Taming Mom (closed for Rocket1010)

[apom]

"John"...

I clench the nightshirt in a fist at my hip and grit my teeth, staring out the window of my bathroom at the rain and knuckling the fat tear rolling belligerently down my cheek. Tonight of all nights he's out with that bitch, again.

"One... Two... Three..."

I sob and turn away from the storm. It's just a stupid birthday, Josephine. You've had 33 of them. Get a fucking grip.

Thunder rumbles outside. Lightning flashes, my face flickering in front of me for a split second. I flip on the light and cringe at the picture in the mirror: long, mousy brown hair, red-rimmed eyes the color mud, tears and running mascara painting an otherwise plain, pale face.

I pucker at myself and tilt my head. My lips part. "Mmm. Miss G, that is absolutely the most fuckable mouth I've ever seen." His name was Brandon, one of John's friends, in the kitchen one night and right the hell out of nowhere with a not-so boyish grin, and then turning and heading promptly for the living room where the rest of them were watching TV.

He was joking, I know, but...

I swallow hard and shuffle off into the bedroom, dig through my underwear drawer where there's no silk, no frilly little things. My fat ass swallows a thong so there's none of those either.

Thunder cracks again, lightning strobing through the darkness. Grabbing something from the drawer I peel the t-shirt up over my body, my heavy sagging breasts flopping free, and toss it aside, wiggle the granny pants down over the thickness of my thighs and kick them aside, and stand for a moment fingering the sticky, lightly haired minge between my legs. It's 1:30 am.

Where are you, John? She doesn't know you, not like I do. She doesn't know what you need. She can't give you what I can...

I flop to my back on the bed and wiggle until my bottom is just hanging over the edge, lifting my knees and teasing my soppy hole with the tip of a girthy toy from the drawer.

What is happening, John? Is she touching you? Are her lips on your neck? Her hands under your clothes? Are you thinking of me?

My breath catches as the silicone phallus sinks into me, distending as I push, stretching me to accommodate its girth. I bite my lip, suck air between my teeth, back arching as I press the cold length deeper inside me. Groping with my free hand for the phone on the bed at my side, I push play.

"Hey..."

I swallow at the sound of his voice, the weight of my spreading legs pulling tension in my abdomen as the shaft slides slowly out of my sweating gash. I moan softly. It has been so long...

"I'm probably gonna be late tonight so, well, I dunno. We're heading down to the lake for a while..."

We've always been close, just you and me. You tell me everything. Right? What are you telling HER?

I jam the dildo back into my hole, grinding, tears sliding from the corners of my clenched eyes, a sudden sharp ache jabbing low in my belly, a small whimper escaping my throat. The toy slurps wetly as it slides out, then back in, hard, painful, my knees flexing, bobbing as I fuck myself...out-in, out-in, out-in...my throat tight, wailing, tears now flooding from my eyes.

"And mom, don't wait up."

I jam the phallus into my cunt one last time, frantically pinching, flicking my swollen clit until... BOOM! I shudder violently, sharp, sudden pangs of need, longing, desperation, of loss ripping through my damp, quivering body. I choke, sobbing, and curl into myself.

"J..John"... I whisper through the tears and snot.

Out in the house, a door opens.

 

[Rocket1010]

"John ..... JOHN ..... What are you thinking about?" I hear Sally's voice tear through my thoughts as rain drops hit the windshield. "You seem to be miles away tonight ..... what's the problem."

"Uhhh ... no problem," I mumble feeling her fingers sliding along the inside of my jean covered thighs. Sally is my latest girlfriend and like all the other past girls I dated, my mom doesn't like her. But I moan when I feel her fingers unzip my jeans and her hand snakes inside to find my hardened cock.

As Sally frees my thick cock, I can't help but think of my mom. She thinks they are going to lead me down the wrong path. I can still hear my mom's voice, "John I know what's best for you. Those hussies don't know how to take care of you the way I do."

I called and was surprised when she didn't answer the way she always does. I left her a message telling where we were going and that I'd be home late and not to wait up. Early in the evening me and my friends decided to go to the lake and build a bonfire. And as usual Brandon brought the beer. Even though we are under age, he has a way of securing the alcohol. Everything was going good until we saw lightening light up the sky.

Lightening flashed, lighting the inside of my car for a moment before the rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Sally and I were in the backseat and I let out another moan when she pulled my jeans down far enough to completely expose my raging hardon.

I started to unbutton her blouse but she stopped me. "I'm on my period John. Let me help you and next week we can resume playing."

"Fuck," was my response but when she leaned down and took me into her mouth, I forgot about sinking my cock into her cunt and for a few minutes I forgot about my mom telling me Sally was a bitch. Sally knew how to make me squirm with lust and soon I was moaning, feeling her hot mouth sliding up and down my shaft before she pulled off and wrapped my cock in a napkin. She told me she didn't like the taste of semen as I shot a thick load into the paper napkin.

The rain began to pelt the car harder and Brandon texted everyone telling them the night was over and he was going home. I dropped Sally off and on the way home thought of my mom all alone at the house. I recently turned 18 and she had me when she was 15. She told me numerous times that she didn't know the father but she didn't want to give up the baby. So I was raised by my mom without a father and she was the only parent I knew.

I love my mom and thought she knew what was best for me, never challenging her authority. But lately I was getting the feeling I wanted to make a lot of my own decisions. I know she means well but I need to be more independent and lately it has led to some heated disagreements between us. In fact I was growing tired of always arguing with her about small trival things, like going out with girls. She always seemed to think I should stay home with her but I was 18 and eager to spread my wings so to speak.

It was almost 2 am in the morning when I got home and saw her bedside light still on through the window. I shuddered a little thinking what she might have to say about Sally and being out so late. I walk into the house, feeling a bit nervous as to what she might want to talk about.

 

[apom]

A light snaps on out in the living room and I quickly grab the t-shirt and wipe myself.

Jo, you idiot.

My heart flips as his footfalls echo on the hardwood floor. He's alone!

Flinging the musky shirt toward the bathroom I step to the closet, pull a nighty from a hanger and drop it over my head. It falls over my body to the generous curves of my hips, and I tug it down the rest of the way, straightening it over my boobs.

I haven't worn this one in a while and it's probably a size too small anymore, snug across the bust and from the waist down, and cuts me fairly high across the thighs, but it's comfortable and I like the way it looks. Nobody ever sees me in my jammies anyways, well, nobody but my son and some of his friends when they roll in and catch me working in the kitchen or reading on the couch.

The dark circles of my areolas show through the top, and I covered myself and scampered out red-faced the first time it happened. Being around them was a bit awkward for a while after that. I mean, the way my nipples jutted out into the thin, white cotton, like the poles of a circus tent, saying HELLO BOYS! What must they think of me?

What do you think of yourself, slut?

I pause for a moment to compose myself and think for a second about tying the laces across the plunging neck of the nighty, but I bulge into the top and the neck gaps open, so I can't do that if I want to. Really, how long has it been since I had this thing on?

Forgetting what a mess my face is, I flip the light switch off and step out the door. Our house is small, a little cabin in the woods, centered around this living room where we spend most of our time. A rustic rug covers the center of the floor, surrounded by oak planks the color of a gun stock. Knotty pine panels the walls, yellow with age, broken by doorways leading into the entry hall, the kitchen and our bedrooms. The TV hangs on the wall opposite the kitchen door, fronted by a brown cloth-covered couch shaped like an L.

John isn't in sight but the kitchen light is on and I head that way. The house is old and breezy, and the sides of the nighty slit to my waist and gap wide across the outer curves of my bare thighs. I shiver.

God, I miss him when he's gone, and my heart is always happy when he comes home to me, where he belongs, but I hate the looks he gives me when I hug and kiss him and ask him about his day. Sometimes I don't, and it always leaves me in a mood when I don't know where he's been, what he's been doing or who he's been doing it with. He was always such an open and happy boy, always eager to talk to his mom. And I get it. He's definitely not a boy anymore. But I'm his mom and boy or man, he will always be mine.

I try to smile as I spot him over at the fridge and approach, opening my arms and hugging him from behind. I'm 5'2" in bare feet and bury my face in the middle of his back and wrap my arms around him. I snuggle my face into his muscular body and breathe him in. God he smells good, all outdoor air and...man.

I just can't help myself. "Have fun?" I ask, not really wanting to know. "Who else was there? What'd you guys do?" Getting no reply I nudge him around to face me and try to hide the anger and pain as I look up into his eyes...

 

[Rocket1010]

As I scrouge through the refrigerator for something to munch on, I feel like my life is in a huge turmoil. I'm angry at Sally because she is on her period and I really wanted more sex tonight. Instead I got a blow job and then a hand job to finish it off. It seems like it has been ages since we've had sex.

My job sucks at the manufacturing plant since they could only give me part time work for the summer. I have to decide about college and whether I want to go or not. And thinking about college I get the feeling that leaving home, my mom will be devastated.

And there is my mom, so clingy, so needy, always wanting to know where I've been and what I've been doing and with who. It was fine when I was a little boy and she made sure I had everything she could give me. We didn't have a lot but she made sure that every birthday was filled with presents.

But when I becamce a teenage, the teasing got to be a bit much sometimes with my friends. They teased when she showed up at my sporting games, hugged me tightly after the game, and then held my hand. My friends said she was my girlfriend and I was embarrased sometimes when some of the girls were nearby and heard their teasing.

It just seemed the whole world was crashing around me and I was in a tight cocoon. And now it was 2 am and I had a feeling my mom was still awake. As I pulled an apple out of the refrigerator, I feel your arms wrap around me, your hard nipples rubbing against my back. I feel a shiver slice through me, feeling your head rest on the middle of my back.

I must have gotten my dad's height because at 5'10" I seem to tower over your 5'2" height. I sense that you are going to start your inquistion and you don't disappoint me when you ask the same question you ask everytime I come home. "Have fun?" Everytime ..... everytime the same question whether I go to the store or come home from work or go out with friends ..... the same question. And I reply the same as I always do .... "Yes I had fun."

I know the rest is coming when you ask, "Who else was there? What'd you guys do?" It's the same question again and when I don't reply immediately, I feel your breasts pushing against my body as you nudge your way to stand in front of me. I can see the anger and pain in your eyes, wanting to know who was spending time with your boy .... your baby .... John.

I look down at your night shirt, seeing your nipples poking out and your cleavage. I feel something .... not sure what the hell it is .... but I know I shouldn't have those feelings. A vision of your naked breasts jumps into my brain and I try to shake it off. But with what happened with Sally tonight, I can't shake it and wonder what your tits would look like. I try again to shake off the images and succeed at least for the moment.

I was wound tight as I mustered enough to say, "Sally and I went to the lake with Brandon and some other friends. I told you that in my phone message." My voice is tinged with anger that I have to repeat where I've been and who I've been with every fucking time. I see the hurt in your eyes when I mention Sally's name knowing you think she's not good enough for me. Recently, as I get out into the world I suspect you'll never see any girl or woman good enough for me. ..... except you.

I could feel the anger growing and my fists curled into balls as I speak about the bonfire and then the rain. I wasn't going to tell you what happened in the backseat of my car. But with all the anger and frustration in my life coming down on me like an avalanche roaring down a mountain side, I said. "And yes mom. We had sex .... well partly sex. Seems she is on her period and all she could do was give me a half-hearted blow job and she wouldn't take my cum but made me ejacuate into a napkin."

Why in the hell was I telling my mother this embarrasing tale? I feel you back away suddenly and with my hands on your shoulders, I feel your nightshirt slip off your shoulders and it just seems to disappear falling off you and leaving you naked in front of me.

"Mom .... I'm sorry," I try to say but then I think it's the total buildup and of years of coddling and cuddling, I give you a devilish smile. I put my hands on your shoulders and I feel my hands shaking, wondering what the hell I'm doing. "Go on mom I know you've wanted to see what your boy .... turned into man looks like." With nervous anticipation, I push on your shoulders until you are kneeling before me.

Suddenly a lightening flash filled the kitchen and a roar of thunder shook the house as another storm hit. But like the storm outside, I wondered what kind of storm I started in the kitchen, seeing your eyes looking up and me and then at my jeans.

 

[apom]

"Yes, I had fun," you say, the edge in your voice cold, cutting. I wince. Yes, I've been strict, held you back, kept you close, but only to protect you, my son, because I love you more than anything, more than anyone else ever could. Can't you see?

"Who else was there?" I ask, knowing, my voice quiet, quivering, accusing in my passive-aggressive way. "What did you guys do?"

My throat tightens at your silence, my hands falling to your waist and gently urging you around to face me. I don't want to see but I have to know. I look up into your face, searching.

Your eyes fall on me, as steely as your voice. I see your judgement. I feel your rage and I want to look away. But I can't. You command my gaze in a way that you have never commanded me before. I have needed to keep you close, safe, and loving you this hard has demanded all of me since the moment I gave you life. Standing before you here, now, though you're not a boy for me to nurture. You're not even mine. I am yours. And that is all.

My face heats as your eyes graze my form, and for the first time in 18 years I'm conscious of my body in your presence.

"Sally and I went to the lake with Brandon and some other friends. I told you that in my phone message."

Ah, the hot little whore. Johnny was inside you for a whole nine months, Josi. Bet he's been inside her too. Heh. Loogout bitch! The boy is pissed!

The sound of your voice breaks me out of the trance and I just stand for a second. You're angry and I don't understand. What can I do? What can I say to make things the way they used to be? You have to see. You have to know. Don't you? Pretty girls like her are a dime a dozen, but, my son, you are a man. You need a woman and I am me, your mom, and I am right here, for you, for now and for always. Please, let me show you--like I always have...

"We built a bonfire..."

I stare at the floor between my feet and nod absently along as you recount your evening...

"Rain... Brandon..."

...wishing things could have been different, that maybe if I'd not yelled...

"Beer..."

....if we'd just sat and talked about it like we always had...

"Sally..."

...You wouldn't have gone. We'd have had cake and you'd have sung happy birthday, and we'd have watched funny movies until...

"...the back seat of my car. And yes, mom, we had sex..."

My heart thuds.

"... all she could do was give me a half-hearted blow job..."

My head swims.

"... made me ejaculate into a napkin."

I tremble as I back away, my knees...weak, my breaths quick and shallow, heat overcoming me and I... I... don't even know... But then I'm standing in front of you, staring at the floor, and the nighty pooling innocently around my feet...

My head pulses. My heart Slams. My body heavess for breath. What? Wwwhat???

You say something but blood is thrumming like thunder in my ears, and then your hands are on my slender shoulders, heavy, powerful, demanding, pressing me to the floor.

Lightning Strikes.

I don't fight.

My bare knees spread across the cold hardwood as I sink in front of you, terror slamming in my chest. I glance up timidly, a wail welling in my throat as for the first time I recognize the all too familiar look gripping your face: fury, raw and plain, years of resentment and hate that have been boiling inside you as I have smothered and ignored you all of your life.

All I ever wanted was to love you.

My eyes meet yours, tears of submission streaking my face, pleading, begging you for forgiveness, for permission. You withdraw your hands from my bare shoulders and press your hips forward, a wordless command I know very well.

My heart is going to pound through my ribcage. I can feel the pulse in the painfully engorged tips of my nipples, wetness beading between my parted legs and my face flushing hotly with shame. I avoid your eyes but I can feel the heat of your gaze on top of my head as I reach to unfasten the button at your waist and ease your zipper down. I tug at your pants, down over your thighs a just enough that I can get my hands inside and free your hardened cock. It's brutally obvious that I've done this kind of thing a thousand times before.

My hands are warm and skillful, just ungentle enough as they lift your balls from the denim, squeezing with the firm, loving touch of an expectant mother. Always the vocal slut and quite the generous self-lubricator, I moan as thick dew slides down the insides of my thighs, sob, crying softly and taking you into my hands, pushing back the foreskin of your rigid, uncut organ and gasping like a little girl as its shiny, bulging purple head blooms in front of my face.

Leaning forward, I bow my head and tenderly lick the mucous from from you, the tiny pungent bits of creamy yellow from the creases and folds of skin, cleaning you as I have so many times before, this time my mouth the tool of your genital hygiene. Pausing, I swallow--mucous and ammonia and salt.

I lean close again, my lips parting over your swollen head, tongue squirming over its slick surface, pointed and dipping into the salty little hole at its tip. I breathe heavily against you, hot and lusty, and rise up on my thick haunches, frantically pulling your pants down below the cleft of your tight bottom, my hands simultaneously releasing you and curling around the backs of your bare thighs as I press my face into your crotch, my jaws spreading wide to accommodate your girth, you meeting my force and and pushing your pelvis forward, thrusting the corpulent shaft of your cock deep into my throat.

I gag.

 

[Rocket1010]

I'm looking down at you with wonderment as you stare at my jeans. How in the world did I have the courage to tell my mother to uncover my manhood and see what a man I have become? I have surprised myself with the boldness that I have always thought about but never had the courage to say to you. But the words were out in the open and now I feel a nervousness watching and wondering what you will do.

And the sight of your bare breasts swaying with each breath you take is mesmerizing. I feel another shiver course through me seeing your stiff nipples pointing outward as of to welcome a hand or mouth. What would they feel like to touch and tweak and what would they feel like if I put my lips around one and sucked on it like I did when I was a baby?

The underlying anger I have and have surpressed for so many years is still present but it's slowly being replaced by something else. A realization that I am a becoming a man with my own sense of feelings. For so long I was under your spell, not wanting to hurt your feelings. But tonight, like the lightning continuing to light up our small house, I am starting to feel liberated and becoming the man you have wanted me to become for a long time .... a loving son.

The bond between us since I was your baby boy is slowly stretching like a rubber band about to break. For so long I have been afraid to hurt your feelings and am now realizing that you have wanted me to be .... strong, resilient, taking charge. I can see the love in your eyes as your fingers grasp and unfasten the button on my jeans and the sound of the zipper as you begin to pull it down.

I know you can recognize the anger and resentment I have felt for years written all over my face. But slowly that anger is receding; being replaced with something more personal. I see the tears of love in your eyes as the zipper reaches its termination point. But your eyes avoid contact with my eyes but you can't hide the look of joy of excitement of what you're about to uncover as my hips jut forward toward your face.

I let out a soft moan watching you tug my pants and feel your fingers searching for and finding my thick cock lying in wait for you. My eyes close and let the feeling of your exploring fingers find my cock and realize as your fondle my cock and balls, you are very seasoned. I should have known you were experienced way beyond the years of my girlfriends. But the way you carefully caress and kiss my cock rather than try to gobble it up in one fell swoop makes my knees weak with passion.

I hear your moan and know it is a moan of appreciation of what you have found hidden in my jeans. I can't help but let out a few more continuous moans as you push back the foreskin of my uncircumcised cock and then kiss it tenderly. Your kisses are not like the ones Sally or of my past girlfriends when they clumsily play with my manhood. No, each touch of your lips is as if you're worshipping my cock as something special.

I feel my knees weaken as you lick and kiss my shaft before taking it reverently between your lips sucking on the swollen head. My hands search and find the top of your head, my fingers intertwining in your strands of hair. I don't force you but instead allow you to take your time discovering for the first time your son's manly cock.
I hear your heavy breathing as pull down my jeans and I step out of them and then feel your hands on the back of my thighs. It again shows your experience with a man's cock and I wonder just how many cocks you have had in the past. I let out an animalistic growl as you take more and more of my shaft deeper into your mouth. I push my hips forward and am met with your mouth pushing against my hips.
I'm expecting you to stop the way all my past girlfriends have done. They stop short of taking my shaft past the back of their throat but you are so different. I feel your head bobbing back and forth and my fingers curl in your hair as you work your mouth onto my cock. I fully expect you to pull back but you don't. I feel the bulge of my cockhead pushing against your throat muscles and then my body shakes as I feel it slide into your throat.
My fingers tighten more and I look down to see tears rolling down your cheeks and your eyes bulging wide. My cock throbs inside your throat and then I hear a soft gagging sound as you pull out and grab a huge breath of air. I see you looking up at me as if asking how you're doing.

"Ohhhh fuck mom ..... you are the best."

And then I see a soft smile and your lips part and you don't take your time now. No, your head is bobbing back and forth faster and I feel your teeth scrapping against my veiny skin. And then again I feel your throat muscles massaging my cock deep inside your mouth. My body is on fire and my fingers, coiled in your hair, begin to force your head back and forth.

The sensations are unreal and for a moment I forget you are my mom. I look down into your eyes that are centered on looking up at me. "That feels so good .... I'm going to cum down your throat," I manage to say in a deep husky tone as my balls tighten in anticipation of giving you a creamy load.

I pull you off my shaft one last time, seeing my precum and your saliva dripping down your chin. "Get ready," I announce as I pull your mouth onto my cock and force my cock deep into your mouth, knowing that I am about to give you a load of my seed.

 

[apom]

My head lolls back as your organ drills my mouth, spreading my jaws wide and stretching my lips thin and tight around the thickness at its base, the length of you buried deep in my face and bumping me in the back of the throat.

Oh god, NO...

I gag.

Useless whore.

I flinch away, trembling. My heart skips. Warmth emerges between my legs as my bladder cuts loose all over the floor and my face flushes with the scorching heat of shame, my chest pumping a staccato of thin, quick, labored breaths huffing in and out through my nose. I forget where I am, who we are, my head going somewhere else. And it's a good thing. Nobody has ever needed my brain, including me. My body knows what to do.

The education of pain tempers my thudding heart, the electric impulse of desperation coursing my brain and jolting my nerves, and I lean slowly, carefully away. My lips and teeth drag your sensitive skin in a conflict of sharp and blindingly soft, wet and warm sensations, my tongue exploring the veiny contour of your manhood as I recede, loving you with a mother's mouth in a pathetic and needy but fearful way, pleasuring you with the lusty desire of a woman and at the same time tentative, begging, like a frightened little girl.

I summon my courage, take a deep breath and smile lovingly up at you as I've been trained, my eyes sliding closed at the touch of your fingers threading into my hair. Warm breath buffets your abdomen, a small whimper escaping me as you grip tighter, and I press forward, my ample thighs bulging with the effort of sustaining the pose, hands sliding up to clasp your cheeks.

I pause for a moment, my face shifting against you, the awkward motion of a mouth and throat swimming in saliva but stuffed way too full to swallow. Rimmed with tears, my eyes open slowly, smeared but dark, smoky and deep. Hearing your voice, I look up.

"...I'm going to cum down your throat."

My eyes widen suddenly. My heart thumps in my throat and my mouth tightens around your cock, ache blooming low in my abdomen, the gooey, well-used hole gaping between my legs heaving visibly with conflicted latent desire. Confusion and distress fill my face as you push me away, my mouth sliding grudgingly off of you with a thick, sloppy slurp.

I look guiltily at the floor. Saliva and pre-cum run down and dangle in a sticky string from my chin. I lick my lips. Oh, god. What am I doing? He's just a child, MY child. This is so, so wrong. "I..."

"Get ready!" you announce, gruffly taking me by fistfuls of hair and jerking my body across the hardwood to you, forcing my face into your crotch and plunging your cock down my throat.





Your suddenness startles me but it's nothing I'm not used to and I react like proper chattel, submit, giving myself to you completely. My jaws relax, opening wider, my eyes on the floor where they belong, hands poised lightly at your hips.

You pull out, with more urgency now, and plunge yourself back into my throat, my mouth slick and hot stroking your shaft as you pump it into me with building force, a velvety hole in a piece of meat designed and built for your pleasure. IN and out, faster now, IN-out, IN-out, harder, my head bobbing frenetically, hands falling away as our rhythms sync, IN-out, IN-out, each thrust of your hips knocking my face back, my body jolted, heavily hanging udders flopping obscenely as you pound away at my face.

A faint, needy whimper escapes me as you draw back and slam yourself sternum-deep in my throat, your body tensing, your organ hardening. I suck you with with desperation and clutch your bottom, my fingernails digging into your flesh and pulling you deeper as you fuck my skull. You shudder, groaning lustily, the sudden salty warmth of your semen exploding in my mouth. Your hips buck and you unload in my mouth again, the motion between us slowing to a stop.

You dismount my face and take a step back. I can't look at you but I can hear you breathing. I know better than to swallow before I know you're looking. The silence is awkward but I pant along with you until I feel your eyes on me, and I swallow, hard, performing for you as I've performed so many times, your slick saltiness sliding luxuriously down my throat. I cock my head and force a smile, licking a trail of cum from the corner of my mouth. As I'm taught I drop to my hands in the urine, where I belong, my breasts hanging like fat speed bags beneath me.

The steel clamp of guilt grips my guts. I'm suddenly cold. What is he thinking? He doesn't know this side of me. I know my boy. He's going to ask. Josephine, what the fucking hell have you done?

Stupid cunt.

 

[Rocket1010]

My body prepares for the ultimate award and pleasure about to descend on me. My grip on your strands of hair is tight as my hips drive back and forth against your face. I watch my cock enter and leave your lips as the pleasure builds to a cresendo. My breathing is ragged, each panting breath expelling air and then reclaiming it. Each grunt .... each moan ... tells of my anger that has built up over years. I don't have time to think why I have such feelings. All I know as I look down at my cock stretching your mouth wide open is that I this has been a long time coming.

I hear your whimper as my cock slides deep into your mouth and it reminds me of past whimpers and other sounds I've heard from your bedroom late at night. Sometimes it was only you and the buzzing sound that you told me in the morning was your massager for stiff muscles. Other nights when you thought I was sleeping I heard the voice of strange men and sometimes the sound of a hand striking skin along with a whimper.

The men were never there in the morning and I often wondered if one of the men could be my father. But I learned from an early age they were men who you met when you said you were going out for the evening with friends. I didn't ask who they were in the morning when you made my breakfast and scolded me for not finishing some task or homework.

But the sounds I'm hearing now as you accept my cock are so familiar to the ones you made with your late night visitors. The memory of those nights only fuels my anger and each violent thrust against your face only wants me to give me the pleasure of exploding in your throat.

But just as I vent my anger, I sense you are really enjoying what you're doing to your son's cock. Are you thinking of me or are you thinking of one of your late night visitor's cock sliding in and out of your receptive mouth. I feel your fingernails digging hard into my ass cheeks, pulling my hips against you and wanting to hold my cock deep inside your mouth.

Then the moment of truth arrives. My eyes close ..... my body freezes for a moment .... my breathing stops .... and then there is no stopping my cock from throbbing hard as the flood of cum streams into your mouth and throat. My grip loosens in your hair and I pull out seeing my cum and your saliva pool in your mouth that you haven't swallowed.

You look up at me, your eyes shimmering and then their is an awkward moment. At the same time, there is a flash of lightning filling the kitchen followed by a distant roar of thunder. I get a dread sense of uneasiness realizing the storm outside is over but the one here in the kitchen, with my mom, is just starting.

Your mouth is hanging open as if to show me what a good girl you are by not swallowing all my offering. You offer me a smile but your eyes betray you. Did you think for a moment I was one of your nighttime visitors? I see the glee on your face change from that satisfying smile to one of concern as you certainly realize where you are and what you are doing ..... with your son.

And I too realize what is happening and what we've done ..... mom giving oral sex to her son. That is not right and I feel a sudden nervousness as you drop your hands onto the floor that is wet with your womanly secretions and urine. Why are you bowing your head? I'm confused. Is this what you do with your midnight visitors? My mind is conflicted. What the hell have we done?

What have I done with my mom? It's wrong .... ohh so wrong and I sense a sudden regret comsume me. I look down at your body, head bowed and breasts handing down. What the fuck is the meaning of all this? I stand frozen for a moment unable to speak or move, just looking down at you.

I had so much anger pent up inside me. Where is the mother who clung to me in public? Where is the mother who strict, making sure my room was clean and I wore decent clothes when I went out? And where is the mother who chastized me .... scolded me .... for going out with girls my own age? But now that anger seem to subside but not totally.

I don't understand why you're kneeling before me, not saying a word and have yet to look up at me or risen to your feet. Where is the woman who was always wanting to protect me? So many conflicting thoughts are running loose in my head. I glance at the wall clock seeing it's almost 3 am. Tomorrow is Satruday so I can sleep in.

I suddenly realize that all those years of her coddling me was not to protect me but her need to be with me. Her need to feel wanted. Tonight the door was opened and it was now a matter of opening it wider.

"Mother ..... " I waited for you to pick your head up and look at me. My heart was beating fast. "Mom .... I'm sorry about what happened tonight. It's wrong and we shouldn't have done what we did." I stopped and felt like I was no longer that little boy who his mother was protecting. "I'm going to take a shower. Clean up your mess and think about what the fuck you did and then I want you to tell me why the fuck you let this happen. It's something that never can be changed."

I see you start to say something but I put up my hand. "Save it for now mom. You can tell me after our shower." I walked away toward the bathroom knowing that soon my mom would be joining me in the shower."

 

[apom]

The weight of guilt and the stench of urine permeate my consciousness, a tag-team of failure and shame with which I'm all too familiar.

Pissing yourself again, you filthy fucking whore? What are you, two? On your ugly fucking face. And clean up your fucking...

"Mother..."

I lift my head, the sound of your voice commanding my attention. I look up at you with the compliant eagerness I've been educated to feel.

"I'm sorry about what happened tonight. It's wrong and we shouldn't have done what we did."

A knot swells in my throat. Tears well in my eyes. I suddenly feel old and silly, naked here on my hands and knees in a pool of my own piss, offering myself to you like some lovesick whore, ashamed and dirty and afraid of what I have done to us, to you, the only human in this life who has ever loved me.

And all I have done is lie to you for it I have never protected you. I have hoarded you, kept you caged and away from life so you could never belong to anyone but me, a slave to my weakness and damage, my desperate need to keep you for my own because of my own broken ability to relate with the members of my own species, unless I'm taking my clothes off.

I'm plain. I'm weird. I'm awkward. No one has ever wanted me for anything but my holes, no one but you. You don't care that I wear ridiculous half-inch thick goggles, that you have to be on top of me to carry on a conversation in a normal tone. You don't even notice the speech impediment that makes everyone else painfully uncomfortable whenever I open my fat mouth. You are so special, so beautiful. My perfect, perfect boy. All I ever wanted was for you to want to be close to me the way I wanted to be close to you. You hardly left the cradle of my arms as a baby. We held hands and walked through the mountains when you were a small boy. We sat side by side on the couch watching corny romcoms when you got older. You were inside me for 9 months 18 years ago. Now you're a man, and I want you inside me again.

"I'm going to take a shower. Clean up your mess and think about what the fuck you did..."

Your words bring me out my head and back to the unthinkable shame of a mother's ultimate sin. And yet, all I can do is stare at your beautiful lolling cock and tight young sack, your bare, rock-hard ass as you turn and walk away. I lick my lips, swallow, ache, your voice playing over in my feeble mind as I watch the blur of your chiseled half-naked for disappear through the kitchen door. "I want you to tell me why the fuck you let this happen. It's something that never can be changed."

God, were you bold and commanding, in a way I've never seen you before. A shiver streaks my spine, inspired by the timbre in your voice, a tone to which I have been well-programmed to respond.

Clasping my fingers behind my neck, I spread my knees, my thick haunches strained and bulging as I bend forward to lick the pool of my body waste from the floor.

I'd been there many times before. I'd always been a bed wetter, but after 1000 cocks, two childbirths and too many abortions to remember, I peed myself when the wind blowed. Sometimes I think it was performance. Sometimes I think I humiliated myself in front of them because I knew they liked it, and craved the whippings they gave me for the privilege of pleasing them. I knew they liked hearing my guttural, brain-damaged screaming too. They didn't need to train me for that though. I'm a born pleaser, and back then, back there, I'd do anything to please.

My thighs are cramping but I'm finished. I relax, straighten and swallow, the dusky-salty-acidic taste of dirt and eau de Jo lingering in my mouth. My face is smeared with filth and my nipples sting from dragging urine-wet hardwood. My heart thuds with the dread of what's coming. I know why it happened, why I did it, but I can't tell you that. I have never lied to you and I'm not about to start, but you can't know.

It's cool in here to my naked body as I pad across the living room floor to the bathroom door. It's open a crack and I can hear the shower and the beautiful man who is my son moving around under the water. My heart pounds. I almost walk away. I'm anything but a strong or willful woman, but a pang strikes me in my belly and something draws me through the door, to you.

The bathroom is small, drab and tubless, with a simple vanity and sink along one wall and a shower and toilet in opposite corners. The shower door is one of those diveted glass jobs that blurs everything behind it like skin on network TV. My nipples harden and chill bumps bead my skin as I watch your masculine form moving behind the translucent barrier between us. Removing my glasses and setting them on the countertop, I take a deep breath, open the door and step in...

 

[apom]

You face the jet of the shower and I stare at you through the steam. My vision is dim and I see without detail, but this close, your back is broad and rippling, tapering to a narrow waist and hips and a tight, shapely butt that I can barely keep my hands from. I gulp a mouthful of saliva and close the door gently behind me.

I like my showers long and hot. I know you do too, thankfully one of the few things you got from me, a love we shared, showering together when you were a small boy as mothers and children often do.

Life changes though. Innocence slips away and we lose the best part of our humanity into the sad greed of awareness. I miss the unconditional adoration, the love in your eyes. Your total dependence. I'd been denying time and change for way too long, but this night you've forced me to realize that all of what was is gone, eroded away by my selfish manipulation, and the last thread of innocent love left between us destroyed by my final violation.

I fight the tears welling in my eyes and the desire burning inside me. I lay a hand at your hip and you turn without surprise. You knew I was here, that I would come to you. And here I am.

You stand motionless with your hands at your sides and look down at me with unreadable eyes. I'm trembling, afraid, but I step to you and reach up to lay my hands on your chest, hot water cascading down over us. My heart pounds with the fear of what I'm about to say. Breath barely comes. My voice is a whisper. "My love," I say in my brainless, garbled tongue, "I have been a horrible mother, hurt you badly for a very long time." Your face doesn't change. I swallow, my gaze falling to the floor. "I just love you so much, and..."

You take my face in your large, powerful hand squeezing my mouth into a painful pucker and shutting me down. Your voice cuts the steam like ice, "Shut the fuck up," you hiss.

My eyes fly open. My body shakes, mind numb with shock. "Wwwwh...," I gurgle.

My hands fall limply away as you raise my face and jerk my head back so I'm looking straight into your eyes, your fingers digging into my cheeks, lifting me to my toes. "Shut the fuck up, I said." You snarl, pausing a second to make sure I understand.

I whimper my submission. You're hurting me, in more ways than than I can count, and while life has built me for taking hate by this kind of violence, coming from you... My heart breaks. I bawl helplessly, but in my head I know I deserve this and everything else you have to unload.

Your hand relaxes. Blood rushes back into my face like an army of pissed off ants and my legs buckle, dropping me to my knees. And before I can think you're standing so close that your jutting cock brushes my lips. My heart leaps. My body tingles. I LIKE you this way, finally taking charge, taking ME, becoming the man I couldn't see for 18 years I was teaching you to be.

My lips part. I lean in. But before I can take you into my mouth my head is being jerked back and I'm slammed back against the the unforgiving tiled wall of the stall, all the breath knocked out of my lungs. I look up at you, my body heaving for air. And you smile. You hold up one finger and shake your head slowly side to side, then turning away from me, lean on your elbows against the wall and widen your stance, bending your legs a little to spread your cheeks in front of my face. "Eat, BITCH," you growl.

I am stunned, still breathless but unable to stop smiling and too excited to contain myself. Eagerly I bow my and push up on my haunches, opening you with both hands and pressing my face into your crack. I feel you squirm as my tongue extends, touches you with little flicks at first, then licking, then lapping your whole length with my slick, hot muscle, happily cleaning you with the touch of a mother's care and the suddenly unshackled hunger of a starving lover. I love you, but you're typical male, my son. You need your mother to clean you.

The tip of my tongue circles the star of your anus, my excitement apparent as I explore the secret textures of your most private orifice, smiling against you as your sphincter contracts protectively and you groan.

I tease, dipping quickly into your hole, then penetrating you slowly to my tongue's length, long and slippery and warm inside you. You laughed as a child when I made that goofy face and showed you how mommy could pick her nose, how long mommy's silly tongue was. You used to tease me, "cow mommy!" you'd giggle. And you were right. I'm certainly a cow. But you aren't giggling about mommy's long tongue anymore.

I release your ass and slide my hands around your thighs to their fronts, pulling you onto my face and curling between your legs to cup your tender sack. I squeeze to the limit of discomfort and then beyond in a split second of searing pain, then knead lovingly to soothe your ache and complete an exquisite conflict of intense agony and relief that pushes you just to the edge of explosion. The heat of my breath bathes you, my face bumping your bottom as I fuck your rectum with my tongue, slipping out through your flexing sphincter and then plunging deep into you again, and again and again and again, stroking your bowels with what feels like a foot of slick velvety meat.

You groan. Your hips buck futilely each time my mouth and hands bring you to the verge of climax. I can feel your frustration, the intensity of your fury building as I promise and deny, Lucy pulling the football over and over, Charlie brown. I know what I have coming, but I also know this is what you want, You want we to tease. You want me to push. You want me to give you reasons, broach the edge, breech the line. I know because I've been here a hundred times. I know, even though you don't. Yet.

Like a lot of things, I don't like how it feels doing this, but I'm a born pleaser and craven little whore, and I know how to become what you need me to be, even though I also know what it's going to cost me. But I've tormented you enough for now.

I take your erect cock in one hand and jerk until you gasp and shoot your thick load all over the floor. I actually hate handjobs though. Sperm belongs inside me, and as I do, I move quickly around you to lick up the mess I've made.

I finish and look up at you from my knees. I don't know when you turned the water off but your body is dry, and oh so luscious. I know what I want but I can't tell about you. You just stare down at me silently like you want or expect something, but I can't read you anymore. Do you have another one in you, four in one night? You're 18 and I have other, aching holes.

I tear my eyes away from yours and turn around, dropping to my elbows with my face in the floor and my huge ass in the air, parting my knees and spreading my crack wide open for business.

 

[Rocket1010]

I stand under the hot spray of the shower, confused .... surprised ..... and intrigued. Who the hell is this person who claims to be my mom? This is not the person I have known all my life. The one who nurtured me to be the man I am. I don't know what came over me in the kitchen. It was a mistake, an error in judgement, a moment of sexual weakness. I told her I was sorry but was I? The thrill of her lips wrapped around my cock still lingered in my brain.

But even though the thrill of ejaculating into her mouth was amazing, the anger still lingered in me. It was starting to diminish, replaced with a desire to know more about my mom's fetishes. The hot water spray is flowing over my face as contemplate what has happened and what will happen next. I wonder if you'll come into the shower with me or will you revert to the woman who I have known all my life, strict and ready to admonish me for not having better control over my sexual urges. Would she join me. And if she does do I resist the temptation to do something else with her? As I think about these things, I can't help but be amazed the way you readily became submissive. Waiting to see if you, my mother, were going to join me, I realize the woman who was strict and controlling of my life, no longer exists in this household.

Showing me the submissive side of you is a huge revelation and I wonder how long you've been planning to show your true colors. Were you just waiting for me to take charge? To show you that I am a grown man and can handle knowing that my mother wants to be dominated and loved.

I am still thinking about what happened in the kitchen when I feel your presence in the shower stall. I don't turn around but feel your hand on my and hip and that is when I turn to face you. I stand motionless, my hands at my sides, staring down at you. I see your hands reach up and start to caress my chest, hearing your whisper, "My love ...... I have been a horrible mother, hurt you badly for a very long time." I am at a loss for words and hear your soft voice, "I just love you so much, and..."

Anger wells up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. I hesitate a moment, thoughts that this is wrong slam around in my head. But I cut you off abruptly and grab your cheeks in my strong powerful hand. I see fear rear up in your eyes as I hiss, "Shut the fuck up." When I see your lips open, wanting to say something, I squeeze your cheeks harder and growl, "Shut the fuck up."

My grip relaxes on your cheeks, seeing you slump down onto the wet shower floor. My semi-hard cock brushes against your lips but the fury raging inside me denies you the pleasure of taking my cock between your lips. . An image from a porn movie enters my mind and suddenly a burst of energy snaps to attention inside me, making me feel very dominant. I am surprised by my own actions as I push your head against the steamy tiled wall and wave my finger while slowly shaking my head. Turning my back to you, I lean forward and call out in a rough growling tone, "Eat, BITCH!!!!"

What the hell am I doing telling my mother to eat my ass. I stand, waiting for you to either scream at me or follow orders. I feel a wild sensation course through me and squirm when I feel your tongue sliding over my ass cheeks. I let out a moan when I feel your hands spread my ass cheeks and your tongue makes contact with my anal opening. What the fuck am I doing, forcing my mother to fuck my ass with her tongue? But I can't deny the intense feeling of domination I feel knowing my own mother is enjoying dipping her tongue into my anus.

What amazes me is not that you want to do this sexual act with me but how seasoned and experienced you seem to be at being a good submissive. Then I remember all those times when I was young and made fun of your long tongue. I am not making fun of it now. No, that long muscle is now making me squirm as it dips deep inside me like a small cock.

When you continue to bury your tongue deep inside my ass and then reach around to fondle my balls and cock, I close my eyes and give into the pleasure. I am still in awe of how long your tongue is as it plunges relentlessly back and forth deep inside my ass. The added attention to my cock with your hands is like icing on the cake as your hands make my semi-hard cock begin to stand at attention.

My hips begin to buck back and forth, enjoying the new sensations that have swept over me. The urge to explode begins to take control but you seem to know when to back off and when to attack. How many men and maybe even women have you done this simple but erotic sexual act with. My mind is filled with hot erotic images but I can't deny that I am ready to again give up my seed to you. Your expert fingers and mouth have me on the edge and I want to turn around and plant my cock deep into your mouth and shoot another load down your throat. But when I start to turn, I feel your grip on my thighs tighten and know you want to finish what you've started.

Gasping for breath in the steamy shower, I feel my cock begin to throb. And when you poke your long cock-like tongue deep into my ass and stroke my cock faster, I can't deny what is about to happen. My body jerks with pleasure and my breathing hitches as I watch my cock shoot long streams of cum onto the shower floor. I'm stunned again when you move quickly as if you've done this many times in the past, cleaning up the mess with your mouth. You finish and then look up at me with an expectant stare. What is it you want?

There is a silence in the small shower stall when I see you turn your back to me, dropping down until your elbows are resting on the wet floor. I see your legs spread wide open and I have a feeling I know what you want. You want me to get hard again and then take one or both of your holes. I chuckle and step around you and open the shower door. "Stay where you are cunt," I say as I step out of shower.

I leave the bathroom with conflicting thoughts flashing through my brain like a run-away train unable to stop. What a night this has been. First with Sally and then in the kitchen watching my mother suck my cock. And now in the shower where she eagerly tongue fucked my ass while jerking me off. Images of porn flicks run through my mind like a kaleidoscope of sexual pleasures. What should I do with my mother? I feel ashamed but at the same time excited. I know it's wrong to have these sexual feelings about my own mom, but I can't seem to stop them. Instead of the images diminishing in my head, the erotic images are getting clearer. I now realize that all these years she was coddling and protecting me was because she wanted to be close to me as a mother but also as lover.

Not sure what my next move should be, I walk into the kitchen, seeing my clothes on the floor. I pull the belt from the pants loops and walk back to the bathroom with a wide smile on my face. I see you are still kneeling in the shower and smile when you look up at me for a moment before lowering your head again. "That's a good bitch," I say slapping the belt, which I have doubled up, onto my palm.

"Get out of the shower," I demand and when you begin to stand, I slap the leather belt on your ass, hearing you moan. "I didn't tell you to stand cunt. You are to crawl to the living room and be quick about it." To show you I mean business, I slap your ass hard with the belt and hear the sound bounce off the wall of the small room and your moan.

"That's a good bitch," I say watching you begin your trek to the living room. As you crawl, I keep you moving by slapping the belt on your back and then your ass. "You've been a bad cunt," I say hitting you again. "You didn't ask permission to fuck my ass with your long snake-like tongue." Another slap on your back and ass. "And made me shoot my load without asking permission if it was ok to make your master cum."

The word "master" made me stop for a moment. Was I really her master? I'm her son and while sons are supposed to be obedient to their parents, did the roles suddenly become reversed? If I truly was her sexual master, there was so much to learn about being in charge of her sex life. I slapped your ass extra hard, hearing not a moan but a painful grunt. "Keep crawling cunt," I demand, hitting your ass three more times.

When you reach the doorway to the living area, I scan the room and see the overstuffed chair in the corner. "Stay here cunt until you are given permission." You look up for only a moment and I see two things in your eyes .... fear and excitement. I walk to the overstuffed chair and sit, slapping the belt against the palm of my hand. I take in the sight of you on all fours in the doorway. Your tits are handing down like utters on a cow waiting to be milked and your head hanging down.

I slide the belt over my thighs and feel nervous. Was this really happening? Was I becoming bolder and more confident? Was this what my mother was grooming me for? Whatever the reason, I felt emboldened and called out. "Crawl here slowly. I want to watch you come to me and when you get here you may start by cleaning and sucking my toes before you are allowed to move further up my legs." I slap the belt on my palm and add. "And if you do a good job pleasing your master, I just might give you the pleasure of feeling my cock inside your holes."

There it was again, that word master. I sit .... waiting expectantly for you to begin your slow journey across the living room to your son.

 

[apom]

Shocked by your sudden command of me and what has just happened, I rest on my knees and elbows on the damp tile, pressing my ass into the air and spreading myself in offering.

Oh god.

I have always been a good mother to you, right? I have kept you close. I have shielded you from harm and heartbreak. I have taught you the ethics of work and discipline. And I know I was strict, my love, that I forbid you things other mothers handed their children every day. I just never wanted anything but the best for you.

My mind whirs.

But I nurtured you to manhood as only a mother, as only I could, and now... Now I want something else.

The taste of your rectum lingers in my mouth, tinged with the salty-sweet of cum and the filthy grunge of the shower floor. I swallow. I feel familiar, polluted, and the shadow of you looming silently behind, above me, the anger and confusion in you that I have created.

I'm so sorry, my son, for all of it, but I'm here now to show you I'm changing. Things can be different. We can be different. I'm yours, all of me. Please, just touch me. Take me. Do, say anything.

I lift my hips. Spread my knees wider 4across the still damp tile. A whimper wavers pathetically from my throat. I'm begging, can't you see?

I can't blame you though, my beautiful boy. I'm not a pretty young thing like you and that girl you fuck, and I'm angry at me too, confused and groping for an answer myself. Do I even still have the right to call you son? How must you be looking at me now, down here like you've never seen me before, down where I belong, a well-used slut on all-fours and begging like a bitch in heat, the strong, proud and devoted lioness who gave you life and has loved you with a ferocity no other can match now broken and needy and eager to serve, the same nameless piece of meat that I am and have been to countless anonymous men before?

"Stay where you are, cunt."

The answer is swift and blunt, like a boot in the gut, doubling me over and knocking the air out of my body. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes and I try to say something but no words come. I lift my hands to hold you but fall on my face, clutching air as your blurry naked figure slips away through the door.

Cool air streams in through the gap between door and wall and over my damp, bare body. I shiver. Cunt... The word rings in my head, strange but exciting falling from your lips, a familiar name from another time and another life, to which my fractured mind has been conditioned to respond.

My pulse quickens at the sound of your approaching footfalls, the newly dominating power of your presence engulfing me as you step in through the shower door. I know better but I look up, an explosion of arousal rippling through me at the sight of the brief curve of your lips and the look that soon replaces it, a look I know as well as I know straps of leather like the one in your hands. My gaze leaves your face and falls to the floor, my body trembling in anticipation of what is to come.

I clench at the sound of your voice and the sudden crack of the belt behind me, a trail of urine leaking and running down the inside of my leg. "That's a good bitch," you say, the sternness with which you command me sending shivers down my spine.

"Get out of the shower," you demand, the slap of the belt heating my cheeks as I begin to obey, the sharp sting of leather on my bottom evoking a moan low in my chest. "I didn't tell you to stand cunt. You are to crawl to the living room and be quick about it." I suppress a squeal, sucking air in through my teeth as a harder lash stings my ass, the sound of leather on skin sudden and sharp bouncing off the shower walls.

Mmmmm. I swallow, hard. You mean business.

My head hangs down between my shoulders as I do as I've been commanded, crawling like the little animal that I am, out of the shower and across the cold tile of the bathroom floor. My knees are already hurting by the time I get to the door but whacks across my butt and back urge me forward. This is something i'm used to, though. A few swats with a belt are nothing. And I scrub floors and toilets for a living and am too blind to see the dirt if I'm on my feet, so mops and brushes are out for me. Instead, I spend 10 hours a day on all-fours with a rag in my hand and my face in the filth. I'm used to that too. I'm not good at much, even sex, but I do my best work on my hands and knees.

"You've been a bad cunt..."

A sharp whack across my ass.

"You didn't ask permission..."

Leather lashes my already punished flesh, your words fading into the pain of the belt, the excitement of the sting now setting into the familiar steady burn of a whipping. I stifle the wail building in my chest and blink back tears that rim my lower eyelids as much from the incredible well of emotion swelling inside me as the pain inflicting my body.

"...make your master cum..."

My master. I stop, frozen by a word I've heard a thousand times from a thousand mouths. But, never yours. You are my son!

"Keep crawling cunt," you growl, hitting me three more times, and I swiftly obey, crawling across the bedroom floor toward the door opening to the rest of the house.

What are you seeing, my...master. A mother? A whore? A slave? Are you looking at my body, my curves? Do you like the way my bottom wags as I crawl, the sway of my breasts, the thick, hairy slabs of my labia gaping around the sloppy cavern of my cunt? Do you notice the welts scarring my back and ribs, the three dark rings tattooed around the bullseye of my asshole or the inky black paw print inside the curve at the back of my thigh? What are you thinking? Feeling? You used to tell me everything, and even as a young boy were never shy to ask me about my body. God I want you to talk to me now, to ask, and at the same time I am terrified that you will.

"Stay here cunt until you are given permission."

I freeze obediently in the doorway and watch the blur of your naked figure as you walk across the living room, and sit facing me in the overstuffed chair in the room's opposite corner. You say something but you're too far away for me to hear anything but a cadence of syllables, your head a smear of skin and hair so even if I were wearing my glasses I would't be able to tell you have lips, much less read them. You have lived with me and dealt with my hearing loss all of your life, so I can only think that you're doing this on purpose. Do you want me to fail? Do you want reasons to punish me? Mmm. Yes, please.

Guessing that I have your permission, I take a deep breath and begin a slow slinky crawl across the floor toward you, my thighs thick and taut like the haunches of some obscene animal, my pendulous breasts swaying beneath me like the udders of a grazing cow as I put one hand and one knee in front of the other, my fat engorged nipples dragging the hardwood each time I reach forward for the floor. I look up for a second as I approach, seeking instruction, the conflicting combination of fear and excitement evident in my eyes. You just sit, still, silent and waiting, the weight of your expectation heavy in the air.

I can't read your face but I know the proper manner for a slave to greet its new master for the first time, how to demonstrate my subjugation and my appreciation for the privilege of being allowed to serve you.

Squatting on the balls of my feet, I spread my knees in display to you what is yours, and go to work, leaning forward and bowing my head over one of the feet propped on the ottoman in front of me. My mouth envelops your big toe in its silky heat, suckling lightly then moving to the next, cleaning in between with my tongue as I go. I finish off the first foot by licking its sole clean with the flat of my tongue and swallowing a mouthful of filth, then moving on to service your other foot.

I'm about halfway finished when a clock on the wall chimes. It's five AM, and I don't work until tonight but I have a date with a government shrink in two hours and I'm going to be in some trouble with my parole officer if I blow off another session. Another part of my life you can never know.

I finish my job and pause. The bus stop is an hour walk, and if I'm going to make it I have got to clean myself up and go. Now. Oh, what a pickle have I gotten myself into. If I had any self-control, any decency, I wouldn't be naked and displaying myself in front of my son. You would be asleep in your bed, dreaming of a hot night with a pretty girl and believing my lie, that I'm leaving this morning to interview for yet another job. My secrets would be safe. You'd still be my boy and I'd still be your mom.

I glance up at you, groping your body with my eyes, your chiseled chest and abdomen, the pretty sack bulging between your legs and your huge uncut cock, hard and jutting back against the firm flat of your belly. My mouth waters. I lick my lips. There's never been anything decent about me and there's no controlling this fire burning inside me now.

I push damp hair away from my face and clasp my fingers behind my neck, squatting and presenting my body as I've been taught, my sloppy hole dripping onto the floor beneath me as I not so patiently await my next instruction.

 

[Rocket1010]

I sit in the overstuffed leather chair, my feet resting on the leather otterman watching you. You are on your knees and appear to be hesitant as to what I have commanded you to do .... crawl to me. Then you begin your trek across the living room floor, slowly moving closer to me.

I stroke my cock, making sure it will stay nice and hard as I watch your pendulous breasts sway back and forth with each crawling step. You have been given instructions as to what you are to do when you arrive and I smile thinking how your lips and mouth will start by sucking my toes.

I love the feel of your mouth and tongue as you begin your task. The way you perform your given command is commendable. I notice you take your time, makng sure that each toe is serviced properly before moving onto the next toe. I smile and moan when you finish one foor with a nice swipe of your tongue along the sole of my foot.

You look at me for approval and I only nod my head as there is no need for me to say anything at this point. If you're looking for praise you are not going to get it until you have completed your assignment. I notice you look at the clock on the wall when you are half-way done with my other foot. "Do you have someplace to be slut," I say with a twinge of anger in my voice.

"No .... no Master," I hear you say but can see something in your eyes that you're telling my a lie.

I stroke my cock, making sure you can see what I'm doing. You know something will happen with my cock but you don't know what. I snear, "Well that's good cunt because we are not done yet."

I see some nervousness in your eyes and wonder where you need to go or who you have to see. Whatever it is you need to do, it can wait until we are done playing. You opened this can of worms and I have found a certain thrill in my new found domination of you. All those years I slunk in the background not wanting to be seen or heard. But now that your secret desire is out I plan to exploit it as much as I can.

I see you push some damp strands of hair off your face, wondering what you are doing. I grin when you squat before me as if I were a King and clasp your fingers behind your neck. It's clear you have done this before and I wonder how man men or women have you pleased when I was sleeping or away with friends. Did you bring them home? Or did you meet them in some squalid tavern or seedy motel? Or did you service them in some dark damp alley? Where and when did my mother become a whore?

I slap the belt on my thigh with one hand while continuing to stroke my cock with the other. What to do with you now? I get up and stand before you, my cock waving in the air and I see your eyes glistening as you watch it sway back and forth. I tap the belt in my palm as I begin to circle you and see your head turn as if to follow me. "Keep your eyes front and center if you know what's good for you."

I see your tattoos and the marks on your back and wonder how you got the scars. Were the men or women not kind to you but punished you for not following their orders. When I return to stand in front of you, I move closer, letting the tip of my cock dangle just out of reach of your lips.

"You want my cock again don't you slut?" I say as I brush the tip over your lips. "Do you think you deserve to have my cock again so soon?" I hear your soft "yes." as you look at it.

I chuckle as I place the belt behind your neck and over your hands. "Keep your hands on your neck cunt," I laugh pulling your head toward my cock with the belt. "open your slutty mouth mom and taste your son's cock that is all yours."

I pull on the belt forcing my cock deep into your mouth, holding it so you can back off. I keep my cock deep into your mouth and throat until I feel you start to squirm. You need to breathe and so I loosen my hold letting you pull your head back until you can get some air. But as soon as you do, I pull on the belt, forcing my cock back down your throat. Back and forth my hips rock, feeling my own orgasm start to build up inside me.

I look at the clock and it's 5:30 am and I am getting tired. It's been a long night and I thrust one last time, feeling my explosion deep in your throat and hear your gagging and choking. I keep my cock buried in your mouth until I completely empty my load and then pull back, seeing some of my cum dripping onto your breasts.

"Clean me up and then yourself and come to bed. You need your rest and so do I." I walk toward my bedroom without looking back knowing you will be following me.

 

[apom]

I pose before you, not gracefully but with practiced and deliberate tension, like a pale, fleshy frog squatting with heels raised and toes folded against the floor, thighs parted wide and knees splayed outward to display my holes, the fat cheeks of my ass spread and thick labia parting to expose my crack and wet, gaping cunt for your inspection. My arms are raised over my head, fingers interlaced behind my neck and elbows extended out and back, lifting and separating my breasts as much as 10-pound bags of flesh can lift and separate, obese and ponderous and stretching away from my armpits under their significant weight, like gigantic, bloated and blue-veined skin balloons filled with fat, inverted and distending heavily downward between my splayed haunches to my crotch.

My body quivers with the strain of holding the pose, the muscles of my calves and thighs taut and bulging, my toes numb and the arches of my feet burning from the stress of supporting my entire weight. My face sweats with effort, belying the chill bumps beading my skin and long, thick engorged nipples jutting straight down like the teats of a cow overdue for milking.

I flinch at the sudden SMACK of the belt on your bare thigh and watch with hungry eyes as you handle your organ, foreskin peeling back with each slow stroke to reveal a swollen purple head slick with mucous. I lick my lips.

You stand and my heart leaps with excitement, my mouth filling with saliva at the sight of the belt in your hands and your hardened cock bobbing in front of my face. My lips part in anticipation, but you are a cruel tease, my son, stepping aside and walking around me, slapping the belt as you go. I turn my head excitedly to see what you're doing.

"Keep your eyes front and center if you know what's good for you."

What's good for me...

My head snaps back around and my face flushes with guilty embarrassment, and I notice you pausing at my back, can feel your eyes roving my body. What are you looking at, my master? What are you thinking? Do you like what you see? I've caught you looking at that girl more than once, seen the lust in your eyes and the bulge in your pants. And I understand but I would kill or die for you to just once look at me that way.

Now you're standing in front of me and your pants would certainly be bulging if you were wearing any, but the expression on your face is anything but lusty. You look angry as you step closer, your cock dangling just outside the reach of my open and eager mouth. The tingle in my belly and the goo dripping from my aching twat say I like you angry too.

"You want my cock again don't you slut?" you say, brushing the tip over my parted lips. "Do you think you deserve to have my cock again so soon?"

I lick my lips again, eyes fixed on the large erection a scant inch from entering my mouth. "Yes," I whisper breathily.

I glance curiously up at you as you chuckle and loop the belt behind my head. "Keep your hands on your neck cunt," you laugh, my pulse quickening as you pull the belt...

"...open your slutty mouth mom...

I am helpless to resist as you pull my head forward and my mouth onto your cock, my lips parting over your girth as it glides deep into my throat. You stop. 30 seconds pass, a minute. I squirm as my lungs begin to burn and you loosen your hold for me to pull my head back and get a breath, but as soon as I do you jerk my head forward and thrust your hips, plunging your cock into my esophagus once again.

I struggle to keep my balance and my fingers clasped as you ride my face, but you hold me upright with the belt and, well, this is not my first rodeo. Tears smear my cheeks, slobber stringing from the corners of my mouth and down my chin, my head bobbing furiously as you yank the belt and thrust your hips, slamming your pole into my face deeper, faster, harder, until with one last violent thrust you explode. I gag, chocking on the cock buried in me as you empty yourself down my throat.

You pull back, dripping cum onto my tits, and I duck instinctively, expecting a fist or the back of your hand but it never comes. "Clean me up and then yourself and come to bed. You need your rest and so do I." And with that you turn and walk into your bedroom.

I rest on my knees watching you go. My breathing slows, and after a minute I follow. In the bedroom you're sitting on the edge of the bed thumbing away at your phone. I approach quietly, the look of surprise on your face precious as I slide the device from your fingers, take your hand and tugging you to your feet, lead you to the shower like I did when you were a little boy.

It was eight years ago the last time I bathed you. Do you even remember? You had just turned 10, you were a "big boy now," and "Big boys don't take showers with their mommies, OR suck milk like babies!" I had fed you from my breasts from the day you were born, until three days after your 10th birthday, building a bond that only a mother and child could share. I knew the day would come when you wouldn't want that from me anymore, and was always busting with pride for the young man you were becoming, but my heart broke that day.

I turn on the shower, hot like we like it, and pull you to me, pressing my breasts to your midriff, water cascading over us as I hold you in close embrace. You just stand and let me do my thing, and I get it. You are my master. I am your possession. I have my instructions and I am living to serve you now instead of nurture and protect. We are growing together, right? Much more to each other than we used to be? I can't tell if you love me anymore like a son loves his mother and I'm drawn to you in other ways now, and may spread my legs for you and suck your cock, but I still love you like a mother loves her son and I'm going to mother you all I can.

My breasts always hurt a little and I start getting headaches about this time every month when my hormones crank up, which I guess kind of explains my behavior. I get as horny as a 10-peckered dog when I'm ovulating, something I usually manage to control like a semi-responsible adult. Not tonight.

I relax my arms and lean away, running my hands down your sides and around to your bottom, dropping flicks of my tongue down your body as I kneel and pick a sponge and a cake of soap up off the floor. Starting at your feet I begin your bath, washing you gently up your leg, your midriff and chest, urging you around and washing your back, your genitals and your crack. I rinse the sponge out and put it with the soap on a shelf, and pouring a handful of shampoo, stand on my tiptoes and lovingly work the soap into your scalp and over your face, and direct you with my hands to rinse under the jetting shower head. You don't complain like you did when you were younger, but I see it in your expression and have to grin. My heart leaps. My boy IS still in there!

You nod and pat me on the head. "Good girl," you say, opening the door and stepping out.

I quickly wash my hair and my body and turn the water off. I don't want to keep you waiting. You are gone when I emerge from the shower and towel off, glancing in the mirror on the way out the door. Yep, still ugly. You are waiting for me on the bed as I enter, but you look more like you want to sleep than fool around anymore. "I REALLY need to brush my teeth I say grinning, and not pausing for a response, breeze on out the door.

I did really did need to brush my teeth, a couple times, and grab my glasses from the vanity, but now there is something else I must do. It's 6:00 as I drop a nightshirt over my body, put on my specs and sit down at my desk, flipping up the lid of my laptop and opening the email app. Atlee.... Atlee... Atlee... Jane Atlee. There you are. I click COMPOSE...

 

[apom]

Hi, Jane! I'm really, really sorry but I'm not going to be able to make my counseling session at 7. We had a family emergency this morning and I just don't have time to get there. Would it be possible for me to go in later today or reschedule for later this week? PLEASE don't report me! This really couldn't be helped!

Thanks!

-jo

I'm about to close the computer and scamper back to you when another email catches my eye. A lump swells in my throat and I sit for a minute, my heart pounding, the cursor sitting atop DELETE and my finger poised over the mouse button. What the fucking FUCK?

I open the email, from JacksterX, no subject and nothing in the email body but an attached video. My hand trembles. I click.

A grainy scene opens with a young woman, late teens or early 20's, on her knees in the center of an antiseptic white-tiled room with a few metal chairs sitting around, her arms lifted straight up and back and tied with rope tightly and closely together behind her head. The points of her elbows stick up above the top of her head, bent sharply with her forearms and wrists tied downward in between so that her palms lie flat against her back just below the nape of her neck and the pads of her fingertips just touch her shoulder blades. A black leather blindfold enwraps her face. Pale gray numbers in the bottom-right corner of the screen read: 09.29.2007 01:37:33.

She's alone for about 30 seconds before a line of figures in ski masks, 20 of them, files in and encircles the girl. One of them approaches her and takes her face roughly in one hand and lifts her chin. He pulls her lower lip down and bends close. "7976428," he says. "And 'V.'"

"Did you say 'V,' as in 'Victor?'" asks a voice from somewhere in the circle.

"Yeah, 'V,' as in fucking 'Victor.'"

"Interesting."

"Get on with it," pipes in another voice. "We have a schedule to keep."

The figure shrugs and releases the woman's face. "Stand," he says gruffly, the group of them watching silently by as she struggles to her feet. She is short and large breasted with a slender torso, wide hips and long legs for her height. Raised arms pull her body taut, skin sliding over the ridges of her ribs and the flat of her sunken belly as she breathes.

He says, "Open," and the girl stands silently for a second. "Wh...," she finally says in a small, guttural voice, but is cut off by a slap across the face that knocks her head sideways.

"Nobody told you to say anything." A chorus of chuckles erupts around the room. "Now, open."

The girl is sobbing now as she opens her mouth, her effort met with another slap across the face. "Stupid cunt," spits the man and kicks her feet part. "Squat," he commands. "You do piss don't you?" And at last understanding she bends her knees and opens herself, exposing her glistening cunt for all of them to see.

The man nods, as if she can see him, pulls on a pair of gloves and walks a slow circle around her, inspecting, running his hands over her body, under her arms, down her sides, squeezing her breasts and butt like he's testing fruit for ripeness and not-so carefully prodding her belly. He feels between her parted legs and inspects with a flashlight, then inserts three of his fat fingers first into her vagina, then her rectum, then her throat, counting, 1... 2... 3... until she gags. And seeming satisfied he walks back and takes a place in the circle. "Next," he says.

I try to hold it together as the rest of the men take their turns and complete the process, but the girl is sobbing uncontrollably and can barely stand by the time they're done, and I'm sobbing too. I push the space bar to stop the video while I go grab some tissues and wipe my face, then sit back down and continue watching.

A masked man is standing in front of her now. They haven't bothered to tell her she can close her legs and sit down, and her head hangs tiredly. The man snaps on what looks like a small audio recorder and sits on a chair beside her.

"What is your name, girl."

"N..Natasha," she stammers brokenly.

"Age?"

"I think 19."

"You are here voluntarily, are you not? You haven't been kidnapped. You willingly and with full cognizance signed a a document agreeing to our terms, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"No one held a gun to your head. No one threatened you otherwise. You know why you're here and what's going on. You WANTED this interview, correct?

"Yes, Sir." She answers tiredly.

The man turns to his colleagues. "It's had its shots?"

"Yes," someone says.

"Then lets proceed."

The video cuts to black and ends.

I hear something behind me and clap the computer shut, turn to look at the door. "John?" I call softly. There's no answer and no one there but my heart is thumping like a jackhammer, my head is swimming and I can barely breathe.

1... 2...

I try to relax.

3... 4...

It's just anxiety, Jo...

5... 6...

Breathe... Breathe...

7... 8... 9...

I'm still panting but I can stand up now...

10...

Coming down...

I change my sweaty t-shirt and take a deep breath, and gathering myself, quietly walk the 10 feet to your bedroom. Good. You are on your side facing away from me, breathing evenly. Carefully I slip under the covers and snuggle up to your back. It's 7:15 am and I don't have to be at work for another 14'ish hours, but I really could use a solid 10 hours of sleep. "Good night, my master," I whisper softly, kissing your shoulder. I drift off to sleep. 9 pm will be coming way too early.