The dirty homeless' rancid cheesy cock is the last straw

THE HARVEST OF SHAME – A MOTHER'S PENANCE IN CUM AND REGRET

*PLAP!!*

*PLAP!*

*PLAP!*

The skinhead's boot ground deeper between her shoulder blades, pressing Patrizia's flushed face into the sticky floorboards as he pistoned into the mature woman's hungry pussy with the rhythmic brutality of a jackhammer breaking concrete.

"O-OHMYGOD!! H-HE IS STRETCHING ME OUT!"

The bald punk's sweat dripped onto the small of her back, each droplet carrying the acrid sting of cheap beer and unwashed aggression.

*PLAP!*

*PLAP!!!*

*PLAP!!*

"Fucking whore takes it like she was made for this," he grunted, the skinhead's calloused fingers digging into the dimpled flesh of her wide childbearing hips hard enough to leave bruises that would last for weeks. The neon light from the apartment's broken sign flickered across his shaved scalp, casting demonic shadows that danced in time with his thrusts.

"F-Fuck... I-I'm going fu-*aah!!*-cking crazy..."

Patrizia’s vision blurred.

The voluptuous brunette's body ached.

But the worst—the absolute worst—was the homeless man.

"Buonasera, bastardi..."

The brunette milf smelled it before she saw him: the reek of unwashed flesh, of stale vodka and rotting teeth. The dirty old bastard's beard was matted with food scraps, his fingers blackened with grime as he shoved the curvy slut onto her knees.

"Open," he croaked, his breath a toxic cloud of decay.

Patrizia’s jaw fell slack.

The moment his cock—yellowed, filthy, reeking of piss and infection—slid past her lips, she gagged violently.

"Hkkk! Nnngh—!"

The taste was unholy—a mix of salt, sour cheese, and something rancid that coated the sinful aunt's tongue like a curse. Brezhnev had been leading the Soviet Union when the clochard had his last shower under a sudden thunderstorm.

"That’s it," the homeless man groaned, his hips jerking forward. "Suck it clean, bitch."

Patrizia’s stomach heaved.

But the hypnosis held her in place, forcing her to swallow every inch of the old dirty bastard's stinky cheesy cock.

Patrizia's breath came in ragged, wet gasps through her nose - her mouth stretched obscenely around the homeless man's cock, the mature woman's throat convulsing around the fungal stench of his unwashed flesh.

Her mind went blank.

"Patrizia, remember always keep your family close..."

Was that her mom's voice? Great she was hallucinating now.

The taste was biblical in its vileness - a putrid cocktail of cheese rinds, stale urine, and something alarmingly metallic that coated her tongue like a curse.

"Swallow it all, puttana," the vagrant croaked, his yellowed fingernails scraping against her scalp as he facefucked her with the **** vigor of a man who hadn't touched a woman since the Berlin Wall stood. His rancid balls slapped against her chin with each thrust, the wiry gray hairs scratching her skin raw.

Between the skinhead's brutal anal destruction and the homeless man's throat-violating occupation, Patrizia's mind fractured. Her thoughts dissolved into primal fragments - the burn of overstretched muscles, the acidic bile rising in her throat, the cold stickiness of half-dried semen between her thighs. Yet through the sensory overload, one image burned brighter than the Osiris mark on her belly:

Nora's tear-streaked face the day she'd returned from the first 'cramming lesson' at Angela Liegi's casino...

"S-She could barely walk for days... All of this for me?"

The memory hit with the **** of a gut punch. Her daughter's betrayed expression - those same green eyes they shared, wide with horror - superimposed itself over the cracked ceiling above. Patrizia's chest constricted around a sob that couldn't escape past the cock stuffing her gullet.

"Hkkk! Nnngh—!"

Her gagging only made the homeless man chuckle, a phlegmy sound that rattled through his nicotine-ruined lungs. "That's it, dirty bitch," he crooned, grinding his scummy pubic hair against the nose. "Take what you deserve."

The skinhead chose that moment to slam home one final time, his cock pulsing as he emptied another load into her already overflowing cunt. "Fucking ruined," he panted, slapping her fat ass hard enough to leave a handprint that would darken by morning. "Next!"

As he withdrew, the sudden rush of cooling air against her abused flesh made Patrizia shudder. The homeless man took the opportunity to thrust deeper, his cockhead bulging her throat obscenely before he too reached his climax.

What came out wasn't semen so much as a biological hazard - thick, curdled strands that burned like battery acid as they coated her tongue. The taste triggered a full-body epileptic seizure, the mature woman's stomach heaving violently, but the hypnosis held firm.

"O-OHMYGOD!!"

Every vile drop slid down her throat as the vagrant sighed with the contentment of a man who'd just conquered Mt. Everest.

"Fuck me, that's disgusting," muttered a pimpled teenager waiting his turn, his erection visibly wilting at the spectacle.

"No one's touching that mouth now," agreed a middle-aged accountant, wrinkling his nose as he unbuckled his belt. "But the other holes still look serviceable."

Patrizia barely registered being flipped onto her back, the mature brunette's massive tits swaying with the motion. The accountant didn't bother removing his tie before mounting her, his paunch pressing against her cum-slicked stomach as the pervert rutted like a man half his age.

Through glazed eyes, she watched the queue of men shift restlessly - seventeen and counting, each more depraved than the last. A morbid part of her wondered if this was hell's waiting room.

Then the hallucinations started.

Stefano's face materialized in the cum puddle before her, the middle-aged man's smirk twisting the shadows. "Look at you, sister," his deep baritone whispered through the cracks in her psyche. "Finally useful for something."

The accountant came with a whimper, his thinning hair plastered to his forehead as the lucky bastard emptied a weak slimy load, what little remained of his waning virility into the voluptuous milf's gaping pussy.

"Guess it's my turn..."

The next man - a gym rat smelling of protein powder and entitlement - didn't wait for him to fully withdraw before claiming his turn.

Patrizia lost count after the twelfth penetration.

Somewhere between the 36th and 69th violation - as a sweaty man three times the curvy brunette's weight smothered her beneath his bulk, the fat bastard's cock disappearing into her raw pussy with a wet squelch - the last vestiges of her pride crystallized into something darker.

Vengeance.

Not against these faceless men using her body. Not even against the brother who'd orchestrated this degradation.

But against herself.

For failing Nora.

For every missed school play spent at the blackjack tables.

"I-I'm sorry..."

For every time she'd turned a blind eye to her divorced husband's wandering hands.

The gym rat's thrusts grew erratic, his sculpted abs flexing as he neared his climax. "Take it, you fucking cumbucket," he grunted, slapping her fat milkers hard enough to make the flesh ripple.

Patrizia's luscious lips - still tacky with the homeless man's residue - curled into something different too holy to be just a simple smile.

"I see..."

Let them use her.

It was enlightenment...

"This is my real calling"

Let them break her.

When Stefano came to collect what remained, she'd be waiting.

And this time, she wouldn't beg.