Coming Home

The family car was quiet inside as it eased to a stop at a red light. Your mother shifted in her seat again. It was obvious she was feeling the cum leaking out of her pussy. Your cum. The evidence of your shared worship at the mosque. The congregation had been eager to break off and go home after the reading. Few pleasantries were exchanged before everyone left the carpark. You wondered what your mother was thinking…

“Ahyan,” she began, breaking the silence for you. “I want to… thank you.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at her. The smile on her face was like a line. “To see how devout you have become to the scripture… and the way you have helped guide me to true devotion as well… you are… amazing.”

Her thoughts seemed jumbled but she got her words out, and you couldn’t help grinning at her ridiculous praise. She obviously loved getting fucked by you. Loved taking your cock. But it was unbecoming to be explicit and crude about it. She still wanted you to know though, and her euphemistic tendencies held. “I hope you will continue to be my guide on the righteous, holy path of Islam,” she went on. “That you will make sure I worship to the fullest degree.” There was an urgency to her voice, as if she wanted to ensure that this would all keep happening. You realised then that she had seen the way you looked at the other women in the mosque. She was jealous. She was afraid of losing you to others. She didn’t want to share. This made you smile and it took an impatient toot of a horn behind you to realise the light had turned green.

You drove for a quiet couple of seconds as your mother sat in her guilt laden silence.

“Of course, mom,” you finally said, eyes on the road but tracking her reaction in your periphery. “You’re the best slut I’ve ever seen. The way you were moaning for my cock in front of everyone… I couldn’t be more proud of the whore you’ve become.” There was a mixture of relief and shame to your mother but you knew she was smiling. And leaking.

“Thank you, Ahyan,” she nodded quietly. Your response had been satisfactory. A melodic chirping suddenly filled the air and you were confused until your mother took out her ringing phone. She seemed surprised by whoever was calling and answered after a moment. “Hello? Yes… oh my!” She sounded genuinely worried and was listening intently, nodding but not speaking. “Of course… no no of course it’s no trouble at all,” she assured the caller. “You always have a home here, you know that. Okay. Yes we will have everything ready. Bye!”

She hung up and the phone sat in her lap. You turned a corner then glanced over to her, the woman’s expression hard to read.

“Who was that?” you had to ask. She looked at you in surprise, as if she forgot you were there.

“Oh! It was Fareeha,” she said, a little excitement creeping into her voice. “Your sister is coming home.”