“Jessica are you still waiting around for the damn truck?” my mother’s voice asked, her footsteps coming closer as she came down the pathway to the sidewalk, the front door banging against its frame when she was only a few yards away. Today was the day that I was moving into my mother’s house after being evicted from my apartment for late payments and I was not amused, not even encroaching on the fact that my mother and I had had sex only 4 days ago. After she had left me in a bliss-induced black out, she had left me on the bed with a kiss to my temple, our efforts to pack all of my things completely abandoned for only myself to finish.
I sighed and shielded my eyes from the sun. “Yeah,” I told her. The moving truck was only 5 minutes late, but my mother had been asking about its arrival all day from the time she had gotten up. Needless to say, exasperation was the perfect label for my mood.
Mother, however, was not pleased with this answer. “Jessica, this is getting ridiculous now; we’ve—“
“I--” I interjected.
“—have been waiting for how long--” she continued, ignoring me.
“—and still no truck!? No tip! None at all when your father hears about this mess!” She continued to ramble on, her voice thick with kind poison as she accused me of hiring a second-rate moving company. What did she think I could afford if I could barely pay bills?
Sweat dripping from my hairline, I looked to the ground, exhaling in hopes of relaxing. Too bad it didn’t work. “Ma,” I cut in harshly, facing her for the first time since we had slept together, “just go relax. I’ll handle the movers. Go lay down and take a nap or something.”
We stood in silence for a minute before she went back into the house, the door quietly shutting behind her. Not long after, the movers pulled into the driveway with apologies of an accident blocking their route, forcing them to take a side street to go around the blockage. I was more relaxed, now seeing my possessions, even if they were further solidifying the reality that I was going back to live with my parents, one of which I had recently given oral to. I fought the thought of my mother’s taste as the guys moved my belongings to my childhood bedroom; each time they passed even remotely close to my parents’ room, I wondered what my mom was doing.
They left once the truck was completely unloaded and I was left alone to battle my thoughts between unpacking the few boxes I had. As I pulled the tape away from cardboard, I thought about how my mom had pulled my underwear away from my flesh by the strings, my tongue snaking out to wet my lips as I thought about her nipple puckering in my mouth and scraping against the roof of my palette. Though I was trying to arrange my knick-knacks onto my dresser, I was distressed. I closed my eyes and with my crown to the wall, I leaned back, sliding down to the ground with my legs on either side of the box, feet flat on the ground so my knees were pulled up.
Instead of letting my eyes rest, I was only presented with the images from the other day. How could I have become so depraved that I would do that with her? That she would cheat on my father? Could she have cheated on him with someone else? How many someone elses? Though my guilt was growing, so was the want in me to do it all again with her. I wanted to feel wanted—not by her, but she seemed to be the only one with real excitement; she was the only one I could really give myself to without feeling like I was being judged. Maybe it’s because she was never silent with her judgments. She just blurted them out and made sure she could bring out my sex appeal, just like she did before we even had sex. She always got me to wear things without saying something, just as she did with the lingerie.
My mother was engrained in my mind; how she looked that day was dominating my senses, the smell of her perfume mixed with her juices still had made its mark on my nose, the softness of her skin as she rubbed her tits against mine. I shuddered as I thought of her body on top of mine as we shared my sex toy, a small spot darkening against the gusset of denim short shorts. With no underwear underneath to protect them, I couldn’t escape my arousal.
I kept thinking about my mother, what she was possibly doing in her room for so long. Flashes of her bun tousled as she laid in on her back, legs lewdly spread apart like mine as her fingers worked at the button between her legs, my stomach tightening as I thought of her fingers plunging into her creamy pussy. While she had pleasure written over her face in my mind, my nipples began to harden under my white tunic, another gush of my arousal oozed from my folds and onto the fabric. The feeling just reminded me of how my mother’s pussy flooded my mouth when I ate her out.
As more flashes of my mother and I played in my mind I felt more turned on, ready for another round. My right hand found its way under my shirt to my chest. The tips of my nails were teasing my skin while my left hand went straight to my opened crotch. I bit my lip as my nail scraped against the goose bumps of my areola, imitating my mother’s moves and pinching the nub of flesh. My left has was running up and down the wet spot, pressing the fabric to rub against my groin as I continued to want more of the depravity I was missing.
I pulled on my nipple, twisting it as I pulled away from my chest, the tug shooting electricity down to my cunt, my walls spasming as I gave myself attention.
“You little slut,” was the sentence that pulled me out of my playtime. Eyes flung open, I turned my head to look at the door where my mother stood, her full figure barely hidden by an open robe, a pair of black panties clearly the only thing to really be covering herself. Her eyes were glazed over with laziness, like she had been just masturbating in her room the entire time, which wouldn’t have been that strange of an occurrence. Her French manicure wrapped around the door frame as she leaned into the framework, her hair in a messy bun that had gone lopsided. I could see a few loose strands standing up in the back and the sides and she pouted, “Not even inviting your mother to play with you?”
My voice was gone. I didn’t know what to say or what I could possibly say to her that could turn her personality away from me, but a small voice in my head reminded me that I didn’t want to turn her away. She stepped into my room, the door clicking shut behind her as she looked at the light yellow walls. “We should paint this room,” she offered to me as she rested her fists on her hips so her robe would open completely. Her full tits were on display, the sun falling on them from the window, highlighting the sheen of drying sweat that confirmed my suspicion that she had spent the last thirty minutes making herself come.
I was staring at her chest as she glanced around the room. “Not like you ever asked me to join your playtime,” I finally answered her, my hand now out of my shirt, both hands now excruciatingly close, but still so far away from my wet pussy. Her head swiveled to look at me, her eyes evident with her shock. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?” I asked her as I rested my crown against the wall. “You just can’t stop yourself,” I stated off-handedly for her.
My mom walked over to me with her robe curving around her sagging breasts, the large mass of flesh bouncing with each step. I felt myself swallow as I watched her, my mouth beginning to water as my gaze moved down to see a wet patch matching my own on her panties. Biting my lip, I looked up at her figure as she towered over me, her hand brushing the side of my face from temple to chin. Her finger went back up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before finally resting as a cup over my cheek. “Do you want me to ask you to join?” was her only question, with such scary implications that she had to whisper it.
Without even thinking about it, I nodded. Our eyes locked, we both knew what we meant; we knew that this conversation had more lasting effects than what it meant and we were both ready for it. Not only was I ready to face whatever consequence that I was sure would eventually come, but I was ready for us to take the step that would cement our decision.
I pulled my head from the wall and let my lips kiss my mother’s folds through the black fabric, my brown eyes still locked with her hazel ones. I pulled back and went to kiss her covered mound once more before dragging a flat tongue up her front. Though I could taste the fabric, I reveled at the taste of my mother as her musk registered clearly. I wanted to taste more.
Mouth open, I placed it around her sex and sucked, tongue writhing against her covered lips. At this, she groaned, a low hum shaking her body as her hand left my cheek and instead went to pull my hair from my face. “Mmm,” she muffled through barely parted lips, her hips gyrating against my tongue, bouncing for more. “Mommy loves it when you play with her, Jessica.”
At her words, my tongue flailed against her more, my suction increasing as I buried my face further into her muff. “Yes, please me,” she sighed with encouragement, her grip flexing as she tried to control her body against my muscle. I began to trace the inner O of my mouth and felt the seam of her leg holes pulling into my mouth.
Her taste and sounds were driving me wild. At first touch of the seam, I retreated from her garden and yanked her panties to the side with fervor. Though I had only tasted her once before in my entire life, I could feel my addiction to her nectar taking hold of my life as I spread her pussy lips apart with the middle and index finger of my left hand. I moaned as I saw her hole oozing with cum, physically slouching towards her to plunge back in.
“Eat me, sweetie,” she pleaded with me, trying to pull me back into her by my hair. I let her pull me in and I let the tip of my tongue trail from the bottom of her lips to the center of her clit, circling the spot with patience. I felt her spasm as I teased her, my lips replacing my tongue on her button. I went back down to let my tongue work around her hole, swirling around the rim of her entrance. Her entire body shivered, her grip going to the back of my head and her hips jutting forward in attempt to get my tongue to sink into her depths.
My tongue writhed inside of her, teasing her with fake pull outs before jutting to the back of her walls. With each thrust of my tongue, I felt my mother quiver like a leaf and it spurred me further to dive even deeper into her cunt. Juices spilled down my throat as I drank her with fervor, determined to have more to drink; I wanted to make her come and I wanted her to submit to me.
With my hands on her hips, I pulled her closer to me, my mouth sucking her vulva as I penetrated the canal I had been born from. Her nails were gently scraping my scalp as her body obeyed to my tongue, reacting to each curl and wave my muscle made inside her. I knew she wanted to move more, but didn’t in fear of my tongue slipping from her folds. Moans filled the room; they were the only thing I was focusing on as I continued to please her, wanting her pitch to get higher. I wanted her body to lock and shake on my mouth. I wanted her to surrender to her daughter.
As her pitch began to rise and her whimpers increased, I slid my tongue from her crevice before quickly running it against her clit. The clench of her walls made her jerk so hard that one of her hands went flat to the wall to support her weight, a small thump that barely registered as I heard my mother’s breath catch. That catch of breath made something inside me want her cum even more; I wanted nothing else other than my mommy’s thighs squeezing around my face as I triggered her orgasm. I wanted her to cover my face with her juices.
Determined to get exactly what I wanted, I shoved my entire tongue into her cunt, sucking her lips around my tongue as I felt her weight shift to her hand. I hummed as my tongue violently writhed inside of her, the tip brushing against every ripple and bump inside of her, forcing her to ride my face. I moaned into her muff again as I felt her gyrate into me. My moan turned into one of surprise as I felt her pussy clench my tongue and spill ounces of her cum into my mouth. I drank. Her fluid filled my mouth, my throat, spilling down my neck as my face flooded. Her scent filling my nose as I felt her nectar drip down my collarbone.
“Oooooh,” she groaned as her walls spasmed around my retreating tongue, the scraping of its departure making her shiver. “Oh yeah! Yes, yes, make mommy come, baby,” she whispered hoarsely before chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, her stiffened back bouncing on my face as she continued to pour more of her juice into me.
Her hoarse voice groaned in relaxation as her flow finally subsided, her body still shaking from the experience. I grinned at my success. Feeling playful, my tongue swiped against her clit, the bud engorged and bright, the sensitivity making my mother shake again. My smile widened as her head rolled back with pleasure.
With craned neck, I watched her shoulders move, her breasts bounce in reaction—I saw the glow of sweat spotting her skin and mixing with the sun. It was then that it clicked that I had wanted this for the longest time, no doubtedly adding to the tension between my mom and I which I had foolishly thought as hatred instead of sexual frustration. Her head rolled down so our gazes met, staring at each other with only the sound of her short breath surrounding us. “Invite me,” I whispered. It was not a command, but a prompting for what I knew she wanted to do. She was not often the type to hold her tongue, but I was suddenly seeing her as more than just a one-dimensional character. I was finally seeing her as a human-being.
“Come play with my, baby,” she offered with a soft caress of my face, her hand opening up for my help. Once I stood face-to-face with her, she swung my around to the bed and climbed on top of me. Her knees were either side of my hips as she leaned over and let her lips brush against mine, the feather-light touch enough to make my react with fervor. My arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her mouth to mine as our lips violently tangoed, our tongues dashing in and out of each other mouths as if our lives depended on it. I let her taste herself, her taste a gentle linger on her own tongue evident. The thought of my mother licking her own fingers clean after playing with herself made my clit throb and my heart pound inside my chest. My excitement was growing and I did not want to wait for her anymore.
My fingers took hold of her wrist and placed her hand between my thighs, the touch of her warm fingers against my wet short sending my hips forward with want. Instinctively, my mother rubbed. She worked up and down my crease, pushing the rough material against my smooth shaven skin. Her hand only paused my pleasure to unzip my pants, but the hesitation was well worth it as I felt her finger rubbing against my clit. My cunt was wet, pouring out nectar to make my mother’s fingers slip against my velvet-soft mound.
“Looks like someone may be excited,” she joked to me as her finger circled the entrance of my pussy, sliding around the rim of the orifice with ease thanks to my arousal. I gasped at the touch as my heart raced again. The pad of her finger slowly, excruciatingly slowly, worked its way around my hole, her mouth attaching itself to my neck just above my collarbone. My hips jerked up in hopes of her finger sinking into me, but she pulled her finger away with a tsk. “Now, baby, you have to be patient! All good things come to those who wait.”
Her mock chastise came to a whisper in my ear, but the crook of my neck was washed with the warmth of her words. My nails dug into her back as I reveled in the warmth, the cloth of her robe barricading me from her skin. I pulled it off of her back and threw it to the ground. When I imagined that it would have hit the ground, she pushed the tip of her finger into my opening, a second finger stretching my entrance wider.
My jaw dropped as my eyes rolled back into my head. I was never this sensitive before, but the anticipation mixed with my 3-day want and made me feel like I hadn’t been touched in years. I needed more.
She moaned into my ear, the sound of her amusement alone sent shivers down my spine. “Is that what you wanted me to do? Hmm? Wanted me to finger-fuck this little cunt of yours?” Her fingers sunk into me before she started to retract. She plunged them back into my depths and I whimpered with delight. My legs were already shaking as she continued to saw into me, the feel of her fingers filling me taking over my senses.
“Y-yes; yes mommy,” I managed to slip into one of my moans, my reward being another finger filling my pussy. My hips were meeting her thrusts with perfect timing, her fingers going deeper into my body.
With as much effort I could muster, my eyes opened to her swinging tits in my face. Seeing her hard nipple dancing in my face made me latch onto it, suckling as she continued to work over her daughter’s pussy. My teeth gently wrapped around the hard bud of her nipple as her thumb rubbed against my throbbing clit each time her fingers slid into me. “Mommy!”
My inaudible whisper into her chest was met with a faster thrust. The pleasure was almost unbearable as I shook on her hand, my legs numb from shaking for so long with want, already. My nails dug into her back as I felt my pussy tighten its grip on her fingers, my walls readying to coat her flesh with my cum. I couldn’t hear anything but my mom’s own voice, her dirty words encouraging me to orgasm for her, that I was so tight, that I looked so fucking hot when I was moaning for her. It was too much for me to handle any longer.
With one hand still digging into her back, my other went to grip the sheets as my cunt spasmed around her fingers. I yelled as my knuckles turned white and the rest of my body clenched as tight as my fist. Even though I was already rocking my own personal earthquake, I could feel my mind shatter as she furiously rubbed my clit with her thumb, fingers still inside me.
I kissed her as if it would give me my breath back. Our lips locked for what was probably only moments, but felt like it had lasted for almost an hour. My teeth pulled her bottom lip as I let my head fall back onto the bed in exhaustion. She stared down at me with triumph as her thumb stopped moving against my clit. Her fingers wiggled only briefly before she pulled out of my depths.
She placed a gentle kiss upon my cheek and forehead, her smile still in tack when she pulled away from my face. “Such a naughty girl, you little motherfucker,” she laughed. With short breath, I gave a small laugh of my own as she stood up. I felt the fading spasm of my orgasm as I watched my mother lick her fingers clean of my juices, occasionally sucking the entire finger. She picked up her robe and fastened it around herself as I became aware of the layer of sweat that had plastered my tunic to my skin. “Wash up for dinner,” she told me with her back to the room, the doorway framing her ever-leaving body. The last I saw of her before dinner was the whip of her robe disappearing around the door jamb.
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