up her emotions again. Every time she dreamed about having sex with some guy. He was always shadowy and unclear, yet just when she was about to have her orgasm, his face became clear and he morphed into me.

I started to come up behind her and put my arms around her cupping her breasts and kissed her neck or ear. When she tried to complain I would kiss her deeply and hold her till she put her arms around my neck and returned my ardor. This went on for weeks. I was still very slowly raising her libido. I began to come on to her whenever I caught her sitting on the sofa watching TV. I would take her into my arms and we would neck until she became limp in my arms.

Maggie began masturbating every night. It was about this time that Maggie decided to have a talk with me.

“Tommy this has to stop. Mother’s don’t do these things with their sons. It…It…is not right. Y…Y…You can’t keep k…k…kissing me the way you have been.” “But Maggie, I thought you liked our necking sessions.”

“I do honey, but mothers and sons don’t do these things. It’s just not right.”

“Mom how could it be not right? I know you like it and I like it so how could it be not right? Who is it hurting?”

“I don’t know baby. Do you really think it’s all OK?”

“Sure we aren’t hurting anyone, and we both enjoy ourselves. It has to be okay.”

“Maybe you’re right, We sure aren’t hurting anyone. Why don’t you wash up while I put dinner on the table?”

I loved this feeling of absolute power. I could do anything I wanted to this woman and she would always love it. She got up, the worried look she had on her face was gone and she was smiling again. After dinner I was sitting on the sofa watching TV. When Maggie entered the room I grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto my lap. There was no reticence, no hesitation, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.

With a little nudge to her mind mom had accepted what we were doing completely. Even when I (accidently) brushed my hand across her breast she didn’t react. I could feel her love for me changing, it was growing deeper. She began treating me as her lover not as kaçak bahis her son.

By the time I was twenty I could strip mom completely nude while I played with and sucked on her nipples. I loved to suck on her tits; I guess that was my fetish. My constant suckling on her breasts caused mom to lactate. She was one of those women who could have massive orgasms just from having her breasts suckled. Her milk was delicious. To help me, I raised Maggie’s libido to such a degree she was practically begging me to fuck her all the time.

To help her along I increased the sensitivity of her nipples and her clit so that she was always horny and ready to fuck. I trained her to beg for my cock. She had to say, Please Master, my pussy is so empty, and I need your cock. I used her ass every night. It got so that I could fuck her in the ass almost as easily as her pussy. I regret some of the things I did to her. I was a stupid kid. It was the feeling of power that I was hooked on. I was now almost twenty one years old. I was a multi millionaire rapidly approaching billionaire status.

I had trained my mom to be my sex slave. I even called her my fuck toy. She always blushed when I called her that, but she smiled and giggled. I decided that I wanted to mark her as mine. I wanted to take her to a tattoo parlor. Mom balked at that. I took her nipples in both oh my hands and started to squeeze and roll her nipples between my fingers. I knew I could drive her into a sexual frenzy by doing this.

Mom’s eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Her eyelids began to flutter. She almost collapsed. As soon as she got control of herself; she gasped, “Whatever you want baby, I’ll do anything to make you happy.” I had the tattoo artist there; tattoo a red heart at the top of her left buttock with the letters MP loves TP, in black. When she was dressed no one could see the tattoo, but she would know for as long as she lived that she was my property.

The man also did piercing so I had both of her nipples pierced with those miniature bar bells in gold. The piercings also had another effect, her nipples remained permanently erect. After that I was able to make her address me as Master at all times in private. To her it was like a game. We fucked like rabbits every chance we got. She cooked and cleaned my house and serviced me whenever I wanted.

She slept in my bed in the master bedroom. I had her undergo electrolysis and had all her body hair permanently removed. Last night I fucked her to so many orgasms she passed out. She was my property and I treated her as such. This gradually became her norm. Her orgasms were massive and so intense that after six or seven she would pass out and sleep like a babe till morning, cuddled in my arms.

I taught her to suck my cock all the way into her throat. She really didn’t like the taste of semen but again with a little adjustment from me, she found she loved it. I must have gone a bit too far because she began to beg to suck on my cock, every day. Every morning as soon as she awoke she would crawl between my legs and give me one of her fabulous blow jobs. I really didn’t mind.

After a while I began to feel that I wanted more. I realized that none of my business associates or acquaintances had ever met my mother so I arranged to take her on a month’s vacation in Asia. I had many holdings there. So ostensibly I was just going to see what was going on there. I began taking mom out on dates to all of the ‘in’ places. I began introducing her as my fiancé.

Two weeks later I married her in Singapore. I bought her a 2½ karat diamond engagement ring. When we were married I gave her the matching wedding band. We moved into the bridal suite at the Singapore Hyatt. Two weeks after that we went back to New York. I took her out to all the best restaurants and clubs I introduced her to my friends and business acquaintances. As far as anyone knew mom was now my wife.

Maggie was now 34 years old. She was still drop dead gorgeous. I was 21. To make everything look more ‘kosher’, I grew a beard along with my mustache. She told me I looked very dashing; 10 months after we were married, Maggie gave birth to my daughter. When I saw her in pain from the labor of childbirth I suddenly realized that she wasn’t a toy. What the hell was I doing? She was a living breathing person.

This was my mother and I truly loved her. I vowed I would make it up to her. It was then that I changed. I manipulated Maggie’s memory. She could not remember anything of her past. This was attributed to a fabricated auto accident in Arkansas leaving her with a hairline scar and no memory of her past. She knew she worked for one of the fortune five hundred companies but could not remember the name or what she did there.

She remembered that two years earlier a friend Andrea invited her for dinner. Unbeknownst to her, her friend’s husband also had invited a young man from work to dinner also. Somehow during dinner the conversation got around to the breakup of the Soviet Union. Andrea’s husband Paul claimed that the downfall of the Soviet Union was caused by Poland becoming independent. The young man Tom Peterson (that was me) said that’s not really correct.

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