Mouth

For two hours, Mom rolls her hips, her pace slow and smooth, patient and even kind. Her cock slides across my tongue, on each drive, warning me to breathe in as she starts. I fill my lungs with the savoury aroma of her musk, taking it to the hilt.

Mom praises me as she uses me, telling me what a good faggot I am. I moan for her as she calls me that, my lips stretched a bit too taut to smile. She tells me how proud of me she is, taking her entire cock, being a good slut for her, as she uses me.

Keeping my eyes locked on hers, Mom smiles down at me with pleasure and pride. She tells me how happy she is with me, what a good whore I am for maintaining eye contact with her. Her hips roll, keeping her promise to go slow, and be gentle.

My mouth stretched around her, I can feel my throat conform to her shape, even before her cock starts to pulse. When the pulsing starts, Mom pulls her hips backward, cupping my head in both hands to steady me. Her shaft withdraws, still slow.

Her hips halt, with her crown most of the way in my mouth, yet not fully. Mom's eyes remain focused on mine, while she delicately massages my temples with her thumbs. “Okay, faggot, Mom has some milk for you, now. Drink every drop, slut.”

I moan in the affirmative, even before the first pulse jets into my mouth. My eyes flutter and widen, and I stare up at her, as the rich sweetness and thick, creamy texture, register. I flex my tongue, experiencing it more, as a second river lands.

I drink hungrily, swallowing after the third, and after every third thereafter. Six times, I need to swallow so that my lips won't overflow with her milk. Her load is incredible, both wonderful and heavy, heavy enough I can feel it in my stomach.

“There you are, there's a good faggot,” Mom murmurs down to me, her tone one of love and pride, the same tone she had when I first swam alone. Swimming's a passion, but there was a time I was afraid to do it without one of them holding me.

I smile up at her as she draws the last drops of her cream out to the crown, letting her cock stand free in front of my face. Looking up at her, I lean forward, rising up higher on my knees. I extend my tongue, and slowly, lovingly lick it from her.

“Thank you for letting me drink your milk, Mom,” I murmur, using the word she used. I never knew why they had started to call it cock milk, but now, now I get it. I knew it was unusually nutrient-dense, but the rich flavour and the creaminess?

Those qualities were ones I hadn't been aware of. My eyes focus on her cock, then raise back to Mom's face. I tilt my head, sliding my tongue up her underside from hilt to helm. “Do you need more service, Mom? You're still so hard right now.”

“I do, whore. Are you ready to provide me with the rest of the service I need from you?” she asks, and I nod immediately, soliciting a bright, satisfied smile. “Good faggot. You know your place. Do you still need me to be gentle with you, whore?”

“I would prefer it,” I admit, looking up at her as I kiss a path down her cock, all the way to the base, and then offer a slow, reverent lick up one side. “You've already been so kind and gentle, though. You should just skull-fuck me. If you want to.”

“Mm,” Mom moans audibly in pleasure at the mere notion of it, “An excellent idea, little slut, but there are other options. I'm not always going to be in that mood. You will need to learn to service my needs in every manner that I might ask for.”

“I'll let you worship me for a moment, while I decide what I want,” Mom says. I smile appreciatively, and Mom massages my scalp with her fingers in my hair. She watches as I kiss my way down one side of her cock, then lick slowly back up it.

Author's Note:
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