You knew the smart move would be to put the ring away, and stay yourself. But...did the fun have to stop there? Being your Mom again had been so fun, so wonderful, after depriving yourself of it for so long. Why couldn’t you use the ring, and spend a little more time as her? With that flimsy justification in place, you used the ring and suddenly were your Mom again. You could feel lust radiating through your body, and as you looked at your son, you were excited for whatever he wanted to do next.
Smiling mischievously, James licked his lips while looking you over, which made you shiver in anticipation. “I’m feeling hungry, Mom. Why don’t you make breakfast?” You couldn’t help from frowning. Sure, it was the most important meal of the day, but what about fucking? You were just about to turn around when he stood about and said something else, “Oh, and I can do whatever I want to your slutty naked body while you cook, and you have to just keep on like it isn’t happening.”
There was the twist that made it interesting. Oh, your son was so crafty! And sexy! You had no complaints with the idea, and stripped completely naked and walked down to the kitchen, letting him follow you as you went. “Is french toast okay with you, honey?” you asked him, a teasing tone in your voice. After all, you knew it was his favorite, both as his mother and as the person who used to be in that body. He made a pleased sound and with that, you started putting the batter together.
Despite the fact that, as James, you’d never actually made french toast before, you didn’t even have to look up a recipe. The ingredients and steps came to you naturally, like you’d made it a thousand times before for your loving family. But just as the batter was coming together, you felt your son’s hands on your ass. He was cupping it, slapping it, groping it. You wanted to moan, but you couldn’t. He said he wanted you to cook like he wasn’t molesting you along the way, and you wanted to play along.
It was so hard to endure. After working through getting the frying pan preheated and greased, and getting the slices of breast ready to dip and sear, the entire time being ass-handled by your wonderful son, he switched his targets. Just as you got the first slice on the pan, his hands moved away from your ass, then slipped under your arms to reach your breasts. It was **** not to be able to react, but you fought through your lust and tried to keep cooking. The first piece of french toast was almost done when one of your son’s hands dipped lower and went into your pussy.
“You’re drenched,” your son whispered into your ear. You knew it was true, you were on the brink of being so aroused your juices would just start dripping down your naked thighs. “Mom, look at you, trying to cook for your darling boy...while he uses you however he wants. You’re willing to do that, do anything for him...because you’re just a slut. A cock-craving whore who wants to be fucked.” You couldn’t say anything back, that would ruin the illusion, but you wanted to tell him he was right. After all, he was. You felt like a slut. Like a woman who wanted nothing more than to be fucked. Even by your own son. Especially by your own son.
But instead, you finished breakfast. The stack of french toast was done in record time, despite the fact your nipples were being twisted and prodded, and your pussy finger-fucked, the entire time. “Alright,” you managed to say, trying to keep your unimaginably deep arousal out of your voice as you set the plate on the counter. “It’s time for breakfast.” The only question was, what your son was going to do to you next?
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