Slamming

For two hours, my mouth moves on Mom's cock, my eyes riveted to hers. Mom purrs soft and low whenever my lips trail a series of kisses down to her hilt. She offers me this sweet, airy little hum, every time my tongue flexes wide on the way up.

Mom's fingers twitch, and her eyes flutter down at me, with a warm, feral growl, each time I grind the tip of my tongue on her frenulum and moan. She savours every heartbeat of my attention, looking down at me as I kneel before her, reverent.

Her fingers curve forcefully along my scalp, stroking and massaging, as her meat starts to pulse. I can feel the heat of her, the quickening of her heartbeat. Dark brown eyes, like gleaming diamonds, remain focused on my face, watching proudly.

The fact Mom is proud of me for kneeling for her, for worshipping her cock, is an aphrodisiac. As her meat pulses, and her fingers tighten on my head, I work for her pleasure. My eyes focused up on her, I can see the moment that Mom is ready.

The shift that follows is ungentle, sudden, but not cruel or violent. It is a motion of need, pure and simple, as my lips press a kiss to her crown. As I kiss it, she suddenly bucks her hips forward, thrusting at full force as she shoves my head down.

My mouth sweeps down around Mom's cock and keeps going, passing her hilt as her jewels force into my mouth. I stare, blankly, as the trimmed hair and soft skin at Mom's hilt reach my eyes. I can' make eye contact, now, my face is too near.

“Suck my nuts, faggot!” Mom growls with lustful yearning, and I obediently flex my tongue wide underneath them, slowly caressing them. “Swallow on my cock, slut. Hold your breath, you're not coming up for air until I'm completely finished.”

I follow Mom's orders, swallowing around her cock every time it pulses, and again, between every pulse. I feel it, when the first jet of her cum pumps from her shaft into the lowest quarter of my throat. My eyes flutter, but I have no choice, now.

I take it, swallowing, letting Mom's release flood my stomach. I wouldn't complain, even if I could, about Mom using me to get herself off, or even wanting me to drink her cum. The part that I lament is the fact I won't be able to taste Mom's load.

I don't bother patting Mom's thighs or asking to be let up. I simply hold position, and breath, until the pulsing subsides. I swallow continuously, milking her cock for every last drop, and she slowly pulls back, her jewels slowly passing my lips.

Her meat follows, millimetre by millimetre, slow but sure. When my throat is clear, I breathe in sharply, gasping and just inhaling her scent. The aromatic musk fills my lungs, refreshing me and making me smile all on my own at the sensation.

“Good faggot,” Mom praises, “I am going to need you to service it again now. I need to cum at least twice to be fully sated.” It doesn't sound like a request, but I know my mother well enough to recognise hidden questions. She wants my consent.

“Happy to serve you, Mom,” I assure her, “but may I make a small request, please, Mom?” Mom's smile brightens, and her eyes soften, as her expression lights up. Her fingers cup my cheek, and her thumb strokes across my face, affectionately.

“Anything, faggot,” she says, “If you're willing to serve again, after having just served me so well, for the first time, ever? I'm very well-motivated to consider a request. Tell me what you want, little slut, and I promise I will consider it, at least.”

“Would you be willing to cum in my mouth, next time, not ... all the way down to the super bottom bottom? I would like to taste it. You produce actual, real phallic milk, right?” Mom nods, beaming at me, as she continues just stroking my cheek.

“Very well, faggot. I promise to let you taste it, let you feel it on your tongue,” Mom says reassuringly, stroking her cock with her free hand, and slapping my face with it. “I get the feeling you like my cock, though. Tell me what you like most.”

“I love the scent of your aroma in my lungs,” I tell her truthfully, “and cock tastes really nice on my tongue. It's fabulous.” Mom grins, and pulls my mouth close. I can tell, looking up into Mom's eyes, that we're both ready for her second round.

Author's Note:
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