Actual Breakfast

Your mom wanted your cock so much it hurt. Literally. You were oversensitive to the point of pain, even if you kept hardening in your mother’s mouth. Kept encouraging her to suck harder, the woman’s thirst seemingly unquenchable.

“Umi...umi!” you had to call to her, and you couldn’t believe you were making her stop giving you a blowjob. Cumming in your sister’s ass had just been too much. You pulled the woman up with your hands and though she whined in complaint to not be tasting your cock she settled somewhat when met with your lips. It was a strange mixture of flavours inside your mother’s mouth… the milk… the pussy juices… the cum… the whorish moaning… it was an arousing concoction and you winced at of your stupid dick straining your empty balls.

“Good morning, Ahyan,” she said as your deeply inappropriate kiss broke. She seemed to reawaken from her morning horny stupor, though greedy hands still grasped at your cock between your bodies. She noticed how you gritted your teeth and let your dick go. It slapped wetly on your stomach. “Oh… you’re sore. I’m sorry,” she said, planting another soft kiss on your lips in apology. She finally rolled off you then, but that pressed her into Fareeha’s back, so she slid over you again, dragging her sweaty tits across your chest to get out of the bed. “I’ll take a quick shower then make you kids breakfast,” said your mostly naked mother, hands moving to the side of her neck so she could loosen her head scarf. She took one more longing look at your spit soaked cock, smiled at her her naked pregnant daughter who had fallen back asleep, then left your bedroom.

You father had already left for work by the time you and your sister had gotten dressed to get go have breakfast. Fareeha pointed out that, being at home, in private with only family, she ought to just stay naked. But you found you preferred the normality of everyone staying clothed, at least for now, and your sister obliged her perverted little brother and wrapped herself back up like a secretary, slutty little present.

Breakfast went relatively eroticism free. Relatively. You mother still kept watching you hungrily as you ate. Fareeha would idly stroke at the valley between her boobs with her long fingers, reminiscing about thirsty lips, or perhaps thinking the stimulation might make her produce more milk for later. Your erection managed to go away, and the throbbing had dulled then gone. The only soreness you felt was in your thighs and calves from all the manoeuvring and positioning you had to do in bed last night trying to satiate two Muslim cumsluts. You took an extra hefty second helping of protein rich ful medames.

You’re not sure what your sister did after breakfast, but you had retreated to your room. It smelled of sex in there. Stunk of it, and though you opened a window you secretly revelled in the soaked aroma of motherly and sisterly taboos. You made some minor corrections in the Book. Browsed the internet for a bit and watched some random videos. Lunch time rolled around and there was a polite knock on your door-frame.