Give Mommy all that hot, thick cum, sweetheart!" Mom panted desperately, madly throwing her breasts into one another. The clapping was so loud that I feared the neighbours would come knocking to complain about the studio audience giving her a standing ovation.
I had an idea, and hoped Mom would catch on without having it explained to her. I grabbed the bottle of lube and aimed it at her boobs, squirting a long, continuous stream of oil onto them.
Mom squealed with glee as soon as the liquid hit her skin. "Oh! Oh, good boy! Shoot your babies all over Mommy's tits!"
The sound of her slapping skin was a lecherous symphony. Oil soaked her until she shone like a brilliant jewel, and then, with no friction left to defy gravity, the remainder dribbled from the crack at the bottom of her cleavage. Those drippings landed on her belly, where they trickled down and soaked into the top of her underwear.
"Drain those fucking balls for Mommy. You're doing such a good job, honey." Mom's voice hit a pitch I had never heard from her before. She was elated, captivated with the world of make-believe that the blindfold permitted her to live in. The camera did not capture the huge, cheesy grin on Mom's face, the appearance of which told me that she was truly immersed in the roleplay, but I got to see it in all its glory.
The final dribbles of oil fell from the bottle, but Mom continued to pontificate about how heavy, soft, and wet her tits were for several more minutes. I dutifully captured every frame, and ended the recording when she drew a heart in the oil over her chest and thanked her viewers for watching.
"And... cut!" I announced. "That was great, Mom!"
She tore off the blindfold, blinking hard a few times to adjust to the light blasting her in the eyes. "I tried my best. It was a lot easier with the blindfold on. I just shut my eyes and said whatever came to mind!"
I raised an eyebrow and pointed to her tits, where her hands were rhythmically tapping out a beat. She apparently hadn't noticed. "I thought you didn't play with your tits, Mom?"
She rolled her eyes with a cheeky grin. Her fingers tap danced across her supple, silken skin, making it clear that she did not mind being called out. Most of her attention was focused on something else, though. "It's so exciting knowing that someone is going to pay for that -- and it was so easy to make! I wonder how much we'll get."
"Whatever they pay," I told her, "you will be worth every penny." By the look on her face, she was finally starting to believe that. Gone were the retorts where she called herself an "old bag of bones." She was finally beginning to accept the truth that I had known all along: she was beautiful.
Mom pawed at her oily breasts. "We should not have done this so early in the morning. I have to take a shower now!"
"It's just baby oil."
Mom stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at me. "Well, I'm not a baby. I'm going to get cleaned up." She left the kitchen, heading towards her bedroom.
I leaned against the counter on my elbows, holding the camera screen inches away from my face. I was so enraptured with reliving the memory that I did not hear Mom's footsteps return to the hallway.
When she cleared her throat at the threshold to the kitchen, it snapped me out of my haze.
"See something you like?"
I fumbled the camera, lucky as all hell to keep it from flying out of my hands. "O-oh, Mom! I didn't see you there."
Mom snickered with her hands on her hips. "Apparently not. Did you hear me, at least?"
I shook my head.
"I asked if you were going to join me."
I gawked like a fool. "In... in... in..."
"In the shower, yes! Jeez, honey. You look like you saw a ghost!" I will never know how much of her teasing was accidental, and how much was for her own amusement.
I had never known Mom to be such a ruthless tormentor. That side of her, I was discovering, had a tendency to twist the knife as long as it entertained her.
She slunk out of sight. Her fingers clung to the corner of the wall, lingering for an extra second before they, too, vanished. I followed the aromatic trail of her perfume the bathroom, where the shower was already running.
Mom ran her hand under the stream of water to make sure it was warm enough. "Are they even going to hear me over the shower? It's so loud!"
I told her I would mute the video when I edited it, and would find a sexy song to put over the recording. I was already thinking that I'd chop up and edit the video into a montage of quick cuts and short, perfect moments, which would save me the trouble of having to find a consistent mix for all those pesky background noises.
Mom scrunched her nose like a squirrel, tugging on the waistband of her underwear. "I just realized I'm going to have to take these off."
"Not if it makes you uncomfortable. I can shoot above your waist." I really, really did not want to have to do that, but if it meant that I got to see Mom's boobs smothered in soapy water, I deemed it was an acceptable sacrifice.
Mom rocked back and forth on her heels. "No, no it's okay. I want to do it. Can you be honest with me, though?"
"Of course."
Mom looked down at the floor, her shoulders bunched up around her ears like a scarf. "It is, like, weird if I have hair down there?"
I hung the camera from my neck and stepped in close to put my hands on her shoulders. "Not at all, Mom."
Mom blushed a rich, decadent hue. "It's just that... well, I was looking at some of the really popular accounts online last night and none of them had-- uh, what I have."
Her underwear was tiny, but tried though I did, I could not find a single stray hair poking out.
"I want you to just be honest with me," Mom demanded. "I used to shave it, but that was a long time ago. Now I just, um..."
"Trim the hedges?" I offered, eliciting a short, ugly snort from Mom.
She covered her mouth and turned away from me. "Oh, gosh, honey. You got me, okay? Your mother trims her pussy!"
The vulgarity of the word hit me like a freight train, buckling my knees. I replayed the sound of Mom's sweet, innocent voice pushing it from her lips. She reminded me once more to be honest with my review, insisting that I hold nothing back, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband.
Mom made eye contact with me and drew a deep breath, nodding a couple times to coach herself through whatever internal monologue was motivating her. "Okay," she sighed. "Here goes nothing."
She pulled down her underwear, revealing a hastily manicured patch of dark pubic hair in the shape of an upside down triangle. The bottom corner sat directly above the bulge of her pussy, its tip like an arrow guiding my eyes towards the swell of her swollen lips.
Mom's pussy, which would be invariably classified as an innie, was as neat and tidy as the fluffy, tousled carpet perched above it. It looked like a cream-coloured clam that was split down the middle by a shallow, pink crease. For anyone to have seen the succulent flesh between her curtains, Mom would have had to manually spread apart her pudgy petals. I was not yet ready to ask her for something so depraved. Instead, I refocused on the object of her discontent - but I could find no fault there. The patch of brown fuzz covering the entirety of her chubby mound was a perfect crown atop a pussy that deserved to be treated like royalty.
"How does it look?" she asked after a few agonizing seconds of silence. We stared down at the soft, chocolate rug, though only one of us was fighting the urge to dive in face first.
"It looks way more than just trimmed!"
She blushed. "I mean, I did trim it into shape last night, but only the edges. Just in case, you know?"
"I'm dead serious, Mom; it looks amazing. You clearly take care of yourself, and it shows. Honestly, I find this look way sexier than a shaved woman. A lot of other guys do, too." All of that was true; she just needed to believe it.
Mom, in all her stark naked glory, looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes fluttered to her breasts, her stomach, her neck, her pussy-- everywhere one might be critical of themselves. I do not know what she saw, but to me she was a being of pure radiance.
Mom caught my stare in the reflection, and instantly averted her eyes. It was only for a second, but that was plenty of time for her to notice the stiff tent in my shorts vying for her attention.
Her eyes went wide as saucers, but she did not comment. Had she not bitten her tongue, her boastful grin would have spread from ear to ear.
"Okay, I think we should start now," I coaxed.
I told her of the plan to edit the video into snippets and combine them into a montage. I figured that it would help her stay in character, much as the tea towel had done. "Just be yourself, okay?"
Mom straightened her back. "Ready when you are."
I pointed the camera at her and gave her the green light.
As Mom began to sway side to side, I could practically hear the background music playing in my head. Her hands were on her waist, accentuating the slow, circular motions of her hips as she rotated them. She placed her hands behind her, cradling her plump ass cheeks, and pushed her hips forward. Her pussy came closer to the camera, presenting itself as the object of focus. I zoomed in to get a better view.
As soon as the camera focused and caught a fleeting glimpse of Mom's chubby lips, the rotation of her hips pulled it away. She maintained those long, methodical circles a number of times, each pass bringing her vulva close to the lens. It was a tantalizing tease, and I found myself leaning in to get a better look each time she thrust forward.
Mom placed her hands flat against her thighs, forming her thumbs and pointer fingers into a pair of "L"s that flanked her pubic hair on either side, framing the chestnut fur between her outstretched fingers. Then, slowly, she brought her hands together until the space between them was completely filled in--eclipsing her vulva behind her closed fingers.
Mom's hands functioned like a thong, glued between her legs to obscure any hint of her nudity. Then, she raised her hands like curtains at the start of a play, gradually revealing one inch at a time.
Her fingers trudged through her fur, tangling themselves within the heap of wiry velvet. She tugged gingerly at the bush, combing her fingers through the fine hairs to tease them into looking even fluffier.
Mom tilted her head at me like a curious puppy. "Do you want to film my bum?"
The answer was a conclusive "Duh!"
Mom was surprised at the certainty of my answer. "Your dad always said it was too big for his liking. Didn't fit my body type, apparently."
My cheeks puffed up from holding back a laugh. "Trust me, he was wrong!"
Mom excitedly clapped her hands together, offering a jubilant cheer. "Yay! Oh, good. I saw some poses that other girls were doing online, and I want to try them, too."
She faced away from me and put her feet together-- a trained soldier standing at attention. Then she interlocked her fingers on the back of her head, accenting her slender shoulders. She arched one of her feet at a ninety-degree angle, like she was wearing a massive stiletto, while the other foot stayed flat on the floor. The pose had the effect of making one of her cheeks bulge out without making the other one look like it had grown any smaller. It was a dizzying optical illusion that I could have stared at all day.
Mom peered over her shoulder and winked at me again, asking me how she looked. I was too dumbfounded to respond intelligently, but my stupefied stare was exactly what she was looking for.
"Look!" she touted proudly. "I can do both sides!" She shifted her weight back and forth between her feet, switching which one was arched and which one was flat. The exercise made her huge, curvy cheeks grind against each other like she was trying to start a fire between them.
I gulped nervously. "Can you, uh..."
"Just say it, honey," Mom encouraged warmly.
"Spank yourself?"
Before the word had fully left my mouth, Mom brought her hand down on her backside without a care for the mark it would leave behind. Her palm swatted her backside with a lurid thwack, making her booty wobble as the energy dissipated through her loose skin. It jiggled from the force of the concussive blast with ripples the size of telephone cables reverberating through her cheeks.
The outline of her fingers was instantly branded into her once-immaculate skin, and started to raise slightly as the blood rushed to it. Within seconds, she was branded with a red handprint that glowed brightly against the backdrop of her pale bottom.
It was at that moment that I realized I had been holding my breath. "Holy shit. That was amazing!"
"Should I do it again? Or..." Mom peered over her shoulder again, a wistful gleam in her eye. "Do you want to try?"
I gasped. "Are you serious?"
Mom shrugged, bending over to stick out her ass. "Sure, honey. It's just my bum, after all." She braced herself against the opposite wall, swaying side to side. "But, do the other side, please. The left one is already starting to sting."
"I can... can I really do this?" Even in my dreams it was never so easy.
Mom shook her bottom back and forth. "Not if you make me beg! Hurry up, before I change my mind."
I tried to keep her gigantic ass in frame, but the closer I got with the camera, the more difficult that became. I leaned back as far as I could to make distance between us, and lightly swatted her with my free hand.
Mom bounced on her toes a couple of times. "Harder than that, honey."
I was seduced by the clapping of her cheeks, ready to follow any command she gave me. I was also determined to show her that I was capable of being the other half of our newly formed dynamic duo. If she wanted a man to spank her, I would be that man.
I put the camera down on the counter, centering her in the frame. Without telling her of my plan, I knelt down next to her so that my face was level with her reddened left cheek.
Mom peered at me under her arm with a confused look. "Oh, um... hello down there. Are you still filming?"
"It's on the counter."
"Okay, I guess," Mom murmured with an anxious squirm. "Just don't do it too--"
THWACK!
"--hard!" Mom squealed in pain. "Ow, honey!"
I instinctively cupped the pink, wounded flesh in my palm, grazing my fingertips over the pink handprint as it began to rise. I dug in to her right cheek, gently jiggling the mountain with a firm grip. "Sorry, Mom. I didn't think it would be that hard."
While I waited for the outline of my own hand to appear on Mom's skin, the fiery brand that she had burned into her left cheek stared me in the face, longing for a soothing kiss to calm its singed surface. With a metric tonne of ass shaking whipping me up into a frenzy, I was unable to halt the impulse.
I brought my lips down in the center of the print that Mom had left behind. I nipped gingerly at her tepid skin, sucking the plumpness into my mouth. Once I realized what I was doing, I decided to make the most out of what might have been my only trip to the buffet. I opened my mouth wide and let my tongue hang out. I sucked a greedy mouthful of Mom's cheek into my open maw, biting into her like a ripe, succulent peach. My tongue dragged over her skin, desperate to taste her on every one of my taste buds.
"Honey, I-I don't-- oooohhh, God..." Mom trailed off, unwilling to put a firm end to my exploration.
In that brief window, I tucked my thumb into the fissure between her cheeks and pulled the right one open. For one short, passing moment I was inundated by a scent so rich and so intoxicating that no one could have mistaken it for anything else; my mother's pussy was soaking wet.
The realization struck us both at the same time, with very different results. I could not - I would not -stop my tongue from dashing loose and making its way towards the honey-soaked trench, desperately seeking the source of the aroma that had so thoroughly entranced me.
Mom, on the other hand, recoiled before my tongue could find a home between her cheeks. She straightened her back and whipped around in an instant, pushing her spine against the wall like she was trying to blend into the wallpaper.
Wide-eyed terror gripped her in its vicious claws; if she could've backed herself up through the shower wall, she would have. "What the hell are you doing, Eric?"
I had no response. I had gotten carried away, but that was no excuse. Mom looked hurt; I had broken her trust, and I feared that what goodwill I had earned may have been swept away by one stupid, reckless decision.
Mom gulped, and presented her case as a matter of fact. "I probably shouldn't have asked you to spank me. That was wrong, and I'm sorry."
"Mom, I--"
"I think..." She held up a hand to silence me. "... if you leave the camera on the counter I can finish the video myself."
My eyebrows shot through the ceiling. "You're still going to do the video?"
Mom shrugged, looking down at her feet solemnly. "We need the money, so... yeah."
I apologized again, and again, and again, but Mom could not bring herself to look at me. I could not blame her one bit. I left the bathroom with a heavy heart, dragging my feet behind me just in case she changed her mind and called me back. She didn't. When I closed the door behind me there was nothing left to say but "Fuck."
I took the walk of shame back to my bedroom. I cursed under my breath, scolding myself for being so careless with her trust.
The shower stopped about ten minutes later, and a few minutes after that I heard a timid knock on my bedroom door. Mom entered without waiting for a response, dressed in nothing but a towel. She held my camera in her outstretched hand.
She smiled weakly. "I think I did a good job. But, do you think that we could take a break for a while? We filmed a lot today. Maybe you can roll it out slowly over the next week or so?"
"Yes! Yes, of course, Mom. Anything you want."
She turned to leave, but something turned her around again. "Actually, do you have a second?" She came back in and sat on the foot of my bed.
"Sure, what's up?" I leaned against my dresser with my arms crossed, even though that symbolic shield was not going to protect me. Mom patted the bed for me to sit down next to her, and scooted in close as soon as I did.
Mom put her hand in mine. "I think today was a lot. I don't blame you for what happened. At the end of the day, we're just two horny people. Sometimes, horny people make brash decisions."
"I didn't mean to start kissing you like that. I just got carried away, is all."
"Shh, it's okay. I'm not mad." She laid her head on my shoulder. "Given the circumstances, I think what you did was natural. If we do this again, though, you have to promise me you'll behave. No more surprises -- not without talking about it first."
"I promise!" I spat the words out like they were poisoning me.
We agreed that, given what had transpired, it was best to take a break and let things cool off. It had been Mom's idea, obviously, but I was willing to go along with anything that would lead to me seeing her naked again. I believed that we had moved too fast for her and, while she did not seem specifically turned off by what we had done, reality had come crashing in with more force than she'd been ready for.
That night, I watched the footage of her in the shower for longer than I had any of the other videos. I could pretend it was for editing purposes, but really, there was something extra perverse about watching a recording that I hadn't taken myself.
It felt like the video had been made privately -- for my eyes only. Every second was a piece of art, and I pored over each frame with a hungry, lustful gaze. I soaked in every visible shred of my mother's body like it was the last thing I would ever see before I went blind.thought I had thrown off her mojo, but the woman in the shower was as naturally sexy as she had ever been. Mom had effortlessly slipped back into her on-camera persona once I'd left the room. With the exception of the flat camera angle, the video was perfect.
In it, she lathered soap into her dense, tidy bush, creating a frothy bikini that obscured her nudity. I enticed myself with the challenge of trying to catch a glimpse of the brown fur poking out from its nest of foam, but it became exceedingly difficult with each generous coating of suds. She stepped into the water and washed away the bubbles, revealing one glorious piece of her nakedness at a time. The anticipation made the show stretch on for hours - or, you know, I spent literal hours watching the same footage over and over again. One of those.
By the time I'd finished editing, I had every pixel of the recording memorized. The concept of seeing Mom with clothes on became a foreign one. The image of her in my head became one of complete vulnerability, and I wondered if I had done irreversible damage to my psyche by staring at the video for so long - and at the worst possible time, because we'd just agreed to take a break. I didn't think it would help anything if I began treating her like a MILF, with heavy emphasis on that second letter.
With that in mind, I rushed through the remainder of the process; I created as much content out of the videos as I could, and figured we could coast for a little over a week with what we had, or maybe two. If I set up a schedule, the videos would go live without me even having to touch them. For a little while, we could get back to being a normal mother and son.
That was the plan, anyway.
CHAPTER 2
It took a couple of days for the incident to blow over. At first, Mom and I tread lightly around each other. There were no hurt feelings, but the supercharged emotions in the bathroom had put her in a state of caution. I certainly understood why.
I obsessively read through the comments every day. Subscriptions poured in overnight, and I had the bright idea to upload half of the shower scene as "bonus content" for viewers who were willing to pay extra. Nearly every single member paid for the bonus content, and most of them had incredibly glowing things to say about my mother.
I parsed through them, selected the ones that I knew she would appreciate, and saved them to my phone in case she ever asked about the reception. I hadn't expected that that day would come anytime soon, but the fact that it did indicated that Mom was having a similar difficulty moving on.
After nearly two days without mentioning the subject, Mom finally cracked at the dinner table and asked, "Are the videos doing well?" She did not even look up from her bowl of soup.
"The... ah, yes, the videos." I'd known that the moment was coming, but that did not stop my pulse from racing as soon as she'd broached the topic. "People really seem to like them."
Mom blew on a steaming spoonful of soup with a cheeky grin. "Really? How much?"
"I think we're past a hundred subscribers by now." I explained the bonus content to her, and how many people had paid for it.
Mom struggled to wrap her head around such a large number, but was more than happy with the results. "So, they're already paying to see me, but they paid extra for that video? This is why you do all the internet stuff."
Her sincere praise would fuel me for the following two weeks, throughout the rollout of new content that had people chomping at the bit. Every couple of days, I uploaded a new photo or a new clip to keep people entertained. Eventually, as I expected, the well ran dry and her fans cried out for new scenes.
There was one last video in the vault, and after it went live we would be fresh out of content to feed the insatiable masses. I was not sure if it was the right time to approach Mom about creating more, but, I figured it was a conversation we were going to have eventually anyway.
She had her feet in my lap one night, watching yet another gripping episode of The Bachelor, when I subtly brought it up. I laid out the predicament without being too pushy. I explained that the archives were empty, and we needed to make more if we wanted to keep going. Without even taking her eyes off the screen, Mom signed up.
I required a double confirmation before I felt safe pitching ideas for new scenes. "You don't mind? If it's too soon, just tell me."
Mom shot me a look of confusion. "Of course I want to make more! This is the best I've felt about myself in years. Why would I give that up?"
"I just thought you might be getting cold feet?" I hated playing devil's advocate against my own cause. "After what happened in the bathroom last time--"
"I understand," Mom said, cutting me off abruptly, "but I processed it. I think I may have overreacted a little. Can we just agree: no more surprises?"
I humbly agreed.
She used her toes to point at my phone on the armrest of the couch, eager to brush past the hiccup. "Did we get any new comments?"
"Yeah, a couple." I pulled up the curated collection and handed her my phone. The pure joy that spread across her face was serotonin for my soul.
She swiped through the extensive list, growing more jubilant with every scroll. "So, the money is good?"
"The money is... pretty good, yeah."
That was technically true, but we needed it to be great. To pay for school, we needed to pull in a whole slew of new subscribers, and ideally get most of them to pay even more money. That didn't just mean putting out content more frequently. It meant escalating. Food, rent, and other necessities would always come first, but we - I - needed more. I didn't know if Mom was ready for that, but I knew that I was on a deadline.
Until then, I thought it best to let her adjust to a daily life of naked photography without such a burden hanging overhead. We spent the rest of the month producing photos and videos that were similarly provocative to our old stuff. It was all nudity, but compared to what other creators were making, it was actually quite tame.
The shoots were mostly just her playing with her breasts in different locations, wearing different outfits, and using different "dressings." We had her garden in the nude, do naked yoga in the sun, cover her boobs in honey and chocolate sauce (a fan request), and even go in the park when we were sure nobody was around. There were also many, many more videos of her showering - so many that we found it pertinent to invest in a waterproof camera so we could get some truly unique angles.
After the incident in the bathroom, Mom imposed a hard limit on me physically touching her, as though she were afraid that giving me an inch would undoubtedly lead to me taking a mile. The rules were simple; if she said no, it meant no. To me, that sounded like permission to ask every once in a while. My insistence paid off eventually, when she finally allowed me to oil her shoulders and back before a shoot in a new bikini.
Each time she allowed me to touch her, I pushed the envelope a little further. I explored her body like I was drawing a map of the new world. I was never permitted to touch the places that I truly sought, but told myself that every advancement in our complex relationship was worth savouring.
Over time, the stigma of my hands on her body became something we cared about less and less. Our operation functioned like a business, and with that casually physical relationship came diminished resistance when I would occasionally test her limits.
The month ended, leaving us with a sizable portion of dedicated followers that rabidly devoured every video we posted. Even the extra content for VIP members saw strong traction. We were doing well, but not well enough. All we had done was prolong the inevitable; I was still going to have to drop out by the end of the semester.
I was too embarrassed to ask anything more of Mom. She had given me so much, and I feared that the revelation that it hadn't been enough would hit her hard.. I wasn't even sure what I would ask of her, were I to muster the courage to do so. She had already said no to putting her pussy on camera for a second time, so our options were limited.
The night when we finally tallied up the math was a somber one.
Mom paced the floor of the living room, biting her cuticles in frustration. "We need to do more. If we just keep making the same old stuff, we'll keep making the same old money."
I took an intentionally long swig from my beer, letting her marinate on the thought. "What are you suggesting?"
"Well... we could do something in public again? Maybe more risqué?"
I raised an eyebrow. "More risqué? As in, your pussy?"
Mom rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen. She reappeared with a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, their etchings a reminder of the vacation she and Dad had taken to Monaco for their honeymoon.
Mom poured two shots, though mine was decidedly larger than hers. "We need to think, which means we need to drink." We clinked the glasses and threw the putrid gasoline down our throats.
"I think--" I coughed on the vile liquid still clinging to my throat. "Oh, God, that burns. I think that I've done my share of thinking. What do you think, Mom?"
Mom gave me an intimidating stare. "I already told you what I think about putting my vagina on camera again. Do you need a reminder?"
I held up my hands defensively. "I'm just putting it out there."
"Why don't you expose yourself, huh? Put yourself in my shoes and see how you like it."
I shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
The liquor had gone to my head faster than I'd expected. Mom thought I was kidding, but I doubled down on the bargain just to show her how serious I was. I was certain that she would never take me up on it.
"I appreciate the solidarity, honey, but nobody is going to pay to see your penis." Mom gasped when she realized what she'd just said. "Oh, no! Not like that! I just mean that they're subscribing for me. I don't think they want to see a naked man, you know?"
"No offence taken -- and you're right; they won't pay to see my dick... but they will pay to watch you stroking it."
Mom buckled over with laughter. Once she had wiped the tears from her eyes, she poured us another helping of vodka. "Good one, honey." She held up the shot glass. When I did not reach for mine, she looked up quizzically. The look in my eyes told her right away how serious I was. Her demeanour changed in an instant. "Eric, are you being serious?"
"Listen, I'm not over here begging you to jerk me off, but, if you want results, this is how we get them."
I lamented on the oversaturation of the market -- how so many women were posting solo content that it made it hard to stand out amongst all the noise. We had a foothold, but needed to catapult it into something bigger.
I admitted to the direct messages that I had kept hidden. In part, I had wanted to shield Mom from their vulgarity, But there'd been something else that had set them apart from the ones I'd first revealed. Every single on of them had requested the same thing.
They were far from poetic, but their message was clear: people were willing to pay big money to see Mom get physical, but that was a hurdle she had not even considered crossing.
I fed the synopsis to her speechless stare. "They just want to see you do stuff with a guy."
"Which guy?" Mom blurted out.
"I don't think they care."
She cradled her arms to her chest and plopped down on the sofa next to me. "Well, I do care! I don't want to look for some random guy with a random dick for me to start jerking, or sucking, whatever."
I gave her a cheesy grin, but she still was not buying it. "Then it's a good thing you don't have to look very far." When she did not catch my drift, I continued. "I touch you all the time, don't I? You seem comfortable with it. In fact, you kind of seem to like it!"
Mom tensed up, curling her toes until they cracked. She was too ashamed to admit it, but her blushing told me everything I needed to know. "Massaging my shoulders and legs is not the same, honey. You know that, don't you?"
"Nobody will know!"
"I will," Mom said with a wince. "We will, honey."
I threw up my hands in defeat, unsure of how to proceed. "You're right, but we need to do something. We can't keep crossing stuff off the list without adding something to it."
Mom was quiet for a long time. The ticking of the clock overhead filled the passing seconds, but as it ticked past a full minute, I wondered if she was ever going to rouse from her self-imposed coma.
Light flashed behind her eyes, waking her from her deep, troubling daydream. With the resilience of a coal miner, Mom downed both of the shots she had poured and turned to me with renewed resolve.
Mom covered her mouth to stifle a small hiccup. "Fuck it. Let's just fucking do it."
"Wait, Mom. We don't have to--"
"Stop, stop." She recoiled in disgust, unwilling to mull it over for a second longer. The heinous double shot of vodka - combined with her acquiescence to giving her son a handjob on camera - contorted her face into a portrait of pained reluctance. "If I think about it too long, I'm going to get scared and change my mind."
"I don't want to push you into anything."
Mom stood up from the couch and smoothed down the wrinkles on the front of her skirt. "You aren't. Sitting here, just now, I accepted that I probably will have to do this with you at some point."
"But--"
Mom held up a hand, cutting me short. "I'm not going to be able to sleep right if this is on my mind. If you're able to, let's just do it tonight."
I was at a loss for words.
Mom took a deep breath, nodding softly to me while she breathed it out. After all my fantasizing, it was surreal that she had ended up being the one to talk me into having my dick stroked. "Will you get your camera, and the mineral oil, then meet me in the living room?"
My brain was running at half speed, but there was no time to update. "Get... camera... I will." I pushed through the fog and stumbled towards my bedroom.
Minutes later, I entered the empty living room. I half expected Mom to leap out from behind a curtain, revealing that it had been a prank designed to crush my dreams just moments after igniting them. Every fiber of my being was on edge waiting for her to join me. I tried to open my phone and distract myself, but my hands were shaking so badly that the fingerprint reader would not even recognize me.
Mom's dainty footsteps began their slow walk down the hallway. The long, lingering space between each step implied her hesitance. Several agonizing seconds later, she appeared in the door wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of cozy pajama shorts that hugged her ass like a second skin. She looked mousy, yet ferocious.
"Hey," she whispered, chewing on the corner of her mouth. "You ready to do this?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." I flicked on the TV, which earned me a quizzical look. "Oh, I think it's more authentic this way. It's like we were sitting around watching television and you couldn't help but, you know..."
Mom scoffed at the preposterous implication. "I just couldn't help but jerk you off, hmm?" The absurdity of the situation was inherently comical, and it broke the ice between us. "Am I, like, your wife in this scenario?"
I grinned sheepishly. "Performing your wifely duties, I guess?"
"Duties?" Mom echoed sardonically. "You know, I never did this for your father." She chuckled before clarifying. "I mean, I obviously touched it, but we never sat down for a formal hand job with oil and stuff."
I grinned from ear to ear. "Like we're about to do?"
She rolled her eyes. "Try to be a little less excited, honey. The last time I gave one of these was in high school, for crying out loud, so lower your expectations!"
"Lucky guy," I remarked, totally not the least bit jealous.
She stomped her foot. "As if! I was as nervous back then as I am now!"
I immediately felt a twinge of guilt in my heart that nipped my teasing in the bud. "If you're nervous, we don't have to do this."
She sat on the couch next to me and folded my hand in her lap. Her thumbs massaged circles into my palm. "Honey, you need to accept that there are many, many pieces of me that do not want to do any of this with you. You're my son, and it feels like we're defying some natural law by letting this thing continue, but..."
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
"... like it or not you awoke something in me." Mom nudged my shoulder with hers. "This is the most amazing I've felt about myself - and my body - in years. I'm curious, and that excites me as much as it scares me, but with you, more than any man in my life before, I want to embrace it."
I bent my neck and touched our foreheads together. "I believe you."
"I love you, Eric." Her voice was rich with sincerity.
"I love you too, Sharon." I knew that was a risky advancement, but it was a night of risks.
She shook her head in protest, but could not help from cracking a smile. "Oh, no, honey. It's always going to be 'Mommy' to you."
Icy tingles erupted from my spine, their frigid aura surging all the way to the tips of my fingers. Something deep and dark in my psyche thrived on hearing her talk like that. In that moment, I would have given her anything she'd asked for. Lucky for me, what she was in search of was already trying to burst out of the front of my shorts.
Mom focused on my erection and narrowed her eyes. "Looks like he wants to start right away. Getting hard while Mommy is right next to you? Such a naughty boy."
I grabbed the camera and held it up by my chin, trying to mimic my real life point of view so the video would look convincing. "You better start quick, before I explode in my pants!"
Mom scampered onto her knees and tucked herself between my legs with a hand on either side of my waistband. She waited for her cue, and once I gave it, she got to work.
She locked eyes with the lens, beginning a staring contest with the viewer on the other side. Her mouth was turned up in a curious half smile that grew larger as more of my crotch was revealed. When she pulled the waistband past the head of my dick, my fully formed hard-on broke free of its prison and slapped angrily against my stomach.
She gave a startled squeak, her eyes wide with shock as she gazed upon the full length - not just fully revealed, but fully erect. "You're so... hard. Is that all for me?"
I swallowed my mounting anxiety. Mom played her role expertly. Every lavish seduction she was performing for her audience was working double on me; I had never been so close to having an out of body experience.
Mom popped open the bottle of mineral oil. She held her hand flat, making a show of drizzling a long stream into her palm from a great height. The thin waterfall formed a pool in her hand; once she was satisfied with its size, she used her slippery mitt to coat the other until both were equally smothered.
She timidly wrapped one hand around the base of my cock. Her grip, firm yet tender, set off alarm bells in my brain. No matter how much her hand trembled, her fingers stayed tightly secured around me. Her fingers encircled the root, sending a rush of blood upwards that inflated the bulging helmet. It pulsed with excitement, and below it, the shaft kept growing Mom's tiny hand. Following her instincts, she closed her fist around the head and gave it a gentle squeeze.
moaned like a stuck pig. I could not help it; I melted when she touched me. Her slimy paws fondled me with unbound curiosity, venturing with no real motive or direction. It was clear that she was unsure of her abilities, but praise in the form of my incessant moaning served to bring out her confidence.
Mom tightened her grip around the head, then twisted her wrist like a corkscrew. Her movements lacked skill, but she made up for it with heartfelt enthusiasm.
I was in no mental state to offer notes, but in hindsight, Mom had a good sense of when experimentation needed to progress to something more goal-oriented. She added her other hand to the mix and formed a tunnel with her fists. Then she fed my cock through a kaleidoscope of slimy fingers in long, unbroken strokes. Each digit seemed to be guided by a mind of its own, and yet Mom's hands and elbows kept them all working to the same rhythm and towards the same end. It was a heady mixture of repetition and surprise, and all thoughts of teasing her for her inexperience melted into goo and leaked out of my ears.
Mom knew how to manipulate me by that point. Both fists plummeted to the bottom, viciously strangling the root. Just as it had before - and just as she had expected -- the bulb grew to its fullest, shining with a smear of oil so thick that she risked being blinded by the light reflecting off the smooth, glassy surface. Then she offered up yet another surprise; she pointed me towards her lips, formed her mouth into an "O," and ushered a fat gob of foamy spit into the middle of the circle. It fell from her lips and landed on the head, where it began to drip down the sides.
Before the drool had a chance to run down to her fingers, Mom used it to her advantage. With one of her hands still pinned to the base of my cock, pulling the loose skin as tight as it would go, Mom used the other to deftly smother the head in her homemade lube. Saliva squelched between her fingers, oozing through the cracks.
She worked like she was churning butter, dutifully applying her affection to the entire length with a rhythm that came all too naturally. "Is that good, honey?"
"Fuck, yes!"
"What about this?" she asked, then blew a stream of cool air over my oil-soaked dong.
Trapped in her clutches, I was forced to endure the chill blowing over my slickened skin. It made me clench up, which in turn made my dick, once again a prisoner of both of her hands, throb like it was trying to brute-force its way out.
Mom's jaw dropped open. "Whoa! Can you make him do that again?"
"This?" I clenched as hard as I could, hoping to impress her. The swelling of my cock elicited such glee that it only made her squeeze tighter.
"Oh my God! It's like he's alive!" Mom's jaw hung open; her eyes were the size of football fields. She let go with one hand so that she could trace one of the fat, blue veins that stretched from the root all the way up to the head. Her touch tickled me, prompting my cock to seize up.
I had never been so hard in my entire life; my dick was made of steel. I barely recognized it, but I was extremely familiar with the woman at the end of it, purring like a happy kitten.
She effortlessly jerked me off with one hand, which was more than enough. She did not pause, preferring to subject me to an endless onslaught of tight, slippery tugs, each of which tended to my entire length on their way down. Her long, snug stroking put to shame every single one of my sex toys, and I wondered how I would ever return to them.
Mom's free hand rested on my thigh, making a shelf upon which she could rest her head. She gazed deep into the camera and, by extension, my eyes. The way she cast her gaze upwards to meet mine, her eyes swooning with love, was the most powerful drug I had ever known.
She kissed my thigh, sucking gingerly to ensure a pink mark would be left behind. "Tell Mommy what to do next, honey."
"B-both h-h-hands," I whined desperately.
Mom lifted her head off of her arm and straightened her back. She placed both hands around the root of my cock like she was going use it to stir a gigantic pot of soup. Her hands easily glided to the head, basting every inch along the way. It became impossible to tell one hand from the other as I melted into her ministrations.
When it felt like I was about to explode, she slowed down. The piston in her hands radiated pure energy, but she knew how to handle it. Her strokes ground to halt; my cock throbbed eagerly, begging her to resume the slippery massage.
Mom pulled one of her hands off of me. She quickly slid it underneath my balls, palm facing upwards, cupping my sack. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, then made a ring around the base with her thumb and pointer finger, which held it in place at the very center of her oily hand. With her other fingers, she gingerly tickled. Electricity crackled through my skin as her nails lightly brushed over me, each one leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. My balls, and my mortal soul, were ready to dissolve in her hands-- but she had other plans.
Without relinquishing her prize, Mom closed her other oily paw around my cock head. She rotated her wrist until her thumb was in the perfect position to brush against the frenulum - which was more sensitive than it had ever been before - with every of her methodical strokes. The bridge of skin under her thumb functioned as a switch, turning me from a normal human being into a dishevelled heap of a man.
My nervous system was a switchboard, and the tingles from her touch lit up every button. Her pace was half of what it had been moments prior, but the attention to detail made everything feel so much more visceral.
"Like that, sweetheart?" Mom was hungry for approval. I was too far gone to make words, so a hearty groan had to suffice.
She left the entire shaft untouched, but I was still experiencing more pleasure than I knew what to do with. My toes curled so hard that they cracked like fireworks. The top-to-bottom service she was providing had brought me dangerously close to orgasm already. Had Mom not been so attentive to the telltale throbbing that soon followed, my orgasm would have caused the video to end much sooner. My dick, pulsating mightily, told her just how close I was to the edge.
She yanked her hands off of me, as though she had been scalded by the red hot iron, and winked to the camera. "Not yet, honey."
My heart leapt into my throat. "But--"
"No, no, no,"she sung softly, batting her eyelashes. "No buts." She held her oily hands up to the camera to show how soaked they were, then gestured down to her chest with her chin. "Help Mommy out of her t-shirt, baby."
She did not have to ask twice.
Mom held her arms straight up in the air while I bunched up the bottom of her shirt with one hand, ensuring the camera remained steady all the while. She closed her eyes, wearing a satisfied smile that persisted after I had pulled the shirt over her head.
Even in the dim light of the den, her tits were astonishing. From the couch, her position kneeling on the floor in front of me caused them to hang well past my knees. I could not see where they ended, but her perky nipples grazing against my shins revealed just how low they swung.
Using the practice she'd gained from our video in the kitchen, Mom took to oiling herself once again. She tucked her hands below her hanging breasts, coating the underside with a healthy sheen. She kneaded and squeezed the sagging udders, evenly spreading the oil around until her skin was completely saturated.
Then she lifted her tits high into the air, taking their weight into her arms. She was losing the battle against both volume and gravity, but I'll be damned if she didn't look good doing it. Supple flesh ooze through the cracks of her fingers, reminding me once again of bread dough - maybe with some olive oil? -- that I desperately wanted to eat raw. Once her breasts were in frame, lifted high above my knees, she released the burden and sent them crashing onto my legs. I heaved under their heft, crushed beneath the pressure of the overfilled water balloons.
"Are Mommy's boobs nice and warm, honey?" Mom pouted impishly.
"Fuck yes," I cried.
"Then I guess you wanna put your dick right here, don't you?" Mom paired the rhetorical question with headstrong action, already sliding me between her tits without waiting for the obvious response.
The temperature between them was unbelievable. My cock was wearing a winter coat in the middle of July. Mom pushed her boobs together, squishing them on the sides so that my shaft was smothered between the two soft, fluffy mounds.
My instincts went into overdrive and I mindlessly began thrusting my hips. It wasn't anything dramatic, but as soon as my cock was embedded in the sweltering tomb I could not avoid the desire to start humping my mother's chest.
Mom gazed down at her tits to see the engorged helmet staring back at her. "Oh, hello there."
I pushed forward, spearing my cock through the ocean of breast meat in which it drowned. Its shiny bulb gasped for air, poking through the waves momentarily before it was swallowed whole again.
Once she was sure I would not literally melt in the confines of her torrid prison, she was ready to have some fun. "You must really like it in there, huh? Can you handle it if I go a little faster?"
I could not, but I was not about to tell her that.
Mom lifted her tits into the air, pausing for a moment to let the comparatively cool air tickle the base of my shaft. Then, without warning, she flung her breasts back onto my lap and engulfed my dick in one heaving toss. The loose armful assaulted my cock on all sides, bumping and grinding against the sensitive head in a loving massage.
I thrust hard into her cleavage, meeting her breasts each time they dropped into my lap. It took a couple of awkward strokes, but we quickly found our rhythm. In just a few seconds, we were working as a team, pumping my dick between her tits like we had done it a thousand times before.
Mom looked up at me -- not at the camera, but me. The love in her eyes - not to mention the pride and the mischief -- was palpable. I could read her like a book. The moment between us was short, but I knew I would be replaying it for a lifetime. It was as though, for that brief window, Mom forgot the camera existed at all. It was just her and me, and that was just how I wanted it.
She turned her attention back to the lens, staring down the barrel with a fiery glimmer in her eye. She held steady, her head half-cocked and with a peaceful smile on her face that brought out her remarkable dimples.
"Good boy, just like that," Mom encouraged me affectionately. "Fuck Mommy's big, fat titties."
"Mom, I--"
"I know, honey," she cooed with sympathy. "I can feel him throbbing. Just keep going, honey."
"Oh, fuck. Oh my fucking god, I'm gonna cum!" Wounded soldiers on a battlefield made less horrific noises than I.
She licked her lips. "Good! Mommy wants it all over her face. Can you do that?"
Absolutely I could. In fact, I would have been completely unable to stop myself even if an armed swat team had kicked down our front door.
My balls pulled tightly to my body. A surge of euphoria blossomed in my stomach and spread through my veins at light speed, carrying endless waves of pleasure through my entire body. I had never done heroin, but could not imagine that it felt half as good cumming between my mother's fat, oily tits.
I was too far gone to aim for her face, so she took the reins. With my final, hearty bellow acting as a starter pistol, she leapt into action as soon as the shot rang out.
Mom plunged her tits into my lap one last time to allow the head of my cock, polished to a reflective gleam, to poke out from between them. The bulging crown was pointed directly at her face, inflated to a frightening size as it exploded, spewing white, bubbling-hot lava onto her face.
The first rope splattered against her forehead, landing on the canvas with an audible splatter that send several drops raining down onto her eyebrows. The first burst is always the biggest, but I don't think either of us expected a tablespoon of warm butter to be running down her cheeks from just the first shot.
The next two sticky streams were almost as big as the first. They landed on her lips, their tether unbroken as they stretched over her cheeks and began to drip down her jaw. Mom did not close her mouth, even when droplets of her son's cum began to trickle into her gaping maw. She was undeterred, but what's more, she was loving it.
One last powerful flex sent a dollop of cum directly into her left eye. She reflexively closed it with a surprised gasp, recoiling for a moment before she regained her composure. She steadied herself, holding her mouth wide open with her eyes closed - and, thanks to the last burst, with one of them pasted shut. The thick paste dripping down her forehead smeared as it drooled down the side of her nose.
The ringing in my ears subsided, but the tingles in my brain remained for another few minutes. I shut my eyes and watched a mesmerizing array of shapes and colours dance behind my eyelids. I had never experienced such untold bliss in my life, but after every orgasm comes clarity - sometimes painful.
With my senses returning, I looked down, expecting to be horrified by the sight that I knew awaited. I had just cum on my mother's face.
She was still kneeling on the floor, waiting for me to end the recording. She was basted in such an unforgivably thick layer of cum that she would have needed a window wiper to clean it all off. Streams of translucent precum ran down her face like salty tears, while the bulk of the white paste clung to her cheeks and forehead.
She was fucking beautiful.
Mom wiped a glob of cum off of the side of her lip and made a show of examining the way it drooled off of her finger. Then, with a subtle wink to the camera, she slurped it off. There was no way for anybody but us to know how truly vulgar that was.
There are very few mothers in the world that know what their son's cum tastes like. They might take a guess, but my mom no longer had to. She knew, and would remember forever, the taste of my cum melting on her taste buds before sliding down her gullet-- swallowed into the belly of the woman who should have been one lucky swimmer's grandmother.
Mom blew a kiss to the camera and held the pose for a second, waving to her audience. "Thank you for making a mess. I'll see you next time, honey."
"Okay, we're clear!" I ended the video and dropped the camera on the couch. "Wow, Mom."
I ended the recording. S broke character immediately, completely changing the atmosphere of the room when she did.
Her mouth hung open, and her fingers waded through the coating of cum seeping into her pores. "You came so much! I didn't wanna make a big thing of it for the camera, but look at this!" She wiped a finger through the glaze on her forehead, leaving an imprint in the wet cement.
I blushed, afraid I was about to expose myself as a true newbie. "Don't all guys cum that much? That's what it looks like in porn."
"Not in real life, honey. I've never seen this much. Look at my eye!" Mom tried to pry open her eyelid, but it was sincerely glued shut. One of her nostrils was clogged with a membrane of white goo. Every time she exhaled, it bubbled like a pot on a hot stove. "This is a 'get-you-pregnant' type of load."
I knew she was just mindlessly talking, but the comparison she'd chosen to draw made me instantly curious. "You think I could get you pregnant?"
"Duh! I mean, you know, if we ever..." Mom trailed off, her eyes growing wistful for half a second. She shook her head clear. "Anyway, you know what I mean! You're dangerous, mister." She pointed at my dick. "That thing is a weapon."
I took that as a compliment, and her hesitation to take her eyes off my slowly softening erection told me that she'd meant it as one.
Mom got off her knees and kissed her fingers, then transferred the kiss to my forehead. I was so enamoured with her that I would have kissed her on the mouth no matter how much cum had been dripping off of her.
She needed to get cleaned up, and we both knew a simple towel was not going to cut it. I thought about asking to take another video of her showering, but even my greed had limits. She left my sight, but as she did, I caught her reflection in the window on the other side of the room. Just before she vanished, she shoveled another dollop of chunky cum into her mouth and sucked her finger dry. That time it was not for the camera.
I raced for my bedroom as soon as I heard the lock on the bathroom door click shut. I pored over every single frame of the video as though the recipe for eternal youth was hidden among the pixels. I knew I was obsessed, and I did not care.
It struck me while watching the video just how heavily we'd leaned into the mother/son roleplay. It hadn't been intentional on my part, but I realized that the only way to edit around it was to cut the audio entirely in exchange for a musical backtrack.
I weighed the options, but ultimately decided that it was worth the risk to keep the dialogue. I already knew we could make big money off of fetish content. I just prayed nobody would ever seriously consider the possibility that "Mommy" was my actual mother.
There was not much to do in the way of editing, yet I lingered in my room, watching the playback over and over and over again. I trimmed the length to make it more concise, removing the fatty edges so the video started and ended on a dramatic note. It took less than fifteen minutes, but I was stuck in my chair watching the loop for another thirty before a knock at the door shook me from my stupor.
I cleared my throat so my voice would not crack. "Come in!"
Mom opened the door and leaned against the frame, narrowing her eyes at me without speaking a word. Her hair was tied up in a high bun, with only a few loose strands dangling in her face. She was wearing her loose-fitting t-shirt from earlier, but that was all I could see. The bottom of the shirt was just long enough to conceal her pussy, and no matter how hard I strained, I could not see even a hint of underwear. I could not tell if she was bottomless, but I hoped she was.
Mom was a smart woman; she knew what she was doing. She knew she would catch me watching our video, and had decided to add insult to injury by showing up half-naked.
"Watching anything good?" The melodic tune of her voice danced through the air.
"Uh, no?"
She pouted for a moment, briefly lapsing back into character. "You get extra 'good boy points' if you don't lie to Mommy."
I reached for my camera. "Should I be recording this, or..."
She waved me off. "No, no. I'm sorry, honey. I'm just playing around." Then, she flashed me a goofy smile. "It's really fun talking that way, though. I like how flustered you get!"
I rolled my eyes and opened my laptop with a cheeky grin. As luck would have it, the video was paused on the frame just after the first rope of cum had landed on her face.
Mom bit her lip. "She looks like she's having a really good time."
"Was she?" I asked sincerely.
"Yes, honey. She really was." Mom stepped into my room and closed the door behind her. We were the only two in the house, but the small gesture still made me feel safer.
She sat on the bed across from me with her legs crossed, begging for my eyes to venture between her legs. It was cast in shadow, and I still could not catch a glimpse of underwear. I was seconds away from pulling out the camera and using the flash to find out the truth, but Mom was an expert at distracting me.
She batted her eyelashes seductively. "Did you have fun letting Mommy tug on your big, strong penis?"
My cheeks burned a deep, fiery crimson. I buried my face in my hands, hoping to hide from the embarrassment of blushing like a schoolboy.
I dug my fingertips into my temples. "I don't know what's wrong with me. There's something sick in my brain that loves hearing you talk like that."
"I know, honey. Me too." Her admission sounded sincere, but I nevertheless found myself questioning her motivation.
"Wait, are you still trying to be sexy?" I asked, letting some of my genuine frustration slip out. "It's starting to get a little confusing. Which parts are affection? Which parts are supposed to make my dick hard?"
Mom thought for a second, pensively chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes were penetrating, looking past a cumbersome layer of hormonal excess to peer straight into my heart. She scooted closer to me on the bed and wheeled my office chair closer to her so that I was sitting between her legs. She was slightly taller than me thanks to the height of my bedframe, and used that uncommon perspective to her advantage.
She lay a hand on either side of my face and offered loving strokes to my cheekbones with her thumbs. "Listen to me, honey. This is me talking as your mother." She leaned in and pressed her forehead against mine. "Nothing will ever change how much I love you. That love is special. No matter what we do, our bond is unbreakable."
The world grew so silent that I could hear the blood moving though my veins.
"You are my entire world, Eric," she said. "I can't explain to you how deep my love runs for you. I think it scares me."
I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. "Scares you?"
"I'm scared of how strongly I feel for you. I know we've always been close, but this past month has shown me that you can be more than just my son. I want to chase it, but I'm scared it will blow up in our faces and ruin everything."
My heart was a fire alarm ringing in my ears. I did not want to go back to the way things were, but it was frightening to realize that we could not if we wanted to. "If we're being honest," I replied, "I think we're already past that point."
"Do you wish we could go back?"
"No, I don't. I like this, I love you, and I don't care what rules we have to break if it means I get to love you like this."
"In that case..." Mom slid off the edge of the bed and plopped into my lap. "... this is me coming to you as a woman."
With her legs tucked under the arms of the chair, she was in the perfect position to straddle me. I loved feeling her weight on top of me. It pinned me to my chair as her hands caressed my shoulders.
The heat radiating from her pussy was undeniable. I finally drew the conclusion that she was, to my delight, naked from the waist down. Even through my boxers, I could feel her muggy heat wafting over me. It beckoned my dick to life with nothing more than a hint of its unyielding warmth.
I grinned like a giant goofball. "I like this way."
Mom tilted her head to the side, filled with curiosity. "Oh, do you? What do you like about it?"
"I like that you're in my lap. It's kind of possessive, I guess? It feels like you're mine." I wrapped my arms around the small of her back.
She kissed my forehead. "I am, honey."
"Mom, that's--"
"I know how it sounds," she said, cutting me off defiantly. "I just mean... I'm not seeing anyone right now, and I might never bother to again -- not because of you, or your father. I'm just done with dating for a while."
I nodded along, hypnotized by the way her eyes fluttered back and forth while she processed her own musings.
"We spend all of our time together," she said. "I can tell you anything. You already make up such a huge part of my life. It's like we're--"
"Married?" I was to the one to cut her off that time. I punctuated my assertion with a quick squeeze of the bare bottom sitting in my lap.
Mom must have liked the idea, because her face broke out into a gigantic smile. "I was going to say dating, jeez!"
"Fine, then. Dating." I squeezed her cheek again, harder that time.
Mom swatted my shoulder. "Be serious! Is that too weird?"
I craned my neck to get closer to her lips, but I wanted her to make the final move. "Well, you keep calling yourself Mommy - which you never used to do - and it keeps making my dick hard."
I think she wanted to kiss me right then, but she didn't. "I need you to be honest," she said. "Can you handle this?"
"Can I handle my Mom and my girlfriend being the same person?"
Mom scrunched her nose. She picked at the graphic design on my shirt with her fingers. Softly, she whispered, "Yeah, that."
"I think it would make the happiest man in the world." I had never been in love, but I knew in my heart that it was supposed to feel a lot like what I felt every time I laid eyes upon my darling mother.
Mom gave in to her desire and finally, after eons of waiting, closed the gap between her lips and mine. She poured herself into me, and we made out like horny teenagers, sloppily pawing at each other while we traded kisses back and forth.
She dragged her teeth across my lower lip as she pulled away, nibbling gingerly before separated us. As always, she left me wanting more. The naked pussy dripping nectar into my lap was a keen reminder of just how little was stopping us from ravaging each other on the spot, but we weren't there yet.
"You're a good kisser," she panted lustfully between smooches.
"You're a better one."
"Practice makes perfect." She then turned her attention to the laptop, where her past self was still proudly sporting a face full of cum. "So, what do you do with this thing?"
I wheeled my chair, with Mom still sitting on me, over to the desk where my laptop sat. We stared in silence at the cum-soaked woman looking back at us for a few moments while I wondered the whole time what thoughts might have been spiraling through her mind.
"It's all edited," I told her. "I just have to hit the button and it'll go live."
Mom held her pointer finger in the air. "May I?"
I gestured to the enter button and gave her the helm. With a deep, dramatic breath, Mom slowly lowered her finger onto the key with the seriousness of a NASA chief about to launch a shuttle. She pressed the big red button and sent the video into orbit; the internet would do the rest.
She wiggled excitedly in my lap. "How long does it usually take?"
"I typically like to sleep on it. The notifications come overnight, so there will be a bunch to wake up to." The mention of sleep instantly brought on a sense of drowsiness. I failed to stifle a yawn, but that did not deter Mom's manic energy.
"Does nine work?"
I groaned in annoyance. "Nine in the morning?"
Her body language was enough to tell me she wasn't bluffing - and that she was going to make sure that I was awake almost as soon as she was.
Mom climbed off my lap, leaving me with a parting kiss that lingered far longer than it needed to. There was no more motherly affection, or parental pretense, to explain away our intimacy; we were enjoying it too much for that to be true. I kissed my girlfriend goodnight, and knew right away that it would take several hours for me to actually fall asleep.
Before she left, she said to make sure I was "ready for her" in the morning. She did not explain any further, so I made sure the camera was fully charged and waiting on my nightstand.
CHAPTER 3
Everything felt wrong.
The carpet under my feet was crunchy. It was dry, and cracked under my toes. The woolly fibers crumbled to sand with a single step, leaving nothing but grains in my footprint. Wind blew through the house from every direction, tossing the granules of dust into the air.
The sky outside my window was as black as night. There was no sunlight to speak of, yet my arms and legs cast long, crooked shadows on the wall behind me. They were completely unrecognizable. I raced down the hallway, chased into the darkness by a grotesque menagerie of twisted black shapes.
In the hallway, I was flanked on all sides by wooden picture frames that melted into the drywall. The photos contained within them, I did not recognize. They were all tattered and torn, fluttering pitifully in the whipping winds that blew down the narrow corridor-- seemingly from every direction at once.
In the kitchen, the ceramic tiles shattered under my feet as though they were made of glass. The fragments they left behind began to rattle, shaken by a sudden, menacing quake. My legs and feet weighed a thousand pounds; each leaden step left a deep imprint that persisted amongst a sea of shards; my blood was the glue that held their perimeter in place.
I knew that if I could just make it outside, I would be fine. I did not know where that knowledge stemmed from, but I trusted it implicitly.
I threw open the patio door and exited the house. There were no trees, no clouds, and no ground to speak of. The world around me had vanished, swallowed whole by the endless void that surrounded the house. Both it and I were suspended outside of time.
My feet did not have a chance to touch the patio; I floated free from the ground as soon as I crossed the threshold to the outside world. I threw my arms about, hoping to direct my aimless ascent, but it was fruitless. I floated above the house, its brick walls displaying the decay one would expect in an ancient tomb.
I watched the structure that I knew so well collapse in on itself. As though a black hole had opened up in the middle of our living room, our home became the very whirlwind of brick and mortar that was swallowing it up. Once it was gone, there would be nothing left.
"hOnEy?"
I scanned the blackness around me, but saw nothing.
"HoNeY?"
I saw nothing, but I felt everything -- no, not everything. I felt the only thing that mattered to me.
I felt Mom.
She snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my nightmare. "Honey!"
My eyelids snapped open like blinds. My retinas were immediately pierced by the morning sun. The world existed again. The colour, the smells, and the sounds were all back to normal. The only abnormal thing was having my mother deliver an early morning wakeup call from under the covers.
She was tucked under the sheets with me, her body resting on top of mine like a security blanket. I thought I was a light sleeper, but clearly had not stirred when she'd slipped under the covers.
I grumbled, stretching the life back into my limbs. "Where are we?"
Mom kissed my cheek. "In bed, duh. Bad dream?"
"Yeah, but it had a nice ending." I did not want to bore Mom with details, but it was safe to say that the only pleasant part about my morning thus far had been waking up to her. "I had an alarm set for nine. Are you early or something?"
Mom grinned sheepishly. "A little bit, I think."
That turned out to be the understatement of the year. I checked the time on my phone, then I cried in disbelief. "It's seven-thirty! Mom, you promised!"
She knew I would push back -- I was not traditionally keen to wake up at the crack of dawn -- but before the realization could settle in, Mom was already planting dozens of wet, tender kisses along my neck.
She donned her sweetest voice, pouring sugar over her words so they went down smoother. "Do you want Mommy to leave?" she mewled. She was intentionally blurring the line between mother and girlfriend.
As my faculties returned to me, noticed that Mom was dressed - or rather, not dressed - for the occasion.
I finally clued in to the stifling heat grinding against my thigh. I do not know how I had missed it, but the sensation of Mom's soft, fluffy pubic hair tickling my leg was suddenly all I could focus on.
"Wait, are you naked?"
Mom sported a devilish grin and signaled for me to lift the blanket off of us. "Why don't you take a look for yourself?"
I pried open the covers and craned my neck so I could see past Mom's head. I did not need the visual confirmation, but I wanted it badly. She was kind enough to turn her head to the side, giving me a glimpse of her grinding against my leg. Her legs were intertwined with mine, putting her pussy in the perfect position to rub against my bare thigh.
I was still having trouble coming to terms with reality. "You're naked."
"I'm naked, honey. You've got a naked Mommy lying on you, and there's nothing you can do about it!" She laughed like a cartoon supervillain. "Speaking of naked..."
Mom placed another loud, juicy kiss on my cheek, then scuttled under the covers, out of view. In a flash, she hooked her thumbs under my boxers and yanked them off, leaving me equally nude. "There! Isn't that better?"
Either I had woken up with morning wood, or my body was reacting instinctively to Mom's powerful aura. Her mere teasing was enough to turn cogs that had previously turned for nobody.
Mom purred happily from below the covers. "Looks like somebody else is happy to see me, too."
One finger at a time, Mom gingerly wrapped her digits around the base of my cock. I was so hard that it was glued to my stomach, but she gently pulled until it was sticking straight up in the air. If she had let go, it would have slapped against my belly again, so she was sure to keep her grip firm.
Mom tucked her other hand beneath my balls, forming a cup. Raising her hand up ever so slightly, she cradled them in her palm like they were fragile bird eggs, lightly brushing her thumb over the smooth surface. I felt secure in her hands; she knew exactly how to handle me. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she had touched me sexually for the first time, but somehow it felt natural.
A loud, bubbly gurgle told me she was gathering up a glob of spit in her mouth. With my dick pointed in the air, she dribbled it onto the tip. Using her hand, she spread it around until it evenly coated the whole head. Thanks to that thick, glossy sheen, I felt every nerve ending scream out when she blew a stream of cool air over the inflated knob.
I needed an explanation as to why my skeleton wanted to jump out of my skin. "Oh my god, that feels amazing. What are you doing?"
"Just making sure he's nice and wet before I put him in my mouth," Mom hummed without a care in the world. One might be forgiven for thinking she was discussing dinner plans, but the reality was far more vulgar.
"Before you... wait, what?"
Mom giggled from her hiding place below the duvet. "You should probably get your camera ready for this next part, honey."
I flung open the covers, stripping Mom of the one thing keeping her modest. I did not need to guess any longer; I saw for myself that she, with my dick and balls clutched in her hands, was hovering her lips a mere inch from the head of my cock. Her lips were parted so that her tongue could hang lazily from her open mouth.
She looked like a lapdog begging for a treat. "Does that look good?"
I was frozen in place. "Fucking spectacular."
"In that case: geeeet your caaaaamera oooooout." Mom sung her demand, using the head of my dick as a microphone. She was being playful, but was deadly serious about her request.
I quickly did as she bade. POV shots were easy to frame; the hard part was stopping my hands from shaking while I recorded. I turned it on and gave her the thumbs up.
Mom cooed, gently stroking my cock with her gaze transfixed on the camera lens. "Good morning, sweetheart."
"Good morning, Mommy." My heart soared as I spoke those innocuous words, knowing the true depravity of the meaning they carried.
She kissed the underside of my cock, then let her tongue flop out of her mouth. It hung down to her chin, making a runway to welcome me in. She tasted me like an ice pop, slowly letting her taste buds brush over me one at a time.
Mom licked her lips. "Mmm, salty."
"Is that bad?"
Mom thought to herself for a moment, then decided that she needed another taste to make up her mind. She dipped back down and flattened her tongue against the head, rubbing it back and forth along the bottom a couple times. "No, not bad. I kind of like it."
Mom pursed her lips to plant delicate smooches over the engorged helmet. After that, she assaulted my cock head with a barrage of sloppy kisses, each one wetter and more frantic than the last. With each kiss she delivered, she opened her mouth a little bit more, gradually parting her lips to accept more of the head into her mouth. She basted it with even more saliva in the meantime, her tongue darting out every so often to check the salinity.
Mom ushered another glob of spit to the front of her mouth and drooled it onto the head, watching with fascination as the foam dripped down the sides. The bubbles melted down the length, dripping down my shaft until they met her closed fist wrapped around the root. She squeezed tight to stop the flow of slimy goo from running any further. Once a small pool had collected at the top of her hand, she transitioned to a corkscrew motion as she lifted it towards the head. Saliva lubricated her ascent, so she easily glided up the length of my cock until the head was secured within her palm.
The bulging, pink head in her clenched fist looked like the pistil of a precious flower, with her lily-white fingers acting as the beautiful petals. With just the head sticking out of her slippery mitt, Mom brought her lips down to greet it. She pursed them against the tip, blessing the crown with a tiny kiss. Then she opened her jaw, sliding her lips over the fat bulb to swallow the whole thing at once. It remained in her mouth for only a moment -- long enough for her to timidly nurse on the puffy head a couple of times.
She released it with a plop, hardly affording me the time to relish the wet, heated den, then turned her attention elsewhere. "Your balls look awfully cold, honey."
"They do?"
Mom nodded her head in an exaggerated fashion, knowing the hint had gone over my head. "Uh-huh. Don't you think so?"
I tried my hardest to play along. "Oh, yeah. I think you're right."
"Should Mommy put them somewhere cozy to keep them warm?" She pleaded with her eyes, as though nothing in the world would make her happier in that moment than to have a pair of balls in her mouth.
"Holy fuck, yes!"
She shuffled further down the bed, granting her easier access to my balls. She used a hand to corral them, gathering both of them in her palm to tug them away from my body. Her soft, bumpy tongue lapped against the swollen eggs, tickling them with what was to come.
Mom pushed on the back of my balls with two fingers, nudging one of them forward so she could wrap her lips around it. With patient suction, she slurped on the fat plum and gently popped it inside. Her noisy suckling was silenced as soon as her lips made an airtight seal around it. She opened her mouth wide, loudly sucking in air as she used her fingers to ease my other ball into her mouth, packing it in tightly against the first. Her maw was stuffed to the brim, forcing her cheeks to puff out like a chipmunk to accommodate both of them. They fit inside, but just barely.
I had seen people undergo the "Chubby Bunny" challenge on the internet before, wherein one tried to stuff their mouth with marshmallows and try to say the titular phrase as many times as they could before their mouths were too full. I figured since Mom was halfway there already - though with a decidedly adult twist - we should have some fun with it.
"Is your mouth full, Mommy?" I teased, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.
Mom nodded happily, her throat gurgling as she fought to speak around the mass of meat. "Eh ih fuww!" Her cheerful response pushed saliva from her bulging lips; it bubbled and oozed from the corners of her mouth. Nothing she did could stop her from drooling.