Lena’s voice is a velvet command in the charged silence. “Lie down, Sarah. Right here.”

Her hands are on my mother’s shoulders, gentle but insistent, guiding her backward onto the soft, rumpled rug beside the bed. Sarah moves like a sleepwalker, her eyes glazed, her naked body yielding. She lowers herself, her back coming to rest on the floor, her dark hair fanning out around her head. Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, her breasts full and peaked in the cool air of the room.

“You,” Lena says, her gaze mesmerizing me. She points to the floor between my mother’s parted legs. “There. Now.”

I scramble on my knees, the world narrowing to the triangle of shadow and soft, damp curls before me. The scent of her—musky, sweet, utterly female—fills my head, mingling with Lena’s jasmine perfume. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic drum of lust and nervous terror.

Lena kneels beside Sarah’s hip, one hand stroking her stomach. “Just relax, sweetie. Just feel.” Her other hand reaches out and grips my hair, not painfully, but with a firm ownership that makes my skin prickle. She guides my head forward. “Caress her. Her thighs first. She’s trembling.”

My hands are unsteady as I place them on the insides of my mother’s thighs. Her skin is impossibly soft, warm. I stroke upward, from her knees toward the heat of her core. She flinches, a tiny jerk, and her legs try to close.

“No,” Lena murmurs, her voice a low hum. She pushes Sarah’s knees apart, holding them open. “Let him. Let him see what he’s done to you. Look how wet you are for him.”

“Lena, this is…” Sarah’s voice is a thin, strained thread. She tries to sit up on her elbows, her eyes wide with a panic that’s at war with the dark flush on her skin. “We can’t… I’m his mother.”

“And he’s a man,” Lena states simply, her thumb circling Sarah’s navel. “A man who wants you. Haven’t you wondered? All those years?” She looks at me, her eyes glittering. “Tell her. Tell her what you’ve thought about when you were alone.”

The confession burns in my throat, a secret I’ve carried for years, now demanded in this impossible moment. I keep my hands moving on her thighs, feeling the fine tremor in her muscles. I look up and then quickly down in shame.

“I have,” I whisper. Then my eyes lock with my mother’s. My voice finds strength when I see her passion. “For years. Since I was in college. I’d… I’d think of you. Your smile. The way you’d hug me, your shapely body.” My voice drops again to a shameful, heated whisper. “I’d jerk off into a sock thinking about you. In my room, while I studied, and at night, trying to sleep. All through college. Fantasizing about… about you naked, wanting me as much as I wanted you.”

A shocked gasp escapes Sarah’s lips. Wide-eyed, she stares at me and then something else flickers in their depths—a raw, stunned recognition. Acknowledgement. The secret shame she’d sensed but never named, now lay bare between us.

“See?” Lena purrs, triumphant. “It’s not just me. It’s real. He’s been burning for you. Now let him taste what he’s dreamed of.”

The last thread of her resistance snaps. Sarah’s elbows give out, and she sinks back to the floor, a surrendering sigh leaving her lips. Her head turns to the side, eyes closing, as if she can’t bear to watch but can’t bear to stop it, either.

“Go on,” Lena commands me, her hand tightening in my hair. “Eat your mother’s pussy. Make her moan for you.”

She pushes my head down.

The first touch of my tongue is a lightning strike.

I drag the flat of it slowly, firmly, through her soaked folds, from the tight furl of her back entrance all the way up to the throbbing nub of her clit. The taste explodes on my senses—salty, musky, profoundly her. It’s the most forbidden flavor in the world, and it makes me groan against her, my own arousal a painful throb between my legs.

Her whole body arches off the floor, a silent, taut bow. A choked gasp rips from her throat.

I do it again, slower this time, savoring the texture, the heat, the unbelievable reality of it. My hands slide under her cheeks, lifting them, opening her wider to me. I bury my face in her, my tongue delving deeper, seeking the source of her wetness. I find her entrance and push inside, just an inch, and her hips buck wildly.

“Oh, God…” The words are a prayer, a curse, torn from her.

Lena’s hands are on Sarah’s breasts, kneading, pinching her nipples with a rough, knowing pressure. “That’s it,” Lena coaxes, her voice thick with her own arousal. “Listen to him. He’s starving for you. Let him have it.”

I latch onto her clit, sucking the hard little bud into my mouth. I flick my tongue over it rapidly, then slow to a maddening, circular pressure.

Sarah’s moan is long and low, vibrating through her body and into mine. Her hands fly down, her fingers tangling in my hair. She doesn’t push me away. She holds me there, her grip desperate. “Yes… there… right there…”

Her hips begin to move in a helpless, grinding rhythm against my mouth. I worship her, learning her responses. A firm, steady suck makes her cry out. A quick, fluttering lick makes her whimper. I slide two fingers inside her, curling them, searching.

When I find that spongy spot deep inside her, she screams.

It’s a raw, shattered sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her inner walls clamp down on my fingers like a vise, pulsing rhythmically. Her back is off the floor, held in a rigid arc of ecstasy. I keep sucking, keep licking, keep my fingers pressed deep inside her as her orgasm rolls through her in wave after devastating wave.

“Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, don’t stop!” she begs, her voice broken and utterly unfamiliar.

I don’t. I drink her in, feeling her juices coat my chin, feeling her body convulse around my fingers. The taste of her climax is even richer, more intense. I’m lost in her, in the sounds she’s making, in the feel of her coming apart on my tongue.

Slowly, the tremors subside. She collapses back onto the rug, boneless, her chest heaving. Her hands fall away from my hair, limp at her sides. Her eyes are open now, staring at the ceiling, dazed and glazed over.

Lena leans down, kissing Sarah’s temple. “Good?” she murmurs, a smug, satisfied smile on her face.

“Is he as good as I am?” Sarah only moans in response, a soft, sated sound. I am shocked, My mother having sex with Lena?"

Lena’s eyes meet mine over Sarah’s quivering body. They are dark with lust and power. “She’s not done,” Lena whispers, her voice a promise of more. “Now make her scream my name while you do it.”