Jason stirred in the dark, a wet, slippery sound tugging him from sleep. His eyes fluttered open, groggy, the room still cloaked in pre-dawn shadow. The noise—sloppy, rhythmic—grew clearer, and a warm, slick sensation pulsed around his groin. He glanced down, heart lurching.
Jenny knelt between his legs, her lips wrapped tight around his dick, sucking him off with slow, deliberate greed. Her office clothes clung to her—tight skirt hiked up, shirt unbuttoned low, cleavage spilling out as she bobbed her head.
His erection glistened in the faint moonlight, coated in her spit, disappearing into her mouth inch by inch. She slurped noisily, tongue swirling over the tip, then plunging down to take him whole, her throat flexing as she gagged softly but didn't stop.
Shock froze him, but the pleasure—fuck, the pleasure—kept him silent. Her lips stretched around him, slick and hot, sucking with a hunger that made his toes curl. Strands of her hair brushed his thighs, tickling his skin as she worked, her cheeks hollowing with each pull.
He stared, transfixed by the view: her tits swaying in the half-open shirt, the wet sheen on her chin, the muffled gluck-gluck of her throat swallowing him down. "You like this?" she mumbled, voice thick, popping off just long enough to meet his eyes.
"Very much," he rasped, voice hoarse, hips twitching involuntarily toward her mouth.
Jenny grinned, a wicked flash of teeth, then dove back in. She engulfed him fully, lips sealing around the base, tongue flattening against his shaft as she sucked harder. The wet heat of her mouth was relentless—slurping, smacking, drool spilling down his balls as she bobbed faster.
Her hand gripped his thigh, nails digging in, while the other cupped him, rolling his sack gently as she devoured him. The sound was obscene, echoing in the quiet room, a filthy symphony of spit and suction that had him teetering on the edge.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
Jason's head snapped up, panic spiking—until he saw his mother step in. She smiled, unfazed, her purple nightgown swaying as she approached. The fabric was sheer, embroidered with patterns mirroring Jenny's panties, clinging to her MILF curves—full breasts, wide hips, a body that screamed experience.
"Having fun without me?" she teased, voice low and playful, climbing onto the bed beside Jenny.
"Mom?" Jason and Jenny said in unison, stunned. Jenny froze, his dick still in her mouth, spit dripping from her lips as she glanced up.
Their mother didn't flinch, just settled in, her eyes locked on Jason's throbbing length, gleaming with her daughter's saliva. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate, watching it twitch under Jenny's paused grip. The air thickened, charged, as the two women flanked him—one still tasting him, the other waiting her turn.
Their mother nudged Jenny aside with a gentle but firm push, her hand darting to Jason's slick, throbbing dick. Her fingers curled around it, warm and possessive, and she didn't hesitate.
She leaned in, tongue flicking out to tease the swollen tip, tracing slow, agonizing circles around the head. Jason groaned, hips jerking as she smirked up at him, then pressed a soft, wet kiss to the shaft.
Without warning, she opened her mouth wide and swallowed him whole, lips stretching as she took him deep. Her head bobbed, up and down, gagging noisily as spit dribbled down her chin, her throat tightening around him with each sloppy thrust. The sound was raw—wet glucks and choked gasps—her eyes watering but never breaking from his.
Jenny shoved her back, impatient. "My turn," she growled, reclaiming his dick with a hungry slurp. Her mouth was relentless, gobbling him up, tongue swirling as she sucked harder, drool pooling at the base.
Their mother huffed, running her hands through her hair with a sharp tug. "You slutty brat," she muttered, voice dripping with amusement. She stood, moving behind Jenny, and yanked her skirt up, exposing her ass.
A sharp crack rang out as she spanked her, then hooked her fingers into the purple panties and ripped them down. Squatting low, she buried her face between Jenny's thighs, tongue plunging into her pussy, lapping at her folds with wet, greedy strokes. "You like it?" she mumbled against her.
Jenny moaned, loud and broken, still sucking Jason. "Keep doing that, Mom." Her hips rocked back, chasing the sensation.
A minute later, their mother pulled back, wiping her mouth, and delivered another stinging spank. "You're ready now. Get up and sit on his dick."
Jenny nodded, dazed, climbing to her feet on the bed. She stepped forward, still in her rumpled office clothes—shirt half-off, skirt bunched around her waist—and squatted over Jason's pulsing erection. Her thighs trembled as she lowered herself, his tip brushing her wet entrance, ready to take her brother inside her.
At the same time, their mother moved, straddling Jason's head, her purple nightgown hiked up to reveal her glistening slit. "While she fucks you, you make me ready to fuck you," she purred, lowering herself toward his face.
Jenny smirked down at him, a manic giggle bubbling out. "Looks like you're finally getting some game, like your girlfriend over there." She jerked her head toward the corner.
Jason's eyes darted over, and the room dimmed. A silhouette emerged—Ariana, straddling a man in a chair, her hips rolling as she rode him, moans spilling from her lips.
The sight gutted him.
Jenny and his mother's giggles echoed, sharp and mocking, as the shadows swallowed the scene.
Then—snap—he jolted awake, chest heaving, sheets tangled around his legs.
The room glowed faintly, the rising sun's light seeping through the curtains, casting soft streaks across the floor. Jason blinked, the haze of sleep peeling away. Jenny lay sprawled on her bed, still in her purple bra and panties from last night, chest rising and falling in deep, oblivious slumber.
The threesome—wild and twisted—had been a dream. Ariana riding some faceless guy, her betrayal cutting him open—that was a dream too. His mind had churned up a storm, stitching together yesterday's chaos: Jenny's taunts about Ariana cheating, the pent-up heat from yesterday's encounters.
He buried his face in his hands, the images—Jenny's mouth, his mother's tongue, Ariana's betrayal—burning behind his eyes, leaving him hard, shaken, and alone.
He sighed, rubbing his face, glancing at his sister's sleeping form. She looked peaceful, not the smirking provocateur of his nightmare. He left her there, untouched, and rolled out of bed.
He slipped into his routine—push-ups in the dining-kitchen area, sweat beading as he counted reps. His phone buzzed mid-set: Ariana's good morning text, a simple Hey babe, hope ur day's good. No hint of deceit, just her usual warmth.
He typed back, Morning, miss u, and meant it. The dream's sting faded a little. Shower, clothes, and he was out the door—Saturday meant the early shift at the store, and with Ayana on deck, maybe it wouldn't suck.
His mother was already up, back in her loose traditional clothes, stirring something on the stove. She nodded at him, no trace of the nightgown-clad seductress from his head. "Breakfast's ready," she said, voice flat. He grabbed a bite, the normalcy grounding him, then headed out.