Unspoken Pleasure

Mom never tried to replace her finger with her tongue--I would have freaked out--and her tongue proved to be more than enough to get my pulse racing. My balls tightened within minutes, and that swirling itch of pleasure continued to dance atop the tip of my prick. I wanted to grab my knob and squeeze. Mom jerked me faster as my cock swelled, and her other hand rose to massage my balls in a caress that made me whimper.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," I moaned, my voice trembling and the darkness behind my eyelids exploding with color. I dug my fingertips into the backs of my knees. "Mom, fuck. I'm gonna come hard, Mom. Fuck, Mom. Fuck-fuck-fuck--Mom!" "Umm," Mom uttered as she took the head of my cock between her lips and sealed them shut. She never stopped jerking me off or rolling my balls within her fingers. I came, the cum within me seemed to explode from my tip, and Mom sucked it down, drinking it fast and quick. The sounds of her throat gulping down my jizz filled my ears.

I released my legs as my body turned to liquid. Only my orgasm remained, and it continued until I had no pleasure left within my body to give, leaving me an empty husk that could only tremble. As I lay panting and trying to regain my breath, I opened my eyes. Mom had stood, and she was smiling down at me as burning embers backlit the green of her eyes.

"I didn't just get ahead of my work yesterday," Mom whispered with a hungry tremor. "I finished today's work completely." She turned and started to walk away. "I'll be upstairs. Your room or mine?"This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

"Mine," I said as my pulse slowed and my breathing calmed. "Always mine during the day, where you belong."

Mom uttered a throaty, excited laugh and went upstairs. I sat on the couch, thinking about what naughty, nasty, and kinky things I should make my mother do next.

I didn't have many options when it came to getting kinkier with my mother. I didn't own any toys, straps, restraints, plugs, or dildos--dildos! I went upstairs, turning to the right and walking to my mother's room as my cock stayed semi-hard against my sack. Inside, I looked in her bedside drawer, where her dildo lay next to a palm-sized bottle of lube. I grabbed them. Before leaving her room, I stopped and looked at my parents' bed and their bedside drawers.

So much trust between my parents, I thought. As the words lingered in my mind, a chill ran down my spine. Did I count as a betrayal? No. A mother can't cheat on her husband with her son, right? Yeah, right.

I turned and left the room. Whether it was a betrayal or not, I wasn't going to stop, and if one day I discovered my own son fucking his mother or even my mother, I'd say, "Way to go, son. Way to go." "What the hell is wrong with me," I said as I reached my bedroom.

Mom hadn't closed the door. She was on my bed, near the edge, standing on her knees with her hair atop her head, held by two braids that seemed to have no end as they swam through her sunlight hair. How long had I been downstairs? She had grabbed two of my belts. One lay crosswise on the bed in front of her knees. She had folded the body over itself the way a pissed-off father might before he threatened to spank his daughter, and the other she had wrapped around her neck like a leash, the long end pulled forward and hanging over her left shoulder.

"Well," Mom whispered, looking at the dildo in my hand. "What have you come here to make your mother do now?"

I sighed as I dropped my eyes between my mother's legs. She was standing with her knees spread, and the point of her blonde pussy glistened, ending in a wet, pink line that the sunlight pouring through my bedroom windows lit from behind. "Everything," I said and walked forward with my heart thumping and my cock swelling.

Our mouths met, our tongues danced, and I dropped onto the comforter in front of the belt laid out in front of my mother's knees. My right hand grabbed onto Mom's makeshift leash and pulled, not hard, but Mom reacted as if I had. "Uh," she groaned, tilting her head back and arching her spine as she pushed her hips forward. I pressed my lips harder against hers, and I brought my left hand forward, cupping her silky pussy and pushing my middle finger into the dewy slickness between her cunny lips.

"Have you been a bad girl, Mom?" I asked, the words pouring out of me with no thought behind them. "Has my mother been bad?"

"Yes," Mom whispered, nodding her head and looking up at me. Her eyes looked big and glazed, as though she were drunk, and her movements had a slow sensuality that reminded me of walking in a dream. "I have."

My cock rose from my sack, turning rock-hard and pushing into my mother's stomach. Mom's hands came up, grabbing my shaft, one atop the other, and she started a double-fisted jerk over my cock. I looked down, moaning, and so did she, opening her mouth. Her spit landed atop my knob a second later, and her hands rolled over it, pulling the saliva down my shaft toward my balls. Mom jerked me fast and hard, producing sticky-wet music as she drooled more of her spit over my prick.

"Ah, you fucking slut," I moaned.

"Yeah," Mom said in a rough voice. "I'm a dirty, naughty slut who needs a spanking."

I laughed, thinking, I was getting to that! But what I said was, "You've needed a spanking for a long time, haven't you?"

"Too long, baby." Mom's words trembled. "It's been at least eighteen fucking years since your father last hit me." "Hit?"

"Spanked," Mom whispered, "but it sounds so fucking hot to say 'hit."