On My Face

For two hours, I kneel in the kitchen, taking it as Mom's hips smash against my face. One harsh, thumping smack after the next, my cheeks slowly turn pink with a mild stinging sensation. I can only lift my hands, steadying myself upon her hips.

I moan in submission, offering Mom pleasurable vibrations in the hopes of appeasing her aggressive yearning. Mollifying her ravenous slamming takes time, and she bombards me all the while with harsh words that make me moan in response.

When her cock starts to pulse, Mom growls, a low rumble of aggressive lust. Her hips continue to slam, but only for a brief moment longer. Mom's breasts heave with every breath as she abruptly yanks backwards on my hair, pulling her cock out.

Her free hand snaps to her cock, stroking herself hard and fast as the first pulse of her cum hits me in one eye. I flinch, on reflex, but I take it, even as Mom's second shot more intentionally hits me in the other eye, blinding me under her cream.

I can feel her aiming, as she shoots directly against each of my eyes again, before starting to drench my face, completely. Eighteen long, dense ropes of cum pump from her shaft, covering every millimetre. I simply hold myself steady, taking it.

“Tongue out, faggot!” Mom pants breathlessly, and I obediently stick it out for her, tasting her cream. The flavour is rich and sweet, with a thick and creamy texture. Still fluidic, but not as thin as water. I tilt my head up, holding out my tongue.

Mom drags her cock across my tongue, using it to clean her shaft, leaving drops of her milk on my tongue. I moan softly at the flavour, the reward, and Mom growls, the sound now low and warm, a rumbling chortle of arousal — and amusement.

“You like that, don't you, slut?” Mom demands, “Mom's cream all over your whore face, the privilege of a tiny bit on your little bitch tongue?” I moan affirmation, and Mom scoffs, but chuckles. I can imagine her smiling, she sounds as if she is.

“Clean your face, fag. I need to use you again,” Mom commands. My hands lift immediately without complaint, rubbing in her cream. I clean my eyes first, in the process, so I can see, looking up to renew eye contact, finding Mom smiling down.

When my face and hands are clean and dry, Mom's smile cocks to one side, turning into a smug smirk. She strokes my hair with newfound tenderness, albeit it may be brief, since she needs a second release. I look up, just leaning into her touch.

“You are such a good little faggot, aren't you?” she asks rhetorically, “All right. Since you behaved so well and took it all, without any whining, I'll give you the privilege to make one decision about how I use you for my second round of service.”

“Thank you, Mom!” I answer gratefully, “What are my choices?”

“Would you rather request I use you in a certain way, or have my promise that I will unload in your mouth and allow you to drink my milk?” she asks. Probably the easiest question I've ever been asked in my entire life, I smile up at her happily.

“Milk, please, Mom!” I reply, and Mom grins at me in earnest, her teeth gleaming in the kitchen's artificial electric lights.

“Very well, slut,” Mom nods, “I promise to feed you my milk when you earn it. You will have the privilege to drink every drop. Are you ready to render further service, now, faggot?” I nod immediately, and her fingers slip back into my hair.

Author's Note:
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