Cleaning Up After Her Kids

“Messy…” your mother said, staring at the utterly ruined remains of the sibling coupling she had just witnessed. The state of your cock, covered in your cum and your sister’s juices… the state of your sister’s pussy, puffy, pink and leaking... The splattered puddle of those fluids sitting between you on the floor…. This simply would not do. “So messy…” the woman sighed, crawling forward. She used her fingers at first, trying to clean up the runny cum and pussy juice off the linoleum. Seeing it on her hands made her lick her lips… then she had to lick her fingers. She attempted to scoop the mess up a couple of times and sucked her digits clean, but it was not the most effective way. She leaned down then and started to slurp your cum right off the floor.

Fareeha watched in awe. This matronly woman clad in her hijab and long dress on her elbows and knees sucking cum off the floor was quite a sight. You were slightly disgusted… and also really wanted to kiss your mother in that moment. “All clean,” your mother declared in a quiet, satsified voice, the main puddle on the ground taken care of. When she looked up and realised her kids had been watching her she turned beet red.

“Umi,” your sister called for her, grabbing the woman’s attention before the panic could make her run away. “Have you ever eaten pussy before?”

You heard your mother’s sharp intake of breath. She was staring at your sister’s offered vagina now and must have realised there was to be no end to the depravity under the roof of this house. Fareeha was smiling at you. “Mom,” she said, in a softer tone, which seemed to bring the woman out of her daze. “Come clean up my cunt,” she commanded, the hard edge of that word shocking your mother into action. She crawled towards her pregnant daughter and got between her legs. “The son’s seed must not go to waste,” Fareeha said, as if reciting to you your own scriptures. “And well… Ahyan’s cum is not much use where it is right now isn’t it? If it’s not feeding me… or fertilising me… it’s such a shameful, sinful waste.”

The confused Muslim woman looked up at her daughter, eyes wide. Your sister’s smile curved like a scythe. “Ah you finally understand what it means now,” she said happily. “What it means to be ‘blessed’ by my brother’s seed. By your son’s seed. His semen. His sperm. Oh, it’s dripping out, Umi. Use your tongue.”

The almost hypnotic sway Fareeha had on your mother right now was something to behold. She coaxed the woman forward and your mom leaned down obediently to lick the oozing slit of her daughter. “Mmm… there you go…” sighed your sister, stroking her headscarf encouragingly. She luxuriated in the warm if inexperienced tongue between her legs for a few seconds. “Did you give much thought to it, I wonder,” Fareeha said, picking up her original thread of this one sided conversation. “To what would happen if Ahyan finally gave you that ultimate blessing. If my brother’s sperm… finally found my mother’s egg… and you got… blessed.” Your sister stroked her belly meaningfully, your mother now pressing her lips to her daughter’s pussy as her ears burned. You could hear her sucking and swallowing. Fareeha’s expression grew pinker as her mother’s tongue went deeper, searching for your sinful waste. “Is that what you want, mom?” she moaned, grinding her pussy into her mother’s mouth. The slurping became more urgent, she had cleared a blockage and now that delicious cum flowed freely onto her tongue. “Do you want your son to reach your womb? You want your son to breed you?” Fareeha was panting and squirming, her tits jiggling and dribbling her sickly sweet juices. “Mom! Fuck! Ahhhhhh I’m cumming again!”

And this time it was wet. She flooded your mother’s mouth and she tried her level best but ended up spluttering from the unexpected spillage. “Allah be praised…” your sister gasped, shuddering then flopping backwards onto the floor, so spent she was seriously considering a nap right here on the kitchen floor.

Your mother sat up, wiping her chin with a loose sleeve. There were splotches of dark wetness on the front of her chest, soaked into the headscarf and her dress, but she was otherwise quite clean. Even your sister, laying there with her legs splayed, seemed to be covered in no more than a nice, glistening layer of spit and sweat.

She turned to you now, and your cock, still hard by some miracle, still bore the creamy evidence of five minutes ago when your sister rode you until you came inside her. Your mother didn’t need more words. Didn’t need more prompting. She climbed over your knees and applied her tongue to your dick. You winced, a pleasant soreness spreading along your shaft as your mom bathed you, kissed you, made her mouth a home for your cock. And then you were clean, and when she swallowed she went back to servicing you.

“Mom… I’m out, I’m done,” you had to tell her, the woman stopping with your cock still halfway in her mouth to look up at you. She seemed **** to obey, seeing as your cock was still hard and warm against her tongue, but you knew your balls were empty. She spat you out and licked her lips.

“You have milk on your chin,” she said, resuming her climb, and now she straddled you hips. She rubbed her thumb along your lower lip like she might clean off a bit of grime from the face of her child. And then she kissed you on the mouth in no way that was appropriate for a normal mother. She left you breathless and you had to hold her. Your mom leaned back to inspect her work, was unconvinced you were clean enough, and kissed you again. You had no complaints, the flavour of her spit now tainted with so many other fluids your head was spinning.

She broke the kiss but stayed close, panting. “Ahyan… my dear beloved son…” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Habibi...” My love… There was another brief, needful kiss. “You can, you know? If you want,” she said. “If you want to bless me… with another… with my… third. I will let you.” She kissed you again, as if it was the only way she could take a breath. “I will let you breed me, Ahyan. I will! Please let me-” she gulped, shaking her head, her forehead rubbing against yours. What she wanted felt so wrong to say but deep down she just knew...

You kissed her this time, instinctively, calming her. She ground against your unwavering erection. “Mmm… my baby. I’ll keep track of my times for you… every month… when I am most fertile. On those days I will make sure we pray in the right way. No waste… nothing wasted. Your sin inside me. Your mother is your breeding stock, abnay alhabib…” My beloved son.

“Fuck-ing hell,” said your sister. She was sat up now and was staring at the boy and his mother in such an intimate embrace it almost embarrassed Fareeha. “I am good,” she said, grinning. “Maybe I should be giving sermons.” She meant khutbah, but your Arabic was always a bit better than hers. “I should be an imam!”

She was joking, but you agreed. Your mother kissed you again.