My Mother's Cock, Act Two

I woke up with the splitting headache that always follows a good, hard cry. My eyes felt puffy still, and my mouth was cottony. I hadn't closed my door, but it was shut anyway. The clock on my nightstand said it was a little after 2:00 in the morning.

Memory, painful and laden with heavy regret, flooded through me. I felt as though I had woken from the kind of dream that portends disaster, only my nightmare was behind me. It had happened. Mine was real.

Nausea came next as I sat up and spied the dried, crusty panties that I had sucked clean wadded up on the floor next to my bed. The rumble in my gut broiled into self-loathing as I stared at the physical token of my debased, sick deprivation. My mother's cum was in my body. I had eaten it. Slurped at it. If I burped, I'd taste it again. I thought about forcing myself to purge it, but that had never been my style. No, I deserved to digest my sin.

I pulled something on and made my way into the hall, intent on brushing my teeth in the bathroom closer to my bedroom before finding some water. With my tongue scrubbed of any errant swimmers, I headed to the kitchen to do something about my apparent dehydration. Every step felt like it took me further down the path to hell. Maybe I was feeling a little dramatic, okay? Shut the fuck up.

I flicked the kitchen light on and shrieked. Mama, seated at the table alone with her head propped on one hand and a wine glass in front of her, yelped back at me. A tin takeout container sat on the table in the place I usually sat with a note folded up on top of its lid. Anna snatched the note up and stuffed it into the pocket of her housecoat, but I had already seen it.

"Shit, sorry," I panted, leaning against the wall to calm myself. "I didn't know you were down here."

"No, I... I should have made a sound or something. Sorry. That's my fault."

We gave each other the flat non-smiles that you give strangers in grocery store aisles. It was pathetic and lonely for both of us.

"I - there's some food," she said awkwardly. "I didn't know if you were hungry so I..."

She didn't even finish the sentence, but her misery seemed to run at least as deep as mine. Instead of bailing her out immediately, I silently grabbed a mug from the cupboard, the bottle of wine from the fridge, and a fork from the drawer. I plopped down heavily across from her and uncorked her merlot.

"What are you..." she began as I reached across to fill her glass again. Her shoulders rose slightly as she exhaled in something very close to deflated mirth.

"I think we both need a little of this," I reported before filling my coffee mug with the last of the bottle. Merlot is for sad people; I figured it was fitting. I tore the lid off the food she had ordered and stuck my fork into a cold chicken ball.

"I don't know if that's even good anymore," she said quietly. "It's been out for a while."

I shrugged and washed my first bite down with a swig of dry wine. "It's okay. I'm hungry."

"Want me to warm it up for you?"

"I'm okay. Cold Chinese is better."

"Okay," she replied simply.

I didn't look at her. She didn't look at me. We both drank in silence, and I ate cold Lo Mein in the quiet kitchen for several long minutes. Her discomfort eclipsed mine, but just barely.

"Belle, I..."

"Can I read the note?" I interjected.

"What?"

"The note," I repeated. "Can I read it? Or will you read it to me? I saw you put it in your pocket when I came in."

"Oh, I uh..."

I put my fork down and placidly drained my mug with a wince. For a refined woman, she had shockingly bad taste in alcohol. "Please?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded twice; the haggard look on her face and dark bags under her eyes made her look careworn, but no less pretty. I was already glad we'd run into each other early - it would have been so easy for us to stick our heads in the sand and spend the next hundred years hiding from each other until I moved out or we died of old age, privately, in the solitude of our own bedrooms.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the slip of paper she had scrawled her note on. I waited eagerly for her words to wash over me and make everything okay again, and I held my breath as she cleared her throat to begin reading.

"Dear Belle," she read. I smiled at that. The rest would be sweet and reassuring and kind. We'd be mother and daughter again, two peas in a...

"If you want to warm this up, stick it in the oven for a few minutes. Love Mama Bear."

I stared at her as she sniffed once and folded the note back up. My mouth hung open in disbelief. Anna took a sip of her drink and licked her lips.

"That's it?!"

"That's it."

"That's all you had to say?!"

"That's what I wrote," she replied evenly.

"You... But you..."

"I know."

"And we..."

"We did."

"But... but that's..."

She leaned in with her elbows on the table and laid her hands upright between us, waiting for me to take hold of them. I did so, but only out of habit. She was being a dick.

"Belle, honey. You don't apologize for things like that in a note left on some cold Chinese food. You do it in person."

"Oh. Right." Not a dick then. A well-adjusted adult woman. With feelings.

"Sweetheart, look at me. I'm sorry, okay? I am. I really, really am. I don't even know how to begin telling you how guilty I feel right now. I feel... I feel gross. I hate that I..."

"We," I corrected. "It takes two to tango, Mama. It's my fault more."

"I don't think so," she said. "No, I'm supposed to be the adult in the room."

"Yeah but you can't help it," I said. "You told me so."

"There's no excuse."

"No, there is. I... I wasn't helping."

Her lips worked to form words that never came until she eventually gave up with a sighed "Ah" sound.

"So I'm sorry too," I told her. "For everything."

She nodded in understanding. "We're a lot alike, I think. Aren't we?"

Eeesh, really just had to start blending onions in there, didn't she? "I think we might be."

She squeezed my hands. "Yeah. Yeah."

God, I hated feeling like a sappy little wreck. This was way less fun than... well, literally anything else. I refused to cry again, but I tugged my hand free and found the back of my hand wet after scrubbing my eyes anyway. "Stupid," I muttered.

"What's that?"

I groaned in frustration. "This is stupid," I said up at the ceiling. "I don't like it."

"I don't either," she replied.

"I thought I wanted this. I thought YOU wanted this."

"Belle?"

"No, really. I did. I... Fuck, I still do. Isn't that - Isn't that fucking gross? I thought about sticking my fingers down my throat to get you out of me and instead all I could think about was how there was no point. I'd want it again anyway. Yeah, I'm pissed off now, but it always comes back, doesn't it? Is that how it works for you too? Fucking answer me, Mama, please," I begged.

She rushed in. "It is. Yes. Always the same, and - Shit, baby. It's always worse if I... don't feed it."

The fact that she was so capably able to sum up my entire adult life's private experiences in so few words rocked me to my core. It, the thing we shared, the ravenous, uncaring inferno that raged inside of us, was starving. Always starving. There was no end to its appetites. No experience it wouldn't swallow up only to demand more. A tortured, gluttonous hunger that could never be sated.

Blegh. Queue the fucking waterworks again, I guess. "What do I do, Mama? I don't want it anymore."

She was at my side in a heartbeat, pulling me close as I soaked the shoulder of her housecoat in my ugly, blubbering tears. I swore, if I ever stopped crying I was going to get my tear glands surgically removed.

"I know baby, I know," she shushed me, rocking me back and forth as she patted my hair and kissed my cheek. "It's okay. I've got you. I'm here. It's alright."

I let it happen for a good while, letting the entire unattractive business run its course. When I finally finished being a weepy bitch and choked on a few hiccups, she finally let me sit back away from her. My bangs were plastered to my forehead in a sweaty mess. Not cute.

"It never goes away, does it?" I asked as I slowly recomposed myself.

"No," she said with a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid not, honeybun."

"Well that fucking sucks."

A little bark of abrupt laughter snuck past her. "Yeah," she chuckled. "Yeah, kinda."

"Is there, like, a name for it or something?"

She shrugged. "Not really. You can talk to someone about it if you'd like; I'll pay or whatever. I tried it."

"Did it help?"

She did the thing where her lips pull to one side, like a secret is going to sneak out of the corner. "Not really. I, uh, slept with the therapist."

"Mama!"

"It was after I fired her!"

"MAMA!"

"Sweetie, you don't get it," she protested.

"I think I fucking do!"

"She had this butt, like..." she held up her hands to convey the proportions of an ass so cartoonish that it belonged in Bikini Bottom. We shared a hearty, rejuvenating laugh.

"Ohh, wow," I sighed as our giggles subsided. "Ugh, shit. That's funny."

She plucked my hand out of my lap and gave it a little squeeze. "Listen, baby, I just... I need you to know that I do feel absolutely horrendous about earlier. If you could forgive me for my part in what happened, that's great. If not, I completely understand. You're my sweet pea; I don't want this to be something that gets between us."

"Thanks Mama. I love you. I'm sorry too. I..."

With my forehead nuzzled into her shoulder, my eyes naturally fell into the lap of her housecoat where a gap had fallen open between her thighs. She couldn't have known it at the time, but a decent measure of her cock was plainly visible, drooping at rest on the cushion of her heavy-looking balls. The hunger in me cracked one eye open and stirred from its slumber, but I tamped it down. "Later," I promised.

Anna kissed my forehead again and let me out of the hug we had been sharing as she got up, pulling her robe into place as she fetched a clean glass, filled it with water from the sink, and downed it in one go. "Well, should we try to get some sleep then?"

"Probably," I replied. "I'm beat."

"Me too, honey bun. Me too. Come on, let's go. We can talk more in the morning, yeah?"

"Uh huh, I'd like that."

With that, I took her hand and followed her upstairs, accepting another kiss on the cheek and sharing one last little hug before leaving her at the door to her room and heading down to my own. I flopped down on my mattress with a heavy sigh and rolled myself into my blankets. Sleep almost had me within minutes, but my phone lit the small room as a text came in.

A wide smile split my face as I read the words. Quietly, I turned the thing off, set it back on my nightstand, and grabbed my pillow.

"Stay on your side," Mom warned with her back turned to me. Her voice was so cute and sleepy. "And no snoring."

I peeled back the covers and crawled in behind her. She'd pulled a shirt and sleeping shorts on, but that was fine by me; it'd be safer if we both stayed dressed. I sidled in close to her and pressed myself into her back, wrapping one arm under her armpit and holding her close. If it hadn't been so late, the notion of touching her chest would have thrilled me. As it was, I could happy to play big spoon for the night.

We were both asleep in seconds anyway.

*******

She woke first on Sunday morning. A small part of me dreamed that there might be an illicit rendezvous or comedic mishap with her morning wood, but after the hurts and intensity of the day before, going a full twelve hours without something going wrong might be nice too. I still grumbled at the fact that I was waking up alone.

Her bedside clock said it was a little after 9:00. She would have been up for a while already, if not showered and running errands. I listened for some sound of her in the house, but she was either gone or sitting quietly somewhere. I missed her.

Eventually, my need to use the washroom outweighed my comfort; I got up and shuffled out of the room to do my business. The back patio door slid open downstairs as I brushed my teeth.

"Baby, is that you?"

"Yesh!" I called with a mouth full of Colgate.

"I'm outside; it's a beautiful day. Come out with me when you're done!"

I finished washing my face and tugged some clothes on for the day. My skimpy collection of underwear was still in a pile where I had been trying it on yesterday, but it all looked stupid just then; I kicked it under the bed and left the room.

"Hey," I said as I joined her on the back patio. It was back to long skirts for her today, but the thin tank she had on top was doing God's work for her tits. She shielded her eyes from the early sun and looked back at me as I stepped outside.

"There she is," she smiled. "Sleep well?"

I nodded. "Uh huh. You?"

"I actually did," she replied. "Though someone's icicle feet kept poking me."

"Sorry," I muttered as I dropped into a deck chair next to her. "I'll work on that."

She allowed herself a small promissory smile that suggested there would definitely be more opportunity to practice. "Yeah, you better. Listen though, honey, I wanted to talk about yesterday."

"Probably a good idea."

"It is," she said. "I just... I don't want any hurt feelings or ugliness. I think it'd be best if we both acknowledge that things got out of hand...

"Yeah."

"And that it's probably going to happen again."

My eyes flew wide open and my eyebrows climbed my forehead as high as they'd go. "What?!"

She gave a small shrug like she hadn't just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. Don't get me wrong, my nipples stiffened under my cami and I felt a flush of need rush between my legs, but I never expected that particular string of words to come out of her mouth.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"I don... You c - But we..." I stammered uselessly.

"Babe, I'm 43. I've been this way since I was your age. I know how this goes. Yes, I raised you hoping you could escape this, I don't know, fucking curse or whatever it is. But that doesn't look to be the case, does it? No. You're like me. Different accessories, same brain. I mean, it makes sense; you're my kid. But you get my point."

"But I'm... You said - Mama, you said it was really bad for you? You said you couldn't control yourself, that you..."

"Belle, sweetheart, listen to yourself. What happened yesterday? Can you really, honestly tell me that YOU were in control of yourself? You think that what happened was because you were making good decisions? You're JUST like me, baby. That's what this thing looks like. That's what happens."

"No, I - I was just horny. That's all. It's not..."

She turned to face me better. "People don't do that when they're horny, baby. And they don't get horny for the same things that we do. They get that way for the right people, and they have normal sex with each other about it."

"Oh God," I gasped.

She was right. God damn it, she was right! I had been so stupid. All along, I was looking for signs of her curse, her compulsions, her deviance. I never saw it in her because I was already looking in a mirror - of course I thought there was nothing remarkably different about her! All along, I thought I was the normal one and she was holding something back, privately wrestling with invisible demons that she kept out of my sight, protecting me and shielding me from her lonely battles. But no, I wasn't oblivious because I couldn't see it, I was oblivious because I was too stupid to realize that her struggles were mine too. All the hours and hours of degrading porn, getting on my back or knees for scraps of attention at house parties, getting naked for strangers on the internet, turning my own mother into an object of desire, all of it. It had been mine all along, just as much as it was hers.

"Yeah," she said, watching waves of realization crash over me. "You get it now, don't you?"

"Holy shit," I breathed. "What... what the fuck?"

Her smile was sympathetic, but it wasn't sad, so thank Christ for that. I don't think I could have handled pity. "Sorry, girlie. Like mother, like daughter I guess."

"I guess so. Fuck, Mom, what do... what do I do? What do we do?"

She took a deep breath and collected herself as she settled back in her chair again. "Well, if you want an honest answer, not much. Learn to live with it. Try to love yourself. Get good at asking for forgiveness, from yourself and others. Roll with the punches."

"Roll with the... but, I... I ate your fucking cum yesterday!"

She barked an abrupt, unexpected peal of laughter. "Oh shit," she roared. "Yeah. That'll... That'll happen."

"What do you mean it'll happen? You say that about a flat tire or a flooded basement!"

"Babe, you're still not getting this. You can fight it all you want, but you're wired differently. So am I. For the longest time, I thought it had something to do with my... you know."

"Your cock?"

"Yeah, that. It made sense in my head; something about testosterone, I don't know. With you, though... I don't know. Two peas in a pod, I guess."

I searched for something to say, some way to rise up to and address our developing understanding. I obviously had some catching up to do.

"So you just, what? Like, cum a bunch? Is that it?"

"It helps."

"But only for a while?"

"Depends. Avoiding triggers helps. Cumming helps. Staying busy can make it better. Sometimes none of it works and you just lose a few hours doing things and people you really regret later."

"Am... am I one of those people?"

She took another deep, contemplative breath. It was far too long for something that logic would demand a 'yes' out of. Surely a mother would regret a day like yesterday, right?

"No," she said simply. "I mean, yes. But no. I don't know. It's... it's complicated. I guess, if I had to explain it, I'm sorry that it happened, and I'm sorry that it was so hard, and I'm really sorry that this is how we had to find out that this is in your nature too, but do I regret what happened? I don't know if I do, Belle. Do you?"

Holy loaded question, Batman. "I... I haven't decided yet. I don't think so."

She nodded like I had proved her point. "There you go."

I needed more clarity. I needed to understand myself better. "I've been, uh, stealing your panties. For a while."

"I know."

"You... What?"

"Fair's fair, I've been stealing yours."

"Yeah, I - I noticed."

"I left the door unlocked," she said, moving swiftly on. "To the bathroom. I left it unlocked on purpose."

"No!"

"Yup."

"Mama! You're... you're bad!"

"I know it."

"That's naughty!"

"And you're not sneaky. Oh, and you know what? Stay out of my trash bin! I know you're stealing my crusty garbage."

"Oh, shit," I gasped. "I, uh, you see..."

"Shut it. Little pervert."

She wasn't mad. The wry smirk that she wouldn't let me see said as much. This was barbs thrown by equals, nothing else. "Fine."

"Good."

We sat in silence, warming ourselves in the sun, both staring in the same direction, both with shit-eating grins on our faces that we couldn't help. It's amazing how often progress looks just like chaos.

Eventually, Anna carried on. "This gets lonely, Belle. Eventually. You don't find people who can forgive forever, or look the other way when you're fucking up."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying that - Oh, fuck it. We need to try to keep our shit together, but it's not always going to work out that way, okay? I don't want you to have to feel the same way I have. Hiding, sneaking around, crying alone about the things you've done. I'll understand any decision that you make, but if you want to just... stay here with me... we can keep each other balanced. You know, hold each other accountable. But - Belle, baby. Just know that I'm not going to hold anything against you, okay? I'm the least qualified person to judge you. I've lived this life. I know where it goes and what it looks like. Yesterdays are gonna happen, but if they happen here, at home, then please know that there's always cold Chinese and hugs from Mama waiting at the other side, okay?"

What do you say to that? There aren't any words. There's no response. Put yourself in my shoes; what would you do with any of this information?

You'd stay. You know that you would. This is what home looks like.

I'm sure I said something to that effect. She reached out and held my hand. Birds chirped. The sun shone. A fat bee careened past us with a heavy load of pollen sticking to his furry legs.

"I hid under your bed," I confessed. "I listened to you suck your cock."

"BELLE MARIE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

*******

In the hours that followed, I felt a sort of peace settle into me. It was a bit of an uneasy thing, but powerfully comforting nonetheless. I had to keep reminding myself that it came with the addendum that we needed to keep each other's appetites in check as much as anything else, and I tried hard to get on board with that. It could be good. At least I understood a bit of myself now, even if that piece was mildly terrifying and wholly unfair.

But I had my Mama. Anna's smiles were warmer after that talk. Her touches on my arms and shoulders meant more. My heart swelled as much with genuine affection as anything else whenever she and I found ourselves in the same room. I looked less at her ass or tits and more at her face and eyes. I hung on her every word.

I fell in love.

Okay, okay, I know it's not great. But! I wasn't supposed to want her sexually either, so what did it matter that I wanted her romantically? It did occur to me that the two were almost definitely getting crossed in my mis-wired brain, but it was hard to care. I had permission now. She said as much, remember? She made me heart-horny.

And horny-horny. Like... stupidly so.

Later that afternoon I decided to mix up some lemonade for us while she poked around in the garden. It was a truly gorgeous day, so I fetched a book from my bedroom and settled in where I could watch her work. I don't think I actually read more than a few pages; I spent most of my time watching her root around in the dirt while I simmered in my budding crush. It was a cutesy, nauseating feeling that I felt a little inwardly silly about. Still, there's a certain thrill in giving that feeling a bit of runway. Possibilities can breathe and logic flies out the window; everything seems so possible. If I had really listened to her earlier, I would have known better than to let myself get carried away. Still, the heart wants what it wants, and I wanted to kiss her.

"There," she said, straightening from her flowerbed. "How's that look?"

Sweaty, muddy. Covered in scratches and bits of plant matter. Undeniably gorgeous though. Statuesque and voluptuous, even in her tragic skirt and cruddy sun hat. Eminently fuckable.

"You look great," I replied.

"The rose bush, dummy," she laughed, wiping her brow with a forearm. "It was getting a little wild-looking. Is it even on that side?"

"Yes, Mama," I replied impishly. "You've done a wonderful job of trimming your bush."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Be good, you."

"I am! Your bush was getting too big, so you pruned it."

"Belle," she warned.

"We've all gotta do it from time to time! Hell, I could probably do with a touch-up soon."

That was it. Eight seconds. It took me eight fucking seconds to get my way. The body of data grew richer by the day.

Anna bit her lip. "Is that so?"

"Uh huh. I don't like when it gets all prickly. The rose bush, I mean."

"The roses, of course," she replied in a voice dropping registers by the second. Another minute and she'd be purring.

"Always better when it's kept neat and tidy."

"Oh, without a doubt."

"It just looks cleaner."

The way she looked at me was changing. The set of her shoulders had softened. I couldn't place all the differences, but subtle things like the way she held her lips and the tilt of her head made the truth quite plain. I had turned her on.

"It does," she swallowed. One hand rose to her chest and she trailed her fingertips over the bare skin of her neckline.

I thought, hoped, that something might happen. I wanted it to. The last half-day had been such a rollercoaster of want and pain and discovery, but my desire kept pulling ahead of everything else. Besides, Anna had healed the hurt. This was who we were. The familial bond was too strong to ignore, but I was coming to realize just how alien our particular relationship must be, let alone what it would necessarily turn into as we strode forward together in this.

"Maybe when you're done with your bush, you could take a look at mine?"

Her lips parted in a small gasp that she couldn't catch in time, and open lust flashed across her face. Mom had a leg up on me still though; as she had rightly pointed out, this was nothing new to her. She had a better handle on her self-control than I did.

"Not fair," she said with a bemused look. She started to walk across the lawn and I really did start to wonder if I had poked the bear hard enough to warrant an attack. No matter, I didn't mind if it mauled me.

Today wasn't my lucky day, it seemed; she walked right past me, letting her hand trail across my shoulder on her way by. Without another word, she slipped through the patio door and disappeared inside, leaving me to pout alone while she took care of herself in her room.

High fences make good neighbours though, and ours were tall enough to ensure total privacy. Sunny days like that one are too rare to waste. I wiggled out of my shorts and touched myself slowly while the sun kissed my pussy.

*******

I stole a quick cat nap after getting myself off on the back patio and woke to the sound of Mama making dinner behind me in the kitchen. I roused gently and stretched, stiff from lying in the chair too long. It must have been about an hour and a half since I'd tipped Anna over the edge.

"There she is," Mom's voice came through the screened door. "Have a nice nap?"

"I did," I said sleepily. "Did you?"

She laughed. "I didn't lay down," she said. "I've never been big on Sunday naps."

"Mmm," I groaned contentedly. "I am."

"I noticed," she quipped.

It was hard to see her through the screen door, so I rolled off the reclined lounger and made my way inside, where that duplicitous asshole had laid her own trap for me.

"Oh fuck," I gasped.

The fact that I had picked that dress to impress Ruby really did speak to my generous nature. The thing hugged and snatched at her curves outright deliciously, riding over her beautiful hips and offering her ample bust up like it had been tailored for her singularly flawless body. It was an insane thing to be cooking dinner in, but her bare calves and the hint of thigh she flashed as she moved in front of the stove commanded my attention. With her hair clipped high and off her neck, she was devastatingly sexy.

"Set the table," she said, pretending she hadn't heard me. I didn't need to see her face to know that she was grinning like a rascal.

"Yes ma'am," I said slowly, entranced by the goddess I'd stumbled in on.

She had to be shaking her hips like that on purpose. It didn't take that much vigor to poke a stir fry around in a pan at all. Then again, I was too distracted to realize that I had set two knives at Mama's place and three spoons next to mine, so it was obviously working. There had to have been eyes in the back of her head, as all mothers are known to have; she kept stretching her neck as though it was sore any time I looked at her, drawing these long, beautiful lines from her almost-bare shoulders right up to her eminently kissable jawline. The temptation to slide up behind her, wrap my arms around her soft body, and feast at the soft spots under her ear was growing too painful to resist. I just needed to touch her. One touch. I could hold myself to that.

Under the pretense of slipping next to her to grab some glasses from the cabinet, I slid my hand in to claim the space at her lower back. I'm sure I said something stupid and obvious, but she saw through me and spun away the very moment I made contact, muttering something about needing something in the fridge.

But I had touched her. Sure, I had fallen asleep with her in my arms last night, but that was a platonic act of bonding. This was an intentional act of seduction. No, I don't know who was seducing who, but my intent was still there. I wanted her body in my hands, and I'd fired the opening salvo. It was the first collision in what would continue escalating to outright criticality. Eventually.

"This is done," she told me a minute later. "Go, sit. I'll bring yours over."

I did as I was told and flushed deeply as I realized how much I liked her 'do it now' voice. Yes, I had touched her, but the way she had carried herself since I walked in made it so crystal clear that the decision was never mine to begin with. She had willed me into the act.

What a fucking woman.

I hunched over my bowl and stared. Mama sat with her back straight, upright and proud, daring me to confront the squared neckline of that ridiculous dress. The long valley of her cleavage demanded, commanded, my attention. I gave it. I gave all of it. I'd give so much more just for one more millimeter of her creamy skin.

"How is it?" she asked without looking at me.

"Amazing."

"Really? Egg noodles and snap peas? You hate snap peas."

"They're delicious," I said to her tits.

"That's good to hear. I made plenty if you want more."

"Great," I breathed.

She took another bite, swallowing slowly, washing it down with a sip from her glass. I stared and slowly drew a single noodle into my mouth, knowing full well how dumb I looked with it dangling down my chin. I was being goaded, but I couldn't talk myself into giving a fuck.

She equipped her sultry, low tone and spoke slowly again. "Do you want more, Belle?"

"Yes."

Her lips tightened and she gave a small, barely-there nod.

My fork made a tiny clink as I set it down and my hands slipped below the table, out of her sight. She watched me do it placidly, studying my face with intent as my fingers first licked over my sweet, sticky slit. I let out a small sigh as I dug deeper into my underwear, laying my middle finger along the cleft of my pussy and sawing it up and down, pressing at my hungry hole without indulging that urge fully.

Mama leaned in by fractions of an inch. Her lips parted marginally. She laid one hand along her neck and slowly rubbed it back sensually as she watched. The motion hid parts of her that I needed to see as her forearm blocked too much bare flesh for my liking.

"Move your arm," I demanded.

"You're not being good."

I wasn't. I gasped as one finger slipped inside of me under the table. "No, I'm not."

"You need to be good."

"I don't want to."

She laid her hand back on the table and rose to full height in her seat. It was an utterly arresting sight, and she squared her shoulders to further sell the attraction.

"Your... your..."

"Shhh," she hushed me.

It was so hard to keep my eyes open; each time I crooked my finger, spastic, jittery sparks kept short circuiting my brain - my eyelids fluttered, my brow furrowed, my lips worked soundlessly. I panted like a bitch in heat for my mother's eye-watering body.

"T-take them out," I begged. "P... please fucking take them out."

I was so sure she might. If not now, when?

"No."

I whimpered. Muscles clamped down around my finger in time with my surging disappointment.

"Please. Please."

"Are you finished?"

"No."

She kept staring right into me, watching me fuck myself pathetically in front of a lukewarm bowl of shitty noodles, proud and imperious as she physically eclipsed me by doing nothing at all. Sitting there, haughty and smug. Daring me to cum in front of her. Unwilling to make it easy for me. I was soaked and needy.

She drew a deep breath that heaved her chest towards me, forcing the fabric hem of her neckline to strain. My toes curled, I shifted to fuck myself more comfortably. A second finger slid home as my other hand kept my shorts pulled out of the way.

"I think you should be," she said slowly.

"Do you w-want me to... F-fuck. Do you want me to be f-finished?"

She arched an eyebrow and repeated, "I think you should be."

"I... Mama," I whined.

She let her lips hang open a quarter of an inch as she allowed a wicked, agonizingly gorgeous smile to form. "Finish."

I groaned in agony and plunged deeper into myself with a wet, audible squelch.

"Now," she demanded. Her colour was rising to match my own rosy flush, but her hands stayed on the top of the table.

"M-Mama..."

"Belle. Now."

I was so close. I was so fucking close. The proximity terrified, electrified me. My palm was soaked, my panties drenched. Sloppy, unnerving splashes of sound filled the quiet kitchen along with my laboured breaths. I whined pitifully.

I took myself to within inches of the cliff's edge and prepared myself to jump off. With every scrap of effort I had left, I looked her straight in her eyes.

She kicked me from the ledge.

"Cum."

Oh, to be her faithful dog.

I howled and gurgled as my hand was bathed in whatever you believe women gush out when they squirt. I didn't notice while it was happening anyway - I nearly tipped out of my chair as I rocked through the nearly inexhaustible release of mind-altering chemicals pounding through my blood. It refused to end, I refused to withdraw my fingers. Anna disappeared from my mind's eye, and for eighty-two long seconds I became a deconstructed, shuddering wreck of myself.

In front of her. For her. Because of her.

Dimly, Anna's voice called to me through the fog. I had set my head on the cool tabletop and had my arms wrapped around myself in something akin to grief.

"Good girl," she sang. "Good girl."

It shouldn't have ended. Why did it always have to end? I hated that part at least as much as I was slavishly enthralled to it. All I ever wanted was to cum, but I always struggled with the feeling that something irreplaceable was detaching itself from me when it arrived. It was empty, hollow abandonment.

"Hey, baby," Anna said softly. Gone were the demanding notes that drew compliance out of me like water from a well. Pure, nurturing care ebbed in. A mother to a daughter. A lover to her muse. "I'm here. I'm here, sweetheart."

She leaned across the table and touched my head, prompting me to unfold myself. She fairly glowed with pride as I finally found her face.

"There's my girl," she said so softly.

"I... I..."

"Shhh. It's alright."

"I came," I admitted needlessly. "S-so fucking hard."

She beamed at me. "I saw."

"Was... Mama, was that okay?"

She bit her lip and grinned adorably, batting her eyes like she had watched me take my first steps. "Oh, honey, of course it was. Are you okay?"

I sat up enough to take her hand in mine. "I think so. I... made a mess I think." The seat under my bum felt damp.

"Do you want to get cleaned up?"

"I think so," I said. "Is that alright?"

A kind nod. "Of course. Why don't you go hop in the bath, 'kay?"

"I'll clean the chair up," I offered.

She shook her head. Of course. Of course.

"No, honey. I'll take care of everything. You run along now. We'll watch a movie when you're done or something. Sound good?"

I nodded hazily. "Uh huh."

She hardly waited until I was out of the room before leaving her seat and sinking to her knees next to the chair I had just fouled. She could have had me from the source, but she knew that. Even so, her chair scraped back before I was out of the room, and I can only guess at what she got up to once I left.

The warm bath water pulled me into a calm, sure sense of loving understanding. Whether I was being hunted, toyed with, or dragged into depths that she already wallowed in, it didn't matter. I'd become property if she demanded it. I'd become nothing. For her, I'd grovel.

Anything. Anything for her.

*******

It was hard to find excuses to fuck around during the work week. I did my shitty little job from home, taking calls from angry idiots for a credit card company while I loafed in bed or rotted on the couch. Not many people dream about being a human flogging post when they grow up, but finishing college hadn't worked out for me yet. I needed something to put money in the bank while I tried to muster up the courage to finish my last three credits. I'd get to it. Eventually.

Anna sold houses. Lots of them, especially to men who'd seen too much porn. Let's be real; she knew what she was working with.

"I think real estate might offer the best returns by dollar-per-inch-of-skin," she'd often joke. "Lots of people have to show way more than I do to make this kind of money. Hell, you should see how much commission an inch of cleavage gets you."

Easy for her to say. All she had to do was lean in a little when she handed them the pen and they'd sign up for anything.

At any rate, being busy kept us... well, busy. By the time I put in 8 hours at the screaming institute and she finished with a day of fake smiles for rich bozos, we were both burnt the fuck out. There were days where I almost forgot to cum altogether. I think I did miss Tuesday that next week, actually.

Mama laid on the couch and idly scrolled on her phone. I occupied a loveseat that completed the L-shaped set of furniture. Something inane played on the large TV that none of us were watching while a half-eaten pizza we'd ordered for dinner went stale on the kitchen counter.

She sighed, apparently just as bored as I was. "What are you doing over there?"

"Nothing," I said, thumbing through an endless feed of social media slop. "You?"

"About the same."

This was us more often than not. Two working girls recovering from their days by giving their grey matter some downtime. Comfy clothes. Shitty TV. Easy company. Big 'will they, won't they' vibes.

She shifted onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. She huffed. Pulled a leg up. Stretched it back out. Shoved another cushion under her armpit. Sighed loudly. I smirked as her ire rose in the corner of my vision, still flicking through moronic clips of plastic women doing the laziest viral dance moves you've ever seen.

Mama pouted and sat up.

"You okay?" I asked, craning my neck to look back at her.

"I'm tired of sitting on this stupid couch," she snapped. "I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

I dropped my phone onto my tummy and did my best to face her direction. "You wanna go somewhere?"

"No," she complained. "I don't feel like getting dressed again."

"Yeah. Same."

She swung her legs down and sat all the way upright, hugging a pillow into her lap as she glowered.

"Wanna watch a movie?" I suggested.

"I'd still be on this couch."

God, she was touchy today. She rarely got like this. "Long day?"

She gave a mirthless grunt. "Sorry," she said. "I know I'm being a bit of a bear."

"A Mama bear," I replied playfully.

She gave me a sidelong look that made it clear that she wasn't finding me cute at the moment. "Something like that," she said.

Sheesh. I wasn't getting anywhere. Then again, the whole point of buttons is to push them, right?

"Jeez, lady, I think you might need to get laid or something. Might take the edge off."

Her head whipped around quick enough to startle me. "Watch it."

"Or what? You'll fuck me?"

The hard set of her face said that a hot, angry fuck might actually be on the menu. I licked my lips. I was ready for it if she was.

"No," she said.

"Relax, Mama. I'm only kidding. Seriously though, maybe it might feel good to go upstairs and blow off some steam. Seems like you're a little cooped up."

I could tell that she was fighting the urge to rage, but the contest was still neck-and-neck within her. "I am," she admitted. "Today was just..."

"Long?"

"Long, yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I'll be alright. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a dick."

"You're not a dick," I argued. "It's fine. You had a shitty day. It happens."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It does."

She picked up the TV remote again and started scanning through the channels, still sitting tightly wound and seemingly irritated at the world. Goading her further was a risky play, but we had behaved ourselves all week. Sunday night's intensity had mostly cooled our passions down; the simmering romantic confusion had gone dormant, and my solo indulgences had been matters of maintenance since then. You know, routine masturbation. Very clinical. Just good upkeep.

The more Anna brooded, the more I became convinced that she'd been neglecting herself. The woman needed to cum. If she wasn't going to let me do it for her, the least I could do was bait it out of her. I needed a new play though; open revolt didn't hold much promise. I'd have to be slick.

I shifted my shoulders and propped myself up where I lay, taking care to ensure that my phone screen would catch Mom's eye next time she glanced over. Instagram was the first port of call. A dancing cutie shook her hips in a bright sundress in front of a rented mansion that all the best social media girlies pretended they owned. A busty siren preened at the edge of a pool in a bikini that was two sizes too small for her enormous chest. I watched that one twice - once for Mama, once for me. A moderately well-known pornstar tried her hand at the viral cucumber salad recipe that totally wasn't just grated vegetables in a bowl.

I kept flicking and the algorithm kept feeding a steady supply of big tits and pretty faces. Another chesty bimbo doing her makeup. A fan-site hottie shopped for furniture in a skirt that was way too short for Ikea. A dark goddess held her arm up and scraped non-existent armpit hair away with a sponsored razor. Flick, flick, flick. More pretty smiles, more gorgeous women, more naked flesh. Something had to give. I didn't know if Anna was watching, but I didn't want to be too obvious - I clicked the volume button three times.

"Hey babes," said a bubbly thing with perky tits crammed into an alluring one piece swimsuit. "Come with me to check out the new all-inclusive..."

I heard the leather seat cushion creak under Mama's butt. I knew I had her.

Flick.

A sports bra try-on haul.

Flick.

Four curvy influencers packed into a booth at a club.

Flick.

More skin.

Flick.

Lipglass smearing across a set of full, pouty lips and one wet kiss that popped with a loud smack.

Flick. Flick. Flick.

She was too quiet. This should have worked by now, but I had a kill-shot tucked up my sleeve. I closed the app and opened my photos - I clicked an album called 'nudie stuff lol'. She cleared her throat over my shoulder.

My ass in the same panties she had rinsed with cum and thrown at the wall a few weeks ago. A coy picture of my arm smushed across my tits, barely concealing my nipples. An artsy shot of me biting my lower lip that I'd shared on Reddit. Anna's tongue flicked over her lips loud enough to be heard.

My ass. My tummy. Me in a bikini, one cup pulled to the side to reveal a pale pink nipple.

My bare, clean shaven pussy.

A small sound escaped her throat and I finally looked back.

"Shit," I said, swiping the photos away and tucking my phone into my chest. "I'm sorry, I thought you were watching something."

"I was," she said in an impatient rush.

"Good show?"

Her eyes flicked to the TV where she had distractedly landed on a Spanish telenovella. She looked back with an indignant smirk. "Oh, the best."

"Yeah? What's it abou... MAMA!"

She dropped the pillow from her lap, pushed her knees apart, and shoved back into a deep recline. An exceedingly obvious sign of her enjoyment tented one long, hard ridge in her jammie pants. Did I say long? I meant breathtaking. I meant terrifying. I meant mouthwatering.

I scrambled around on the little sofa and draped myself onto the soft arm. This was the first time I had ever been able to glimpse the thing hard, still clothed or otherwise. My eyes kept getting wider and wider as I tried to make sense of the sheer scale of it. It shouldn't have been possible. It couldn't exist. How did she not pass out from lack of blood to the head? And the HEAD! I'd done hand-stuff with girls who had smaller fists than that thing. Okay, I don't know if that's true, but still!

"What the fuck?!"

She licked her lips lasciviously and stared me down in open challenge, daring me keep my eyes locked on a cock so improbable that I almost started to laugh. It would have passed for 'massive' when it was soft, but I couldn't quantify it with mere language now that she was erect. She ran a hand over the stiff beam running down her thigh. "Shut up," she laughed through heavy breaths. "Don't act stupid. It's not as adorable as you think it is."

"Mama! Be nice to me!"

"Ha!" she hacked as her fingers played up and down, her other hand scooping down to cup and gently roll her balls around as she stroked. "Little shit. Show me that pussy again."

"Y-you c... Mama, I was only teasing you!"

She let go of herself with one hand and snatched the remote up, activating the TV's screencast mode. "I know, and now you're getting what you wanted. Aren't you happy about that? Come on," she said with an impatient flick of her wrist towards the screen. "Let me see."

My face was suddenly very, very hot. I usually guarded the contents of my photos app religiously, and for good reason. I don't know if it's obvious yet, but I have a bit of a self-attraction complex. I like my body. I like to look at it. It makes me happy.

"Okay," I said with a dry mouth.

I suddenly felt quite small, rather silly. Nevertheless, I did as I was told and beamed the entire gallery of my nude folder onto the 65" TV mounted against the opposite wall. Mom moaned and gave herself a squeeze.

"That one," she commanded. I had no way of knowing which one she meant, so I went back to the bottomless closeup that had first broken her.

"This?"

She hummed low in her throat with guttural appreciation. "Mmmm, fuck. I really should take your phone away. Is this what you do all day?"

"No," I muttered. "And I'm 22, you can't take my phone away anymore."

"I don't know," she sighed as she continued to rouse herself through the thin material. "I think that says there's eleven hundred pictures in this folder." She wrapped her fist around a wad of fabric and cock head all at once. "You must love looking at yourself."

"Why don't we go through your camera roll then!"

"Not a fucking chance," she panted. The look on her face dripped with sultry indignance and her chest heaved with the labour of her rising urges. "Next."

I swiped.

I don't even remember how I managed to take a picture of myself from behind on all fours, back arched like I was ready to take a pounding in doggy style. I probably propped the phone up on a communications textbook I was meant to be reading. Whatever the case, I was confronted with the sight of my own holes in 4k, high-def resolution. Mama moaned hard. Like... really moaned. I was visibly wet in the photo, as I was at that moment too.

"Oh, f-fuck, baby," she hissed. "Who was this for?"

I swallowed. "I don't remember. I... I don't know."

Her tongue crept forward and she licked her lips all over again, rolling it over the soft pink flesh in wet, slow motions. She was licking my asshole. In her mind. She was imagining the taste of my holes. Even from a few feet away, I could see the wet spot spreading just above her knee.

"I'm taking it out," she announced, her hands already making for the waist of her lounge pants. "Look away or don't, but make your mind up right now."

She stared at me for three long seconds, waiting for my decision. By now it should come as no shock that my synapses were checking the fuck out.

I jerked into motion and started pushing my bottoms off; my mother made a devastatingly sexy sound of approval and started to strip her lower half bare with me.

All those long, heavy inches of hot, thick, meaty cock snapped free of her waistband and flung backwards; it clapped her in the tummy with a solid Thwack that made us both laugh nervously. Too heavy to stay sprung upright, it lolled in the air as she kicked her feet out of her pants.

You don't get it. You simply cannot understand. If I broke out a ruler and got a millimeter-accurate assessment of the thing, a real, in-depth survey, you wouldn't believe me. Fuck, I didn't believe the evidence in front of my own eyes. How can a thing like that be so imposing, so utterly fascinating in its brutish dimensions, yet so pretty and picturesque at the same time? And, I mean, fuck looking at it; what the hell were women even doing with it?! I felt a phantom cramp in my gut as I stared it down across the room. A welling bead of precum crowned her beautiful tip like one pearly drop of most-perfect sin.

She wrapped her hand around the base, leaving a still-unbelievable amount of her shaft bare between her thumb and forefinger.

I was vaguely aware that she was staring at me, probably taking some deep satisfaction in finally revealing herself to her counterpart in the transgressive pact we'd struck. I scrambled in my seat to copy her pose, widening my knees apart so that she could stare at my weeping pussy while I rubbed it for her. I didn't know what better compliment I could give. I should have grovelled. I should have kissed the ground at her feet.

Instead I said, "That's so fucking pretty, Mama. I love your cock."

She let out a long breath as though I had solved a riddle she was worried I might fail, and her hand began to move. "God, thank you, baby. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

The way that it all came out in a gusty rush made the last notes sound like she was thanking something else; her hand for making her feel so good, or her cock for enslaving her own daughter? No matter. I rubbed for her, and she did the same for me while my body continued to stream across a six-foot stretch of the living room wall.

"Show me more," Anna said with strained eagerness.

Thank you for your call, but Belle can't make it to the present right now. She has suffered incurable levels of neurological damage by virtue of the fattest fucking kilo of dick meat that has ever unfurled itself from a human being. Leave a message, and she'll get back to you after she's fucked herself stupid.

I unlocked my phone and lobbed it at her. I had better things to do with my hands, like get rid of my top so that I could become my mother's pornography. She made a greedy sound in the back of her throat as she snatched it up and started skimming the album for a video clip. Unfortunately, or very fortunately, she found one.

"Fuck this tight little pussy," my own voice whispered on video. I was pointing the camera at a mirror, holding my phone with one hand and pumping a cheap toy into myself with the other. The whole thing was shot from my point of view so that the mirror and my bent legs framed my drooling hole perfectly. "Oh, fuck, you're gonna make me cum."

"Ohhhh," Mom groaned. She palmed her still-clothed tit with one hand and stroked with the other, drawing these long, patient motions alllllll the way up and allllll the way down herself, smearing the runny liquid that she couldn't stop leaking from tip to base. "What a little fucking whore you are!"

"M-Mama, please!"

"Please what?"

Shit. I don't know. Just generally, I guess? "I..."

My voice cracked on screen and I let out an embarrassing sob-thing in real life. It was one thing to film yourself cumming, and another to watch it, and a whole fucking nightmare to have your parent find it. Having your mother massage her cock to it in front of you while she called you a whore?

I broke first.

I tried to form words uselessly as my knees twitched towards each other abruptly; my back tensed and I found myself cumming desperately with three fingers buried up in my hungry slit. Anna stopped rubbing so slowly and really started pumping - really, furiously beating a cock that was already barely strokeable with one hand alone. My orgasm wasn't such an arresting thing that I couldn't retain my senses a little bit; I heard her breathing get faster and more urgent, and watched as tight, shiny skin stretched over bulging veins.

"K-keep fucking... cumming... baby. That's - Fuck! That's it! Keep tou-touching that perfect, pretty pussy for... for your Mama. Come on, baby. Let me see that - ugh! - dirty little cunt cum for me."

I don't love the word 'cunt', but if that was her thing, all the more power to her. As long as she fucked me like one sooner or later, she could call it what she wanted.

My eyes watered and I had to wrestle with a rebellion in my own muscles as a second wave of sickly, hard-edged pleasure rolled right through the ebbing jitters of my first. Idiotic babbling noises issued from my choked windpipe and it was all I could do to keep one eye on Mom's precious weapon.

"Don't stop, oh baby, please don't fucking stop. Watch me. Watch Mama. Keep watching, baby, keep fucking looking at me. That's it. That's it, such a good girl. Such a pretty girl," she kept grunting, egging me on in a voice that was growing more insistent and demanding by the second.

We all do stupid things when we're horny. We put things that don't belong inside us. We get off in the wrong rooms. We fuck the wrong people. Say the wrong things.

My stupid thing, on that particular day, was to believe that I was in a position to make demands.

"Fuck me," I whined petulantly. "Mama, come fuck me, please!"

Whoops. Silly me.

She leapt off the couch and crossed the short distance between us with alarming speed. I honestly thought I might get what I wanted, but the closer she got with that beat stick in her fist, the more I realized how unprepared I was. Optimism swiftly gave way to terror as she brought it closer, closing the last feet as my mind switched to full-on OhShitOhShitOhShit mode. I hate to be a punk, but I couldn't have fucked that thing if I tried.

Luckily, that wasn't her intent.

"Fucking SLUT," she roared, taking my hair in her hands roughly and yanking my head up to face her rictus sneer before she lobbed a wad of spit into my face. "Dirty, filthy, nasty little whore!"

"Mama!" I exclaimed. I'm sure it sounded like terror, and my eyes were certainly wide with near-panic, but let's not kid ourselves - I was so hot for it.

"You think you get to fuck this?" she asked violently, pulling my head forward to face her piledriver up close and personal. She wailed on it angrily, completely lost to her senses and delivering the kind of madness I had been eager to experience first hand. She let go of her cock and slapped me clean across my spit-smeared cheek. "You think this fucking thing is for you? Huh?"

I mean... kinda? I tried to reach for it and earned another pair of slaps; one for my hand, one more for my cheek.

"Keep your fucking hands down," she growled. "You don't get to touch this. You don't EVER get to fucking touch this without permission. Do you understand me, Belle? Nod, nod your fucking head."

I would have, but she cranked my head back and forth by the hair anyway. I cackled maniacally, lost in the absurdity. To see a cock of such equine proportions leaking a steady, unending, drooly stream of sticky fluid and see her heavy balls swinging low and wild from a fat, sagging sack, all framed by the soft, milky, thick thighs of a statuesque woman while she jerked my head around and slapped me across the face was... I don't know, call me old fashioned; I think it's romantic.

"Ahhhhh," I droned with my mouth wide open and my tongue laid out for her, cock drunk and silly.

She seethed. Oh, God, she fumed.

"Dumb... fucking... whore," she grunted, beating her meat with savage intent. Gobbets of thin, watery cum-stuff flew from her tip and sprinkled my skin; I tried to collect it up with my fingers but earned one more crack across my face for it, and a wad of spit fired into my open mouth for good measure. "No... fucking... hands," she panted. "Stupid - Gah! FUCK! Stupid bitch!"

Her pendulous sack suddenly started to hike upward, hauling her bulbous testicles closer to her body over the course of another handful of strokes. She was wholly enraged now, completely unrecognizable as the woman who made me pancakes and watched rom-coms with me. This demon was new, and I very much enjoyed getting to know her.

The yawning slit that bisected her blunt, barbaric cockhead called to me - time seemed to slow and lose meaning as she hurled course slurs at me and held me in place. I dug my nails into the cushions, kept my mouth open, howled with mad laughter.

The leaking emissions ceased to run. Two pumps, three, four more.

The first surge caught me just below my Adam's apple. The second splashed with startling force against one collarbone. The third pulse made those two feel like warning shots as her fourth and fifth took me in the cheek, chest, and chin - unnervingly powerful and unnaturally long jets of cum that only thickened with each second-long blast. She roared, actually roared, and bucked forward as her body just refused to stop dredging sludgey, thick, steaming jizz from somewhere deep inside her. She continued hosing me down with the pressure of a hot tub nozzle and I started to actually get concerned, truly, about what was happening. Her eyes were firmly clamped shut and her lips were peeled back as she made this foreign un-syllable sound through her clenched jaw. And still, bafflingly, worryingly, the cum kept pounding into my body, clinging to my skin even as every new spurt pressure-washed the last one away.

"I... Baby, I..." she started grunting as she fought for breath, lost from her senses, rinsing me down.

"Mama," I said, hacking next as a single rope found its mark between my lips. Fuck, it was so thick. So hot, salty. I sputtered and forced the load forward over my lips. "Mama, fuck!"

The spray finally started to subside and I knew she was losing steam by the slackening grip in my hair. Her cock, too, started to soften; still monstrous, but now with a bit of rubbery wobble in place of its steely rigidity. Mama teetered and I reached up to guide her hand off my head.

"Sit," I urged. Her eyes were still closed as she gasped hard and rode out a few additional tremors. She heard my voice from deep in the fog and sank right down to the floor with her back against the other couch. Her head fell back as she started coming back down to earth.

I was a ruin. I've seen feature-length gangbang starlets with less cum on their bodies, not to mention corn syrup that ran better than her goo. I wavered on the brink of a body horror moment as I confronted what she had done to me. I was plastered. Drenched. Absolutely defiled from forehead to belly button. Some of it ran, some of it stuck, more than a little clung to me in disgustingly thick globs. All of it smelled potently like raw, distilled sex. My hand trembled as I dipped my fingers into a pasted volume sitting high on my left boob.

I was still holding my fingers up to the light, watching the way it moved between my thumb and middle finger when she finally caught up to me. "B-Baby?"

"Hi Mama," I said absently, licking my lips clean.

It was eerily quiet. She waited on tender hooks, sweaty and unsteady, as she watched to see what I'd do, but I was deep in a fugue-state. My mind was completely empty, perfectly tranquil, one calm sheet of crystal glass. That was for the best. Any thoughts that I might have had could have sullied the moment. No, I was totally, finally, perfectly happy. I wore my mother's cum. I played with little bits of it. I studied the way it sat on my flesh.

"Are you okay, honey?"

"Uh huh."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Is it always this much?" I asked in airy, spacey tones.

"No. Not always."

"Is it ever more than this?"

Concern edged her reply. "Sometimes. Belle, baby, we should... we should clean you up, sweetheart. Let me get you a towel, okay? Just stay right there. I'll... I'm gonna grab a cloth. Hang on, hun, I'll be right back. Don't move."

As she climbed to her unsteady feet and disappeared out of site, I slid to the floor carefully to make my bliss complete.

I pressed my hands onto my naked tummy. I started to move them. Up. Up. Up, I gathered all my earnings. Up to my chest, up into my hands. Up to my lips. Over my tongue. Down my throat. Into my tummy.

Anna nearly broke down when she returned to find me still sucking the dregs of her foul, illicit evidence off myself, lying on the floor, my gut full of her fetid cum.