Holstered

As my mouth travels up and down the length of Mom's cock, I savour the sound she makes. The delicate, airy hum, when my lips wrap around her hilt, and I swallow on it. The low, warm growl, each time I flex my tongue wide as I slide down it.

I enjoy the way her eyes flutter shut for just a heartbeat, each time my mouth reaches her crown and I grind the tip of my tongue into her frenulum. It isn't easy, flexing my tongue that much against the intrusion of a cock as thick as Mom has.

When I feel the first pulse, I force myself to work even harder. My mouth slides faster on her shaft, smoothly rising up to her crown before diving back to her hilt. Her eyes focused on mine, I make sure Mom can see, and feel, my want to please.

I don't need to, but I want to. The taste of her on my tongue is wonderful, her musk a pleasant aroma filling up my lungs, as I bob. The pulsing of her cock becomes harder and harder, and her fingers flex on my head, fighting some internal war.

She doesn't say anything, but her eyes remain focused on me. On the one hand, I'm proving I can handle my duties, Mom can relax, can enjoy me. On the other, she's almost ready to blow, and failure at a critical moment, that is not unheard-of.

The solution, at least for me, is a simple one. As her cock pulses with ever more intensity, ever more urgency, I force my mouth faster, harder, on Mom's cock. I coil every muscle in my body as I prepare myself, my arms around Mom's thighs.

I don't let her see what I am planning to do in my eyes. I want it to be a pleasant surprise, when I strike my way downward onto her. As she nears her release, I flex every muscle I can toward one single goal, diving down and yanking myself, hard.

My lips race down Mom's cock like lightning, so hard and quick that when I slam to the hilt, my mouth doesn't stop. Upon reaching it, my head tilts, and my jaw flexes, as I force my mouth wider. Mom's jewels slide past my lips, onto my tongue.

I can see nothing but the trimmed hair and soft skin at her base, now. My arms around her, holding my breath, my lungs achingly full with the scent of her, I splay my fingers and hold. I cross my wrists behind Mom's sacrum, pressing firmly.

Locked in place by my arms, Mom's fingers curl in my hair, as she gasps in shocked rapture. The first pulse of her cream floods the lowest quarter of my throat, as I start to swallow on her. My throat massages her from Mom's hilt to her helm.

“Work your t-” Mom starts to say, before feeling my tongue flexing wide underneath her jewels as I start to suck gently, focusing on her pleasure. “Oh, fuck ... you sweet little faggot!” Mom moans involuntarily above me, her fingers splaying.

“You were really determined, weren't you, you whore?” Mom's growl is intense, a low, warm rumble, as her fingers start to twitch, the feather-light contact turning to iron. “Take it, then, you fucking faggot! Take every drop of my milk, slut!”

I hold my breath, and clamp my arms around Mom's thighs and hips. My heartbeat races, my throat fills and empties in rhythmic succession as I swallow, over and over. I can feel the weight of her heavy, massive release, entering my belly.

My throat conforms to the shape of her cock, looking like nothing but a sleeve for it. I hold myself in position until the pulsation subsides, and swallow a few more times. Mom's fingers pull on my head, until the low, rumbling growl issues.

“Up, faggot! You need air!” Mom's growl is almost a snarl, a tangled mass of concern, love, lust, and pride. I unlock my arms, groaning low as I shift my palms to the front of her thighs. As Mom pulls my head up, I push, until I can breathe.

I gasp desperately for air around her, breathing in her aroma. Mom's grip on my head relaxes, but she doesn't stop the upward motion, pulling my mouth up her length. Her hips roll backwards to help, pulling herself from my mouth fully.

“Fuck! I've never had anyone holster me on their own!” Mom swears staring down at me as I our eye contact is renewed, and stroking my hair back tenderly. “You must let me handle that, next time, faggot! You could've really hurt yourself!”

“Yes, Mom,” I murmur submissively, “Sorry, Mom.” She shakes her head quickly, petting my hair affectionately, before cupping my cheeks with her hands. Her thumbs brush along my cheekbones, as if she's brushing tears out of my eyes.

“Don't apologise, slut, it was wonderful,” Mom assures me, “Just not so wonderful to be worth you hurting yourself. It is not easy to holster, and it's safer to let the one with the cock lead that, okay?” I nod quietly, looking up into Mom's eyes.

“I love you, and I'm so proud of you, faggot,” Mom says firmly, her words a benediction of approval and contentment as she looks at me, “I am going to need a second round. That was extraordinary. Are you willing to service me, again, slut?”

I nod immediately, and she smiles. “Good. Thank you.”

Author's Note:
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