Checking in on her son, Aslan is fapping to mom-son porn...

The Forbidden Feast

Dinner had been a quiet affair—tension thick enough to carve with a knife. Reya had barely met Aslan’s gaze, the voluptuous milf fingers fidgeting with her fork, her thighs pressed tightly together beneath the table as if she could physically suppress the heat pooling between them. Every accidental brush of his knee against hers sent a jolt through her body, her nipples stiffening beneath her blouse, her pussy clenching around nothing.

And Aslan?

He had watched.

The young man had smirked.

"It must be his testosterone or something... Don't overthink things, Reya... He is just being... Playful."

Now, hours later, the house was dark save for the dim glow of Aslan’s bedroom lamp. Reya stood outside his door, her palm pressed against the wood, her breath shallow. She told herself she was just checking on him—motherly concern, nothing more.

Then she heard it.

The slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.

The low, guttural groan of her son’s voice.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She shouldn’t.

"W-What the hell..."

She couldn’t.

But her body moved on its own, her fingers twisting the doorknob, pushing it open just a crack—just enough to see.

"I-I'm just checking in on my son, nothing wrong rig... O-Ohmygod!!"

Aslan’s room was a den of sin.

The flickering light of his laptop screen illuminated his bare torso, his muscles flexing as his hand stroked his cock—God, his cock—thick, veined, glistening with precum. The sight alone made Reya’s mouth water, her pussy throbbing in time with his strokes.

But it was the screen that truly unraveled her.

A woman—older, voluptuous, with curves not unlike her own—moaned as a younger man, his face obscured but his body eerily familiar, fucked her ruthlessly, his hips slamming into hers with a **** that made Reya’s own body ache with envy.

"Fuck, Mom," Aslan growled, his voice rough with need, his grip tightening around his shaft. "Take it—take your son’s fat cock like the hungry slut you are—"

Reya’s knees nearly buckled.

Her son.

Her son was jerking off to **** porn.

To her.

The redhead milf's fingers flew to her mouth, stifling a whimper as her panties soaked through, her cunt pulsing with a shameful, ravenous hunger.

She should leave.

She had to leave.

But her body refused to obey.

She could only watch, transfixed, as Aslan’s hips jerked, his balls tightening, his cock swelling—

"Fuck—Mom—"

—and then he came.

Thick, ropey spurts of cum erupted from his cock, splattering across his stomach, his chest, his hand. The scent—musky, addictive—filled the room, wrapping around Reya like a ****, her nostrils flaring, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

She wanted to taste it.

The thought horrified her.

It aroused her.

Aslan exhaled sharply, his body lax with satisfaction, his fingers lazily dragging through the mess on his abdomen. Then, without a care in the world, he stood—his cock still half-hard, dripping—and strode toward the bathroom, his loose shirt doing little to hide the evidence of his release.

Reya barely had time to stumble back, her face burning, her body trembling.

The bathroom door clicked shut.

Silence.

Then—

Running water.

She was alone.

With his cum.

Her breath came in short, frantic gasps as she crept into his room, her eyes locked on the soiled tissues discarded on his nightstand. The scent was stronger here—thick, heady, curling into her lungs, her mind.

"Just one taste," the ring’s influence whispered, slithering through her thoughts. "You know you want to."

Her fingers shook as she reached for the tissue, her pulse roaring in her ears.

This was wrong.

This was filthy.

This was—

"Mine."

Reya’s head snapped up.

Aslan stood in the doorway, his shirt still open, his body still glistening from the shower, his smirk predatory.

"Find something interesting, Mom?"

Reya’s heart stopped.

The tissue crumpled in her grip.

And Aslan?

He laughed.