A Normal Day

Your mother had changed out of her soiled abaya. She wore a different headscarf too. She was draped in more earthly colours now, deep reddish browns.

“Did you shower?” you had to ask as you saw her slipping on her shoes at the door. She was about to head out to the market. There was surprise in her eyes at the question and she shook her head. “Ah so you’re still wearing my cum under there,” you confirmed, moving up to her and pressing your hand to her chest. You slid your palm downwards, groping her tits through the layers of her clothing, imagining how it would stick to her skin (though your cum mostly likely would have dried out by now.) All your mother could do was let you feel her up and she shivered against your touch.

“Yes… your holy semen shouldn’t be washed off,” she told you.

“Unless?”

“Unless it’s with my tongue,” she added. She really was paying attention to the Quran’s commands. Good little slut. She had cleaned up her face.

“You’re a most pious woman, umi,” you complimented her and gave a firm pat on her ass. She wore a weary smile and grabbed her keys.

“Do you want juice?” she asked, and you were confused now. “Orange or apple?” Right. She was going to the store.

“Apple,” you decided. She nodded and left the house.

--

Your father preferred orange juice but he had a lot of preferences to rearrange all of a sudden. He tried to enjoy breakfast, and mostly he did, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away as he watched his son devouring the eggs. Eggs that he paid for. That his wife had cooked.

“Ahyan!” He slapped the kitchen table and his son, you, snapped to attention. He seemed surprised by the feeling he just had. An annoyance, perhaps, looking at your face. But he couldn’t understand why and took a deep breath.. It wasn’t your fault that he was feeling this strange way. “What are your plans for today?” he asked, voice calm, recovering a bit and casually pushing his food around the plate.

“More scripture,” you told him. “I’m thinking of studying religion full time. To be closer to God and understand his way.” Impressed, your father forgot about his earlier ill feelings and smiled widely.

“Is that so?” he said, beaming. “That is… unexpected but I can’t say it’s not a relief.” He drank the apple juice and wiped his mouth. “You were always uncertain about the future, but I see you found your calling now yes?”

“Oh yes indeed, baba,” you smirked, grabbing your mother as she passed by and pulling her into your lap. You saw the change in your father’s eyes now as he witnessed his son openly grope his wife. As was the right of the son. “Umi’s devotion really opened my eyes,” you went on, kneading her breasts with one hand while you ate another mouthful of eggs with the other. “Tell father what you’ll be doing today.”

Your mother, face red but still seated on your lap obediently as you pressed your palm into her tit, stared at her husband helplessly.

“Orgasms,” she began. “Five times a day I must… I must bring myself to orgasm.”

“No need to … repeat the teachings of the Quran to me,” said your father quickly, nerves tinging his voice. “I know very well-”

“How did you pray this morning?” you prompted your mother, enjoying how she squirmed against your erection pressed to her soft ass.

“I… put your penis between my breasts until… until you orgasmed,” she recounted, a little breathless. “All over me.”

The pained looked on your father’s face was wiped away as he took another cooling swig of juice. She stared down at his plate and gave a strong nod.

“Yes your mother… she is a pious woman. It’s one of the reasons I married her,” he stated. “I must get off to work.” And the chair legs squeaked and your father stomped out of the room. Out of the house.

“Ahyan, the dishes,” your mother said, nodding at the sink where she had been running the tap. You gave her bottom another pat and let her go back to her wifely duties. She would go on with her day. Just another normal day.