Praying Together

The time came. You sensed her before she knocked and put your book away. They were timid raps against the wood and you smiled.

“Come in,” you called out. The woman, clad in her modest dress as always, swathed from head to ankle, slipped into your room and quickly shut the door behind her. Her unnecessary stealth made her feel silly and she tried to relax as she stepped deeper into your den. Only the bedside lamp was on. It provided a mood to the room that wasn’t lost on your mother.

“Ahyan,” she said, almost a greeting, watching you and swallowing nervously. You were laying in bed, propped up with some pillows. “You are… ready for prayers.” Her eyes were fixed on your upright erection. You were ready. You were naked.

“Indeed,” you agreed, unable to help yourself and grabbing hold of your pole and giving yourself a few sweet strokes. There was a flicker in your mother’s eyes, standing there by your bed. At first you figured it was desire, then she took a step away.

“Are you sure you want to… pray this way?” she asked, despite your obvious display. “Do we… need to?” Her **** was a good act, but you could sense something else at play. She wanted you to tell her what to do.

“Umi, don’t you want to be closer to God?” you smiled, then reached out for her. “Let us pray together. And praise Allah. As mother and son.” That was enough for her, mom taking your hand almost before you finished speaking and letting herself onto your bed. The springs creaked from her added weight and she maneuvered her way to your legs.

“I shall make wudu,” said your mother, mostly to herself, trance-like in a way. Her mouth was watering. She was ready to clean your instrument first, as was the ritual.

“We’ll make wudu together, umi,” you said, guiding her a different way. You made her turn around, putting your hands on her hips, swinging her legs over. She was uncertain but ever compliant and got into position. The 69th Wudu, you had decided to call it in the book. She knew it, of course. And you felt her breath on the tip of your cock as she gripped it in her sweating hand. For yourself you unwrapped your present, pulling up her dress like a curtain. She wasn’t wearing underwear and already leaking. You wanted to enjoy the sight of her bald pussy for a few more delicious moments but your mother proved a distraction. Her mouth was already on you, tongue bathing her son’s cock with her ready spit. The woman’s hunger was apparent. The way she drooled and slurped loudly, almost proudly, had you stiffening more in her sweet mouth. She was so devout and it was worth praising her efforts.

You pulled her hips down, lowered her dripping lips to your own and tasted her flowing arousal. It was almost a gush, your mother’s delicious fluids dripping down your chin as she moaned around your cock. You wondered if it was possible to get addicted to female juices because you couldn’t get enough of hers. The way she quivered against your mouth while still trying to diligently service your throbbing member was immensely satisfying. The combination of her suctioning and the deep wonderful musk of her wetness had you on a knife’s edge. Luckily your own work was racing your mother to her first orgasm of the night. The telltale wiggle of her butt as her body’s need for you ground against your lips urged you on. You were eyeing that other hole of your mother’s. Tight and puckered and so completely and deliciously forbidden by the Quran. Later. You slid your tongue down and pressed against her clit and she had to spit you out and squealed.

Cum for me Umi. Cum in your son’s mouth. You almost willed her orgasm into existence with pure thought, but really it was your tongue on her bud and her intense, shameful arousal at riding your face that brought your mother over the edge. She cried out, letting herself feel the rolling pleasure she was **** to have, that she had to experience now several times a day by her son’s command. Tonight’s made her sweat, left her breathless and trembling as she dropped against your naked body, hot cock resting on her cheek. She had the presence of mind to nuzzle your meat, the woman breathing through her mouth, panting still. It’s fine. You had enough of her mouth for now…

“Umi,” you said, the woman raising her scarfed head up, attention gotten. “We’re clean now,” you went on. It was confusingly right and wrong, your genitals covered in each other’s sloppy saliva. “Let us pray. Deeply.” You had to guide her again with your hands, lifting her waist and maneuvering the put out woman onto her back. Her post orgasmic daze and learned subservience made getting her into position so easy. All the days of teasing her with your cock had the woman more willing than her almost vacant stare let on. You pulled up her dress high enough to show off her flat stomach and you ran your hand over, brushing a finger over her cute little innie belly button. It matched her picture perfect pussy, still slick with your spit and her oozing wetness. You parted those lips with your fingers, admiring her from this different angle and loving her breathy anticipation. She was watching you, sitting there between her legs now, your hard cock bobbing there threateningly. She realised she had to say something.

“Ahyan… my son… I don’t know about this,” she muttered.

“Hmm?” you raised your eyebrows and saw the fearful glimmer in her eyes.

“We… we’re mother and son… I’m not sure that we should be doing this,” she said. You swallowed, wondering if something had gone wrong with the spell of the book. Did you not get the wording right? Was this not going to work? For a second you felt ridiculous and foolish, but then the reality of what got you this far settled back in. Your mother had willingly climbed into your bed. She held your cock in her mouth just moments ago and the taste of her pussy was still on your lips. Now her legs were spread for you and as she gazed up at her son, that fear you saw in her eyes wasn’t because she was scared of you. She was scared of herself. Of what she was going to become once she finally let you have her. It was easy enough to test her resolve as you moved forward and let your meat drop onto her bald mound. She let out a gasp, eyes widening. The woman bit back her lust.

“Don’t you want to pray, Umi?” you asked, restraining yourself as well, feeling her wet heat against your hardness. She was shivering and trying not to move, eyes locked onto where you rested against her opening.

“Ahyan… please…” she murmured, trying to fight herself. Her will power was strong. Or she was just frozen. So you kissed her. The woman was surprised, squeaking against your lips, but soon she was sliding her tongue into your mouth. She was melting. “My son…” she panted, gently rolling her hips, pressing her swollen mons against you. “I… I want you…” she confessed, then swallowed and corrected herself. “I want you to pray with me…”

You smiled and aligned your head.

“Then let us pray,” you pressed forward, cock parting her delicate lips. ”Praise be to Allah.”

She moaned with you as she felt your wonderful intrusion filling her. She tried to keep focus on her prayers.

“P-praise… praise be to…. Be to… AhnnghH!” she moaned as you finished feeding every thick inch of yourself into your mother. You were .. comfortable. It was tight and cozy inside her squeezing channel and you let the woman just feel your bare flesh while you enjoyed the sweltering core of her. “Ahyan! Ahyan...” she whimpered, clutching your back with her arms almost as crushingly as her pussy. “You’re inside me… you’re inside your mother! You’re inside Umi!” Her words were a mixture of excitement, confusion and shame. She had nothing she should feel ashamed of course, this was the will of Allah after all. But it felt so amazing that it couldn’t be completely free of sin. She wanted it so much more than a loving mother should. “Fuck…” she moaned, swearing uncharacteristically, the word burning in your ear. The sin. “Pray,” she said louder, hoping that by some miracle you hadn’t heard her curse. “Pray with me Ahyan,” she went on. You realised what she meant and grinned.

You moved your hips, the squeezing friction of her cunt telling you just how much she needed your cock inside her. So you gave it back to her, pushing a sweetly obscene noise from your mother. A sound only a son’s cock could make her utter. Her breath stuttered as you drew your sword out of her and before she could fully catch it you sheathed yourself back in. And you did this over and over, each stroke more wonderful than the last. Each mewling, gasping sound escaping her throat was filled with lust and want. You soon imagined why. Nobody had ever fucked your mother as well as you. Whether it was the lingering taboo or just the patience of your thrusts, or likely the combination of everything leading up to this, it was better than any lovemaking your mother had ever endured. “Ahyan!” she wailed your name into your ear as if to remind herself who you were. “I’m… I’m going to… Ahyan…”

“Tell me, Umi,” you encouraged her. You were sweating and throbbing and surprising yourself with how stoic and calm you still were.

“I’m going to cum!” she gasped. “Ahyan I’m going to cum! Ahyanaan! My son!! Ahhh!”

And she released her joy, convulsing against you, your cock still pumping away. She was unable to do much else, writhing and moaning unintelligibly as you hammered into her orgasm. Her nails dug into your back and the pain made you wince, but you couldn’t stop. You watched her face, twisted and beautiful as her pussy twitched around your cock. The sum of the such insanely erotic stimuli shifted your gears and you became selfish. You planted yourself deeper and harder with each subsequent thrust, punching the air out of her lungs. You needed to fill her with more than just your dick, and the impending inevitability of it brought you close, within seconds.

“I’m going to cum, Umi,” you told her urgently. Her eyes flashed open and you felt her pussy’s sweet grip. The woman shook her head a little, in disbelief, in denial. She didn’t want it. Not this far. Not with you raw and her so unprotected. She opened her mouth, wanting to voice her protest. You were her son. She couldn’t let you cum inside her.

“Do it Ahyan!” she cried, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Of course you should. It was God’s will.

“Fuck yes!”

You exploded inside her. You shoved your cock into her spasming cunt and blasted her walls. “Take it Umi!” you demanded. She raked your back, moaning and mournful, unable to reconcile the deep shame of feeling herself get claimed by her son with the sweet, depraved joy that came with it. It was Allah’s will that she be yours, she remembered, and so she surrendered to it. She let your pulsing cock spill forth and fill her with your potent sperm. She felt close to God. But she felt closer to you. She was broken and healed in a wonderful crash of a mother and son’s bodily fluid exchange.

You grunted a few more breaths as you finished pumping your worth into her well fucked cunt then let yourself relax. You laid atop the woman, your face in her sweat damp hijab. You felt her lips on your ear, a soft kiss, her hands caressing your back. Your cock was still stuffed inside the woman, still home in your mother. Where it belonged, according to the scriptures.

“I love you, Ahyan, my son,” she wanted you to know, her admission quiet. A shiver ran up her spine, another trill of orgasmic bliss that tapped into her soul. To admit her true heart was thrilling and she didn’t even ache for her husband in that moment. She only ached for more of you.

“You’re mine, Umi,” you said, bringing her mouth to yours. She obediently took your tongue and your spit, murmuring her agreement and clenching herself around your wilting cock. “You will sleep here now.” There was a nod from the woman, but as if your every word was a magical command she already started to drift into slumber. You smiled, watching her consciousness fade before slipping into sleep yourself.