Unspoken Pleasure

Mom rode me faster, harder, using my cock to satisfy every inch of her twat tunnel while my thickness spread her cunny walls without mercy. She changed the angle of her pussy strokes, the speeds, the depths, the softness and hardness of her thrusting hips. I paid attention to her movements and reactions, listening to her soft cries, her wild moans, her groans, her grunts, the changes in her breathing–I memorized every sound of pleasure that left her lips as she used my cock to make her pussy come.

“Thumb my clit,” Mom whispered, her words rushed and fighting to break through her labored breathing. “Come on, Mark–oh, fuck–do Mommy a favor and thumb my clit.” She whimpered. “Make Mommy come, baby. Make Mommy come hard.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

I lifted my right hand, placing it on my mother’s mound. Dampness covered her skin and pubic hair, and when my thumb slid over her slippery hood, I found her little jewel creamy with the same pussy juices that had saturated our groins.

Mom’s little nub rolled beneath the tip of my thumb. She bucked harder against my cock when I squished her clit against her pubic bone, and she swung her hips in a wide, slutty circle when I swished her pearl from side to side. Mom’s right hand swept up the inside my thigh, moving below her ass and cupping my balls, filling my sack with a light, airy tingle that danced across my skin. A buzzing started in my cock, intensifying as my mother–my motherfucking mother–matched her sack-fondling to my clit-caressing. Within a minute, the pleasure focused on my cock’s head grew overwhelming. Mom’s insides had melted, dripping her honey onto me with every pleasure-inducing ripple of her cunny muscles.

My body tensed in concert with my mother’s. As I pressed down hard on her clit, swishing it from side to side, she pulled down on my sack while grinding her insides against my knob, creating an explosion within me that emptied my body of every last drop of jizz my balls could muster. I squeezed my ass, pushing my hips upward and forcing Mom into the air, my cock impaling her pussy and reaching into the warmth of her soft guts, searching for her heart.

“Jesus!” Mom cried out, coming loud and long, her hips moving back and forth in double time as her pussy rode my cock without mercy. Mom fell atop me after she came, kissing and licking my lips and mouth, my face, her primal actions drawing out the last of my incestuous sperm.

I didn’t put up much of a fight when Mom crawled out of my bed and left my room. I grabbed my phone, checking the time, and my eyes widened when I saw that it was only midnight. That left us plenty of time to rest and recover. We’d be alone together tomorrow, mother and son, newly minted lovers.

***Mom’s Kinky Side***

The last thing I remembered before waking up was my father yelling at me, his words long forgotten by the time I realized I had been dreaming, though my racing heartbeat got the message slower than my mind.

My door popped open, and Mom stuck her head into my room, her cheeks glowing from some new light within her body. “Make sure you shower before you come downstairs,” Mom said. “You don’t want your father smelling my pussy on you, do you?” She nibbled her bottom lip as she gave me a long look and smile, then she ducked away, reminding me of a teenager as the door closed behind her.

Fuck what my dad may have smelled; I wasn’t going downstairs until he left the house. My phone rang with Jenna’s ringtone. I grabbed it, swiped it, and said, “Yell-O?”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Jenna said. “I’m doing something tonight that’s either going to make my dad let me have you or make him put me in therapy. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait,” I said. “What?” But I was talking to empty space.

I stared at my phone, with my thumb hovering over the dial button, but one yawn later, I set my phone down and looked at my dick, which was standing up big and strong and fucking sore. I got out of my bed, naked and sticky with Mom’s pussy juice, our cum, and our sweat. I pulled on a pair of shorts and headed to my bathroom, where after taking care of my morning ritual, I jumped in the shower and let the warm water wash away the layer of sex that coated my body. The sex residue melted away, sliding off me with a thick, prurient grip that reminded me of last night in vivid detail. After cleaning myself, I thought about my soreness and remembered that athletes used the cold to rejuvenate their bodies, so I turned off my hot water.

“Fuck this,” I said after a second of freezing my nuts off and shrinking my dick. I jumped out of the shower, finished up, and returned to my room.

I dressed in shorts and a shirt, both loose, without my boxer briefs. I watched my clock tick away until eight in the morning, knowing that my father had left by then unless he had stayed home for some reason. I hadn’t heard the garage door open, but then my father didn’t always park in the garage either.

Oh, no, I thought. Was my father staying home today? Was that why Mom had told me to take a shower? No, no, no! He couldn’t stay home when I could now have sex with my mother whenever I wanted. Fuck-fuck-fuck!

I hurried downstairs with my phone in my hand and my cock as soft as a feathered pillow. I hit the foyer and turned toward the kitchen, quick-stepping through the shortcut hallway and into the kitchen, where I found Mom sitting at the end of the breakfast table and no sign of my father anywhere. My eyes moved so fast that I had yet to take in what my mother was wearing this morning.

“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, biting into a quartered pear. “You look anxious.”

“Did Dad leave?”

Mom nodded, saying, “Did you need to tell him something?”

I shook my head, sighing, and I let my gaze settle over my mother, who wore her hair up and knotted at the back of her head, loose strands hanging in an artsy mess. Then my eyes drifted downward.

A creamy-white knitted cardigan adorned her body; the wooden buttons were undone straight down the center of her torso. On the table, where Dad ate his breakfast, lay a pair of pajama pants, a shirt, a bra, and a skimpy pair of lacy, thong panties. Mom sat with the chair angled toward the kitchen island, her left leg on the floor, her right on her seat, open and giving me a window to the blonde pussy between her thighs. She had her paper in her left hand and was eating her pears with her right, her white teeth snapping into the porous fruit, but none of the juices dripped past her full lips.