Indulge

Once, in a game of drunken truth or dare, you'd admitted that you had all sorts of raunchy thoughts about your mum. You'd gotten a lot of jokes and teasing about it, but by the next morning, everyone else had forgotten. Except you, of course.

She was a tall woman. Not as tall as you, but that's not saying much. Her hair was long and glossy, falling down past her shoulders. It was purple, and she often had it done up in a loose ponytail. Many people asked if she dyed it, but you'd never seen her with a different colour, even in old photographs.

Her line of work as a cook had left her body with a nice layer of chub around the edges, but most of it went to her boobs. From the way she'd complain to your sister, you knew they were F cups. Knowing nothing about the subject of bra sizes, you had no idea what that might mean, but they're bloody big. Her ass was nothing to sneeze at either, all things considered.

Her eyes, often hidden behind those oval glasses of hers, were a similar blue to yours. Lighter, and a bit gray, but the resemblance was there. And her lips, a pale red that you found entrancing, were still moving.

"David?"

"Bwuh- yes, yup, what's up?"

"Could I taste your cock sweetie?"

Twice. She'd asked twice. You look around, searching for cameras or a prank show crew. But when you looked back, all you see is your mother standing there, her mouth half open and eyes locked on your dick.

You nod.

She moves closer. It's unlike Ava's catlike crawl. In a way, it almost looks like she's drunk. Swaying from left to right. Beneath her frilly blouse, you can see them shaking. Her breasts, constrained by the custom sports bra and moving slightly out of sync with her hips. Your vision is filled by her shaking form, and your weakening cock shudders back to life.

She squats down. The fabric of her jeans goes taut around her cushiony thighs, straining against her ass. Her hand, the one not still holding her keys, reaches up for your cock. In one deft movement, she rips the condom off. The one still covered in Ava's juices. It drops to the floor as your mother exposes her prize to the air.

Her tongue darts out, curling around her lips. She makes a wet smack, and opens them wide. You watch a line of drool strain between those pillowy lips, only to snap as her tongue extends out again. She's so close, you can feel her breath on your cock. Deep, long breaths. Like she's meditating. Covering your cock in the smell of her mouth.

Her head dips forward, lifting her tongue so that it sits underneath your cock. As if guiding it. Raising it up with that tendril from her mouth. She pulls back, painting the underside of your glans. Out, and in, luxurious strokes up and down your cock, but never allowing it to pass into her lips.

You're hard now. The previous orgasm is all but forgotten as the veins of your member bulge with new strength. You're leaned back against the countertop, the pleasure rippling over your skin like static charge. Your hands clench the edge, and you grit your teeth, reeling from the teasing on your sensitive dick.

Just as you're about to speak, or to move. To ask her to speed up or slow down, she moves in. In one smooth stroke, her lips glide over your cock and bump against your crotch. Her cheeks press inward, and you feel the air around your cock being pulled inwards. Her throat massages the head. Her cheeks rub the side. The pressure is so intense. It's as if she were sucking your cock clean off.

It's all so fast. Too fast. Your eyes fling open, looking down at your own mother. Your own mother. Your own mother!

You?

Her?