The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat and jasmine perfume. My mother’s taste is still on my tongue, sharp and sweet, a brand on my senses. She lies panting on the rug, her body still trembling from the force of her climax. But I am not done. The sight of her, the sound of her moan, the feel of her juices around my fingers has ignited something feral and desperate in me. My cock aches, a throbbing, insistent demand.
Lena’s voice cuts through Sarah’s ragged breaths, cool and commanding. “On your knees, Sarah. Now.”
My mother’s eyes flutter open, dazed. She looks at Lena, then at me, seeing the raw hunger on my face. A fresh shiver runs through her, but it’s not fear. It’s anticipation. She pushes herself up, wobbling slightly on shaky limbs, and turns over, getting onto her hands and knees on the soft rug. The curve of her back, the ripe swell of her ass, the glistening, pink folds between her thighs—it’s a view from my most secret fantasies, made devastatingly real.
I move behind her, my knees sinking into the rug on either side of her thighs. My hands find her hips, the skin hot and smooth under my palms. I lean over her, my chest pressing against her sweat-slicked back, my mouth near her ear.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” I rasp, the truth a low growl. “For years.”
She lets out a trembling sigh, her head hanging low. “I know,” she whispers, the words choked with shame and a thrilling acceptance.
I position myself, the broad head of my cock nudging against her soaked entrance. She’s so wet, so ready. I don’t wait. I don’t ask. I push forward.
The feeling is electric, sublime. A tight, velvety heat envelops me, inch by exquisite inch. A broken, guttural moan tears from Sarah’s throat as I sink into her fully, my hips flush against her ass. “Oh, God…” she sobs, the sound part pain, part ecstasy.
I freeze for a second, buried to the hilt inside my own mother, my mind screaming at the impossibility, the depravity, the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of it. Then Lena speaks, her voice a siren’s call from directly beneath us.
“Sarah, look at me.”
My mother lifts her head. Lena has lain down on the rug in front of her, on her back, her legs spread. Her dark hair fans out, her body a pale offering. She is smiling, a wicked, inviting curve of her lips. She hooks her hands behind her own knees, drawing them up and wide, exposing herself completely.
“You taste so good, sweetie,” Lena purrs, her eyes locked on Sarah’s. “Now return the favor. Suck my pussy. While your son fucks you.”
The command is so blatant, so obscene. Sarah whimpers, a sound of pure, overwhelmed arousal. Her body clenches around me involuntarily, drawing a ragged groan from my chest.
“Do it, Mom,” I urge without thinking, my voice thick. My hands tighten on her hips. I begin to move, pulling back slowly, then driving back in with a firm, steady stroke.
The sound is obscenely perfect—the wet slap of flesh, the soft, slick sounds of our joining. Sarah cries out, her body jolting forward with my thrust. Her focus shatters. She lowers her head, her mouth seeking Lena’s core, but another deep, rolling thrust from me makes her moan long and loud against Lena’s thigh, her lips missing their mark.
“Uh-uh,” Lena chides softly, her fingers threading into Sarah’s hair. She guides her mother’s head, positioning her. “Here. Right here. Don’t let his big cock distract you. Suck.”
Sarah’s tongue finds its mark, plunging into Lena’s depths with a desperate, hungry rhythm.
My thrusts become the driving force, the engine for her worship. Each time I slam forward, burying myself to the hilt in the tight, clutching heat of my mother, I shove her face deeper into Lena’s pussy. Her moans are muffled, vibrating directly against Lena’s clit.
“Yes,” Lena hisses, her head thrown back, her hands clenched in Sarah’s dark hair. “Just like that. Don’t you stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
I am lost in a savage, primal rhythm. My hands are vise-like on Sarah’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding her steady for my pounding. The sounds are filthy, perfect—the wet, sucking sounds of Sarah’s mouth on Lena, the slick, rhythmic slap of my body against hers, the choked, guttural cries she tries to swallow.
Her back is a taut, sweaty arch. With every deep stroke, I can feel her inner muscles clench and flutter around me, a frantic, involuntary response to the dual sensations—the invasion of my cock and the demand of Lena’s pussy on her tongue.
I lean over her, my chest plastered to her slick back. My mouth finds the side of her neck, biting down not in pain, but in a fierce, possessive claim. She gasps, the vibration traveling through her mouth and into Lena, who arches up off the rug with a sharp cry.
“Fuck, she’s good,” Lena pants, her eyes rolling back. “All those years of being a proper mom… and you have a mouth like a fucking goddess.” She grinds her hips up, meeting Sarah’s plunging tongue. “Suck my clit. Suck it hard.”
Sarah obeys. I can see the muscles in her jaw working, the intense focus even as her body is being rocked by mine. Her lips close around Lena’s swollen bud, and she sucks, hard and rhythmic, in time with my thrusts.
It’s too much. The visual alone is enough to push me to the edge. My mother, on her hands and knees, being fucked by her son while she eats out her best friend. The depravity of it is a drug, coursing through my veins, burning away every last shred of inhibition.
I increase my pace. It’s no longer rhythmic; it’s a frantic, driving piston. I am fucking her with a ferocious hunger, each stroke aimed deep, claiming her in the most fundamental way possible. Her moans become continuous, a broken, whimpering melody against Lena’s flesh.
“She’s gonna come,” I grit out, the words torn from me. “I can feel her… tightening…”
“Make her,” Lena commands, her own breathing ragged. “Make her come on your cock while she makes me come on her tongue.”
It’s the final command. The final taboo. I reach one hand around, my fingers finding the slick, swollen nub of her clit. I press hard, circling with a rough, urgent pressure.
Sarah’s body seizes.
A raw, shattered scream is ripped from her, but it’s swallowed by Lena’s pussy, turning into a guttural, vibrating moan. Her inner walls clamp down on me like a wet, silken fist, pulsing in frantic, rhythmic waves. Her hips buck wildly, trying to match my relentless pace even as she’s swept away.
The sensation of her climax squeezing my length is my undoing.
With a roar that feels ripped from my soul, I drive into her one last, brutal time and bury myself to the root. My release erupts, hot and endless, pumping deep into her convulsing core. It’s a claiming, a branding, a flood of forbidden seed where it was never, ever meant to be.
My vision whites out. I collapse forward over her, my weight pressing her down into Lena, my hips still jerking with the last pulses of my orgasm.
Beneath us, Lena cries out, a sharp, keening sound of pure ecstasy. Her thighs clamp around Sarah’s head, her back bowing off the floor. “Yes! Oh god, YES!” Her release is a hot flood against Sarah’s chin, and she shudders violently before going limp.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of ragged, gasping breaths. The three of us are a tangled, sweaty, spent heap on the rug. I am still buried inside my mother, softening now, but intimately connected. Her face is still buried in Lena’s slick folds.
Slowly, gently, Lena’s hands release Sarah’s hair. She strokes it instead, a soft, almost tender gesture. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse. “Such a good, dirty girl.”
Sarah makes a weak, sobbing sound. She turns her head to the side, resting her cheek on Lena’s thigh. Her eyes are closed, tears tracking through the mess on her face. She is utterly broken open.
I carefully pull out of her. The sight of my own release beginning to seep from her makes my spent cock twitch. I roll onto my back beside them, staring at the ceiling, my mind a blissful, shattered blank.
Lena is the first to move. She sits up, her movements languid and satisfied. She looks down at Sarah, then at me, a slow, catlike smile spreading across her face. “Well,” she says, her voice regaining its smooth, melodic tone. “That was certainly more fun than cleaning an attic.”
She stands, her body gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat and other fluids. She walks to the bedside table, picks up a glass of water, and drinks deeply. Then she turns, leaning against the dresser, watching us.
“Sarah,” she says. “Look at him.”
My mother’s eyes flutter open. She turns her head, her gaze finding mine. There’s no shame there now. Just a deep, stunned weariness, and beneath it, a glowing, sated warmth. Her eyes travel down my body, lingering on my softening cock, glistening with her and my mixed essences.
“He filled you up with passion and love,” Lena states, matter-of-factly. “You feel it, don’t you? That warm, full feeling deep inside?”
