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Hi, I’m Tommy Granthem, and trust me when I say it, I am a very bad man, and you do NOT want to get to know me. It’s not that I’m the kind of person who goes out of his way to be a bad guy, it’s just something that comes far too naturally to me. Growing up, even my mother Kathy, used to say, “There’s the devil in you Tommy”. I mean shit, my own mother thought I was a lost cause. She got knocked up with me at fourteen, and somehow managed to actually finish high school, even though she had a squalling brat like me to take care of.

I think this story could really be started when I was fifteen, I mean, yeah, I was a little bad ass growing up. You know, the usual, property damage, petite theft, fighting, and the like, nothing serious. Right up until that day, a week after my fifteenth birthday. I was in my bedroom, in the shitty little trailer my mom rented, she thought I didn’t know, but she paid the bills by stripping down at ‘The Landing Strip’. Anywho ... As I say, I was in my room, watching porn on the laptop I had boosted on a smash and grab, over on the other side of town, when in walks my mom, all five foot one, one hundred twelve pounds of her, and there I am, dick in my hand, spankin it like ... well ... like the horny fucking teenager I was.

Now, I guess I should say, my mom was ... Well, at twenty eight, she was smoking fucking hot, tiny, tight, and had a body, that, honestly, I had never made a secret of leering at. And so, it shouldn’t shock anyone to know, as she walked into my room, I simply looked up at her, gave her a wicked little smile, and just kept stroking my cock. “Jesus Christ Tommy!” my mom snarled at me, “Can’t you even stop jerking off for two seconds, when I walk into a room?”

All I could do, in all honesty, was leer at her some more, as I watched her standing there, hip cocked out, and arms crossed, wearing a skin tight tube top, which barely covered her tiny B Cup tits, and those drop dead sexy boy shorts with half her ass hanging out. “Keep wearing shit like that in the house mom,” I said as my hand sped up on my cock, I’m not bragging, but even at fifteen, I was already packing seven and a half inches, so she couldn’t help but notice that, “And I might just start jerking off at the dinner table too!”

I’m really not sure what possessed my mother to try, but she stamped her foot angrily, and actually tried to grab my wrist, and make me stop jerking off. Now, as I’ve said, my mom is five one, and hardly weighed more than your average sixth grader. I on the other hand, was already five nine (sadly over the next couple years I would only add three inches to that) and had spent most of my time, when I wasn’t out practicing to become the number one hell raiser in six counties, lifting weights, and sparring with a couple of older buddies of mine. I already outweighed my mom by almost one hundred pounds. She had no hope of stopping me. But she tried, and the only thing she got out of it was having her painted on top, roll down under her tits, while flailing at me like a lunatic.

It was at that point, just as her left nipple smacked me in the face, that I decided that I was fucking done jerking off. I mean, the idea just sort of hit me, there was, not just a chick, but a fucking smoking HOT chick, who got naked for money (besides blowing half the guys she took to the V.I.P. room) now half naked in my fucking room. C’mon, you trying to tell me the thought wouldn’t cross your minds at the very least? I just let go of my dick, and grabbed my mom around the back of her neck, I used my leg to cause her to lose her balance, and simply rolled. The end result of course, was now mom was lying on her back, on my bed, with me pinning her beneath me.

“Maybe you’re right mom,” I said sarcastically, as I ground my cock against her panty covered cunt, “Maybe what I need, instead of jerking off, is some new pussy.” I could tell the idea most certainly did NOT thrill my mother, but ya know, at that point, I really didn’t care. I had never made it a secret I was fucking half of the little trailer trash sluts in the mobile park, I mean shit, the last summer my mom had walked in on me, buried balls deep inside the ass of the eleven year old black girl who lived in the next cul-de-sac. So the fact that I was looking for “new” pussy shouldn’t have been an eye opener for her. But I think it was that evil fucking grin I get when I see something I want, but someone else has, that actually scared her.

OK ... Before I go any further, and since that grin is going to be a large part of this story, I feel I should describe it just a bit. Imagine a smile, that just screams “I am going to fucking hurt you!” You know the kind, where the corners of the eyebrows dip down, and the edges of your lips just curl back, showing only the very bottom of your top row of teeth? It’s that kind of grin, except, as I’ve been told, there is absolutely no humor in my eyes when it happens. One chick I used to fuck, actually described them as ‘lifeless’, when I grin like that. I’ve only ever met two people who weren’t at least slightly unnerved by that grin, but that’s getting ahead of myself. Back to the first time I hatefucked my mom.

I didn’t give her time to struggle, I don’t necessarily MIND when a chick fights it, sometimes it even gets me off when I know she REALLY doesn’t want some dick, but I’m giving it to her anyway, but this time, I wanted to see resignation, I wanted to see mom’s eyes just fucking empty. I decided that she needed to know who the fuck was gonna be the boss moving forward, and so, I fixed her with that grin again, and clamped my left hand over her mouth, while taking the expedient method of removal, by simply tearing her panties to shreds with my right. I spared her a glance, and realized she needed to be taught the cardinal rule. “When we’re done here mom,” I said to her in a gravelly whisper, “You’re shaving that fucking hair off your cunt. Got it?” and to emphasize the point, I jammed the first three inches of my cock into her surprisingly tight little snatch.

Oh man ... Lemme tell you, the look in her eyes was priceless! Again, I’m not trying to brag, but I like to think I’ve popped more than my fair share of cherries in my life, but I have NEVER seen the look of shock, and pain, that I saw in my mother’s eyes, when my cock started slamming into her. I think there was even some self loathing in there too, because it only took about five strokes, before she started juicing up good too. Her little cunt went from jerking off into a gym sock, to having my cock surrounded by velvet that was smothered in the finest oils (Yes they are both sensations I have experienced too) I actually took my time for a few minutes there, my hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Look, I mean, my mom had done her best raising me, I guess, but there was never what you would call a loving atmosphere in our home. So I guess you can say, I didn’t really feel like I was fucking my mom (of course that is EXACTLY what I was doing, but it sure didn’t FEEL like it) it felt kinda like I was fucking some random cunt I just happened to know in passing. That being said, I made sure she couldn’t say shit, cus I really didn’t want her voice fucking it up for me.

So there I was, I had my cock balls deep in my mom’s petite little body, and her tight little cunt was doing its fucking best to either strangle it, or force it out. I honestly didn’t care which, I was gonna keep fucking til I got my fucking nut, but either way it felt amazing! That wet little hole just kept clamping down on the out stroke, trying to keep me from getting back in, and it kept rippling in resistance as I pushed back in, trying to drive me out. I don’t think mom knew it, but the harder she fought me, the better it fucking felt! I mean yeah, at that point in my life, I had fucked a few chicks who weren’t one hundred percent on board, but sort of accepted it, and maybe even enjoyed it towards the end, but none of them kept up the fight like mom. I felt the walls of her cunt slither around my knob, like suddenly her fucking pussy was trying to give me a fucking blow job!

The whole feeling combined to make an experience I didn’t recreate again until I was MUCH older, but again, getting ahead of myself. I just couldn’t help myself anymore, I needed mom to know who was inside of her, “You like Little Tommy inside of you mommy?” I asked her, that fucking grin still plastered across my face, as I started REALLY banging into her. “Hmmm? This getting you off mommy?” and much to my joy, aside from the occasional grunt of discomfort, she was absolutely silent, but, the bitch had the nerve to shake her head at me.

I pulled my hand off her mouth, and just before she got the chance to scream, I clamped it around her throat, and listened happily, as her gasping began to merge with the sound of my hips slapping into hers. That velvety tight cunt of hers was still squeezing my cock, trying desperately, if unsuccessfully, to push me out of her. “That’s right mommy...” I gasped, as my cock slammed deeper into her juicy little hole, “Little Tommy is about cum inside his mommy!” as I said it, I saw her eyes go wide, like somehow, she couldn’t believe I was actually going to cum in her. Thinking about it now, it was kinda funny, but at the time, all I really cared about was getting that fucking nut!

I slammed my cock into her, three more vicious thrusts, causing her to moan and gasp, as her face turned bright red. And man ... Did I fucking CUM! I mean, at fifteen most kids can blast out a pretty hard core load, but this one, holy shit. It felt like Mount Vesuvius just blew out of my nuts, I was surprised it didn’t blow it’s way out of mom’s back like a fucking cannon ball. Now ... at the time, I admit, I was way too young to fully understand female sexuality, shit, even years later, I’m still in the fucking dark on it most of the time. So I am not sure what it was, but I guess feeling her son cum inside of her got to mom somehow, because, and I shit you not, the second I started firing off inside that warm little snatch, mom started to fucking cum!

I must have fired at least five, very hard, hot ropes of cum into mom’s pussy, and I’m not gonna lie, feeling her cum right along with me, made it one of the best orgasms I’d had up to that point. She continued to spasm beneath me, as my grip on her throat tightened (no I didn’t do it on purpose, I was just cumming so hard I couldn’t stop myself from tensing up) and finally she went limp, as I let go. Finished with her, for the moment, I got out of bed like it was just another morning, leaving my mom laying there gasping, and twitching, like half the fucking town just had a go at her. “Get up mommy,” I said to her, that fucking grin creeping across my face again, “Or do you want Little Tommy to take another crack at you?” my words hit her like an electric shock, because I think she set a sprint record, going from my bed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Don’t forget to shave that fucking cunt mommy!” I think you could have spread my sarcasm with a spackel knife, “I don’t like hair on my pussy!” All I could do was laugh as I heard the hair trimmer she kept under the sink fire up. Looking back on it now, I think mom was a born submissive, but at the time, I just thought I had fucked her into submission. So yeah ... That’s how this story begins, it wasn’t the last time I fucked my mom, I actually continued to fuck her for almost three years, right up until they kicked my ass out of school for throwing my desk at my Spanish teacher. But none of those fucks, were ever as intense as that first fuck. After I left home, a couple of buddies, who I kept in contact with, told me mom actually stopped stripping shortly after, and started simply selling her ass for money. I’m not really sure what happened in the long run, I pulled a big smash and grab in one of those big ass, rich folk’s, homes across town, and made off with almost forty grand worth of jewelery, old coins, and even a couple stacks of cash. I was fucking gone, plain and simple, I never bothered looking back.

By the time I had left home, I had, sadly, reached my maximum growth. I was literally a hair short of six feet tall, but what I lacked in height, I made up for in bulk. I’m not the kind of guy who spends his whole life trying to sculpt every muscle on his body, I work for raw power, I’ve been described as barrel chested, but the truth is I’m nearly six foot, but I weigh two hundred seventy pounds. Google a pic of Tank Abbott in his prime, and you get a good idea of what I’m talking about. The only difference would be my arms are a lot thicker, and I don’t have quite the belly he does. So on top of being about six inches too short to make my mass look appealing, I am not exactly the best looking guy in the world. The lank mud brown hair I had inherited from my mom, I had decided when I was sixteen, had to go, so I keep my head bic’d down to the scalp. I have broad facial features, my jaw is too square, so I keep it hidden behind a chin strap beard, and a goatee. My cheek bones are wide and high set, and to make matters worse, my fucking brow actually slopes over a pair of icy blue eyes. I swear to Christ, I look like a fucking caveman with a bald head.

If it hadn’t been for the confidence that comes from knowing I can always punch you hard enough to put you to sleep, I would probably never get laid. But, and this sometimes makes me laugh, I think that most chicks I wind up fucking, only do it, because they might be afraid of what happens if they say no. It was that exact confidence however, that got me involved in the life I was living, when the bulk of this story takes place. After making my big score back home, I hopped a bus. I wasn’t particularly picky about where I was going, I was just getting the fuck out of dodge. So I grabbed the first bus leaving, and found myself stepping down into the glamorous city of ... Lansing Michigan...

Yeah, I know ... I had had enough cash to take a flight nearly anywhere, preferably some third world little South American shit hole, where my money could have lasted me years. But what do you want from me? I was two months shy of my nineteenth birthday, and up to that point the farthest I had ever traveled had been two hours away by car, to see fucking Motorhead play when I was seventeen. I’m being completely honest when I say, I had zero fucking clue what I was doing, and this was just where I wound up, and be honest with yourself, at the same age, do you think YOU would have done any better?

Okay ... So again, I think I need to explain something, just so you get the fact that I’m not completely full of shit. Even though I had been fucking my mom for nearly three years, I wasn’t a total piece of shit. She knew I wasn’t up to anything good whenever I left the house, she knew the money I brought back with me wasn’t honestly gained. But it didn’t stop her from taking the cash to pay the electric bill, or buy groceries, or shit, even to buy the coke I know she used way too much, or the booze we both drank way too often. I say this because, it taught me a couple valuable lessons, I was gonna need when I came to Lansing.

The first thing I needed when I got off the bus, was a place to stay, of the forty grand I had when I started, I had only spent about a thousand, on some new clothes, paying mom’s rent on the trailer for three months, my bus ticket, and the few meals I’d eaten on the sixteen hour trip north. So I knew I could get a decent place of my own. And fuck me, after looking at the local paper, if I had wanted to, I could have bought my own fucking HOUSE. But I also knew I was gonna need the cash to last, so, taking one of my lessons from mom, I rented a tiny little efficiency, all utilities included, and “fully furnished” with a full sized bed, a dresser, and a chair! I didn’t give a fuck honestly, it was small, it was cramped, but it was clean, and at two hundred twenty five dollars a month, it was mine!

I think my landlord nearly shit himself, when I paid a year’s rent in advance in cash. So there I was, nearly thirty six thousand dollars in my pocket, a roof over my head for the next year, and fuck all else, it was time to get to know my new home. I spent maybe a month learning the bus routes, and the different neighborhoods of Lansing. I found the bars that didn’t bother asking for I.D. and soon discovered the chicks that were happy to suck a cock in the men’s room for a drink or two. Life could have been better, but I didn’t give a fuck, I was actually enjoying myself.

About three months in, I was still close to thirty grand, but I knew I needed to pad that, and well, me being me, I knew sure as shit that I didn’t wanna have to work for a living, so I started scoping out the wealthier sections of town, looking for those fat scores that come along once in a while, and making up the difference with the smaller ones that kept me from dipping into my original cash.

So that had become my life, and I’m not complaining about it. I was enjoying myself, and best of all, being the new guy in a town this large, I was completely under the radar. Right up until that fateful night at a bar called Gus’s. It had been a good week, I found a house, just outside of MSU, that people like me dream about, it was one of those “reclaimed” houses, that young, stupid, rich people buy. Big, old, and full of shit that you can move really quick, for plenty of cash, antique silverware, jewelery, and easy to carry, small, high end electronics. I’m not kidding when I say it, I walked out of there with FIVE iPads, and enough other fun little toys to make me a small pile cash! And to top it all off, these people (whoever they were) had figured that being a couple blocks from the campus, and the police station, meant they didn’t even need a security system! Like I said, stupid, they actually thought that little blue sign was enough to keep someone out. I laughed all the way to the pawn shop. I had spent enough time sampling the town, to find that one gem, everyone knows about, but you gotta “know a guy” to hear about. This place was a dive, plain and simple, but the back room was a lowlife’s paradise. They jail broke smart phones, broke into computers, and basically made anything “less than legally” obtained, clean, and fresh for sale out of that dingy little shit hole. I walked away from that night with almost six grand in my pocket.

First stop? Gus’s, naturally. I had cash in hand, nothing to spend it on, and was looking to find one of those loose little sluts who loved it when a guy threw some money around. Jeez did I find it! I mean, FUCK, she was the kind of chick you NEVER see in a bar this seedy. Tight wouldn’t be the word for her man ... Lemme tell ya. All of maybe five foot three, one hundred twenty pounds, but stacked like a brick shit house! 38D 26 34, long, and I mean LONG, red hair down to the small of her back, a light olive skin tone, and ... Fuck me runnin, her fucking eyes were gun metal gray! Her name was Holly, and as soon as she saw me peel a C-note off my roll and order drinks for the house, she was on me like stink on shit. I wasn’t gonna argue about it either, here she was, absolutely the hottest bitch in the place, and she was hanging on my arm like a fucking tattoo, I was loving it.

Right up until some jackass with a pony tail, and a leather jacket decided I’d spent too much time talking to “his bitch”. I felt the hand on my shoulder, just a split second before I felt my stool being kicked out from under me. Fortunately, I had learned that move a few months before, on one of my first visits to Gus’s, and I managed to plant my left foot before my ass hit the floor. I spun around, and saw a thick built guy, older, maybe thirty five or so, standing in front of me, his black hair, like I said, pulled back into that fucking ridiculous pony tail, with what I can only describe as a pubic patch on the bottom of his chin. “Hey ya little shit,” he said, the stink of cheap beer and cigarettes on his breath, nearly made me vomit on him, “Gettin a bit too chatty with my bitch don’t ya think?”

Now ... I could argue that I wasn’t looking for a fight, that this chick had come on to me, but like I said in the beginning, being a bad guy just comes far too natural to me. So I fixed him with that fucking grin of mine, doubled up my right fist, grabbed him by his right shoulder, and punched him in his beer gut as hard as I fucking knew how ... Ya know that look of utter shock on someone’s face when they get way more than they bargained for? Yeah ... He had it. I think my fist went almost three inches into this dude’s gut, and me holding his shoulder, only meant that he couldn’t double over, so his feet were forced almost a foot backward from the force of the punch. His cheeks puffed up, and that strangled ‘Ooompf’ that forced it’s way out of his throat was VERY satisfying! But I didn’t have time to gloat, I wanted this shit over before he could recover, so I hoisted his shoulder to the left, and using that angle slammed an uppercut into the corner of his jaw. He sort of slid down my leg, as his eyes glazed over, and I left him laying there, while I finished my drink. I put my arm around Holly’s waist, and dragged her to the back door, and the alley beyond.

I’d like to say we spent the whole night making mad passionate love to each other, but you know I’d be lying. What actually happened, was I hoisted that hot little tart up onto the empty kegs behind the bar, pulled her little hip hugger shorts down to the middle of her thighs, and slammed almost nine inches of hard cock into one of the tightest, wettest, baldest, little fuck holes I’d ever felt. She looked shocked when I just thrust it in, but I fixed that fucking grin her way, and she shut the fuck up quick. I pushed my dick into that tight little cunt until I felt my balls resting on her firm little ass, and just started pounding, taking short strokes, letting my cock luxuriate in her wet little furnace. The walls of her cunt were massaging my head like a suction pump, pulling on me to keep me in place as I pulled out, and gripping me tight as they welcomed me back in.

She was moaning into my shoulder as my hands mauled her huge tits through her flimsy little tank top, “Oh fuck god!” she moaned loudly, as she wrapped her hands around my neck. It just made me slam all the harder into her luscious cunt, and her back arched hard, pushing her tit into my hand, “Oh Jesus I’m cumming!” she wailed, that last word literally wound up petering out into a squeak, while she shook through an orgasm that probably would have made most women jealous. Just the feel of her pussy clamping on me like a vice, and it was one and done for me. I slammed one more thrust into that soaking little box of hers, and just fired off. I must have shot seven hard blasts of cum into that gripping cunt, and each one just made her moan even louder.

Finally, I was done, and pulled out, I honestly didn’t want to, but I didn’t need her man coming out of that door any time soon, and sticking a knife in me either. As I was hiking up my pants, Holly started giggling uncontrollably. “What’s so funny babe?” I asked her, I admit, I barely knew her, but the fact that I just fucked her stupid in an alley stinking of old beer, and piss, and she was laughing made me curious.

“Do you know who you just knocked out? Or who’s woman you just fucked like a ten dollar whore?” she asked, her giggles not stopping as the thought of it kept coming back to her.

“Some douche bag who needed his ass kicked as much as he needed a haircut,” I replied honestly. Hey, like I told you before, I am NOT a nice guy. He had Holly, I wanted Holly, he had to go. Plain and simple.

Holly laughed even harder at my reply, right up until she realized I was completely serious, then her eyes got wide. “You just floored Bobby Bones,” she said earnestly, apparently she thought the name should mean fuck all to me, and when she saw I either didn’t know, or didn’t care, she went on to explain “You just knocked out one of the top enforcers for The Hellions,”

My “give a fuck” meter suddenly went from 0 to “We have buried the fucking needle!” real fucking quick! I’d only been in town a few months, but I fucking knew that The Hellions were not those with whom to fuck! They weren’t your typical biker gang, these fuckers had the reputation of being ruthless to the point of extremes. If you were in their territory, you paid, it didn’t matter what you were doing, you paid. If you didn’t pay, someone like Bobby Bones paid you a visit, and THEN you paid. These were the kinds of people who burned down an apartment building to get at a guy locked on the top floor. They didn’t care about collateral damage, they got theirs, and that’s all that mattered. I actually kind of admired them. Of course, that means a pile of dog shit after I just put one of their guys to sleep.

“And now you’re laughing because... ?” I demanded of Holly, my voice got low on that one, I was pissed that she dragged me into this shit.

“Because I just gave you funeral pussy. Bobby isn’t gonna be happy about me fucking you of course, but he’ll understand giving a condemned man his last meal,” her girly little giggle suddenly rubbed me VERY wrong, and I just wanted her to shut the fuck up. So I made her. Yeah, I can hear you right now, ‘You hit a woman!?’ but you gotta remember, I hatefucked the shit out of my mother for almost three years, so hitting a bitch who has it coming, not really a stretch for a piece of shit like me is it? So yeah, I hit her. Not nearly as hard as hit her douche bag boyfriend, but hard enough to shut her the fuck up. Now it was time for damage control, ya know, before they burned down MY house, just to shoot me as I ran out of the building.

The Hellions had their club headquarters on Cedar Street right near the Red Cedar River. Takes a while by bus to get there, so I said fuck it, and paid the forty five bucks for a cab. Now ... Let’s see if I can describe this to you. The Hell Hound is to a bar, what Fort Knox is to a walk up ATM machine. There’s a door man sure, but he’s not checking your ID, he’s more likely than not, a prospect the club can afford to lose, set up out there as an early warning system. Rivals, and cops were a very real possibility at this place, the poorly patched bullet holes dotting the walls gave all kinds of evidence to that.

I walked up to the door, and stopped, I didn’t know if the guy sitting next to it was armed, and I didn’t feel like getting shot, so I just asked. “Harvey inside?” and he shot me a look that could have soured milk. Harvey was the club president, and probably one of the most hated men in the city. His rivals wanted him dead, shit, even the COPS wanted him dead. They’d both tried too, from what I’d heard about it. Apparently Harvey had survived three bullets, a knife, and even a bombing (though in all honesty, whoever planted that bomb was an idiot, because it triggered when Harvey used his key fob to unlock his truck) no matter what they tried, they couldn’t kill that stubborn fucker.

“Thafuck’r you?” the door man asked, I guess he was trying to be tough, and I could see from where I was standing, he already had his bottom rocker, so I guess we wasn’t totally worthless. But I really didn’t have time to dick around. The biggest problem was, you just don’t come up to The Hell Hound, and ask to talk to Harvey. I knew this, but, like I said, I didn’t have time to dick around.

“I’m the fucking kid that just knocked the shit outta Bobby Bones. Now I need to see Harvey before shit gets even worse!” I actually growled at the guy, I figured if I spooked him just enough, he might get his ass in gear. I honestly wish I could say I took some bad ass stroll through that bar, staring down some of the toughest sons’a’bitches in town. But what really happened was, I felt one HELL of a smack to the back of my head, and had just enough left to watch the fucking pavement come rushing up to meet my face.

I’m not sure how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like Satan had just played the drum solo to Moby Dick in my damn head. I was sat in, probably one of the most uncomfortable seats in my life, in a dark smokey room, that just reeked of cheap whiskey and expensive cigars. On the plus side, at the very least, I wasn’t tied down, and I was still alive.

“So you’re the tough little shit that fucked up Bobby Bones?” The voice was, even to me, completely out of character for the man sitting in front of me. I mean SHIT! You ever watch one of those movies, where the helpless little chick turns the corner and sees the old man who looks like a killer, but turns out to be her best friend in the end? That was Harvey. The guy HAD to stand nearly seven feet tall, his right eye was clearly blinded, and there were scars that started in the, I can only call it a lion’s mane of white and gray, hair. They dipped down across his nose, over the blinded eye, and spread back across his head. His right ear was missing amidst that mass of scar tissue.