More cleansing worship.

“I could really hear your… devotion there, Umi,” you told your mother as she rose up to a sitting position. This caused her dress to drop back down and cover her sweaty ass and,having regained her motor skills, she quickly shuffled around on her knees, turning her still faintly throbbing pussy and ass way from you so that she faced her son front on instead. Shyness crept back into her, and you could see her eyes bugging out in her head as she thought about the compromising position she had been in just moments ago. But she shouldn’t have to have felt embarrassed by it, she knew. This was all just part of the Salah. For you to cleanse her flesh as she worshipped was the proper way now...

Her faraway gaze refocused as she saw your shifting movement then those large green peepers were wide again. You had shimmied out of your pants, your stiff dick, almost painfully erect, finally freed.

“You know what’s next right?” you quizzed the woman who upon seeing your thick cock again after that mind buffing orgasm found more confusing feelings welling up inside of her. Hearing your question she nodded.

“The mother should help the son in worship… in prayer… to achieve the heavenly pleasure and become closer to God’s greatness…” she said as if reading directly from pages pinned in her mind. When she regarded that thing between your legs, again so mightily erect, she seemed to be in disbelief. “You are… ready again?” she asked. “So soon?”

She had no idea how ready you were and you hid your smirk.

“Seeing your… devotion, just now, was inspiring,” you complimented her. “Your worshipping aroused a great deal of devotion in me. I must worship in the proper way. But first, I think I need wudu here,” you noted with a gesture, meaning ablution, or cleansing, was required for your cock, despite it being probably one of the most thoroughly washed parts of your body. You liked the idea of purifying oneself before prayers, only instead of water you had decide other available means could be used. “Can you use your spit, Umi?”

“M-my spit?” your mother spluttered, at first shocked by the idea, but then, still feeling your slick saliva between her legs realised that it was perfectly fine, as per the Holy Scripture. “Of course… yes.”

You shuffled closer to her, knees parting slightly so that she was in your zone. This closeness again seemed to make her uncomfortable, even if you had just licked her out, but she fought the urge to gulp and leaned forward slightly. You saw her purse her lips, spied her tongue between her teeth, as she tried to stimulate her salival glands. She spat, making a sound almost like a cartoon mous, onto the general area of your crotch, hitting your thigh with a rather dismal amount of spit. “Sorry,” she said, chagrined by her own feeble attempt, and worked her tongue around the inside of her mouth again. Watching your mother stare at your cock as she collected her spit was getting you even harder than you already were. She was more careful this time as she hovered a couple feet over your lap and pushed a glob of saliva past her lips. You saw it drop and felt it splat on the tip of your cock, the warmth of it quickly dissipating to the coolness of air. She wasn’t done and you saw concerted effort crease her forehead as she dug for more fluids. When she thought she had a nice bit to gathered she leaned over again, but this time, almost absently, grabbed hold of the base of your dick to steady it, then slowly let the drool out of her mouth, a long string of spit connecting your cock to your mother’s mouth for a second before you felt the cold wrap around your dick.

“Rub it in,” you told her, barely keeping it together. “Really give it deep cleanse.” It was only now that your mom seem to realised that she was again holding her son’s cock, and while she did widen her eyes she didn’t flinch. She started stroking you, trying to spread the collected spit along your shaft, half heartedly spitting on you again but her mouth was getting dry. “Let me help with that,” you announced, and you grabbed your mother’s cheek with a hand slid then your thumb into her mouth. Those surprised eyes flicked up to you, but she wasn’t in the proper headspace to do much about it and she opened her mouth more as if to speak. You took this opportunity to turn your hand and stuck two fingers past her lips. You felt her soft tongue try to push you out, her eyebrows furrowing and her grip on your cock tightening. But she realised that spit was now starting to fill her mouth and made a slightly impressed noise around your fingers. You felt her sucking at your fingers now, and realised you wished she had that mouth over something else, but really there was no rush. This was fun too. The warmth of your mom’s mouth around your fingers was pleasant.

She picked up stroking you again as you slowly fingered her mouth, sticking in a third digit and then going a bit deeper. You could feel the drool spilling out of the corners of her mouth as you stretched her lips, until you reached her gag reflex and she had to spit your fingers out. With it came a decent slop of gooey spit that landed directly onto your balls, a small trail of it dribbling onto the rug. Your mother seemed surprised by how much came out and was quickly spreading the slick all over your swollen groin with her hand.

Apparently encouraged, she readily accepted your three fingers again, and so for the next thirty seconds or so you hand fucked your mother’s mouth, slowly working on her gag reflex, the woman discovering how the thicker, sometimes more bubbly saliva was produced by lightly **** it out of her. She was going a little red in the cheeks, eyes watering, but her devout determination to properly cleanse you was a sight to see. This was no doubt the wettest, sloppiest handjob you had ever received. Your mother was basically slavering over your cock and rubbing her stringing spit into it with vigor. Her hijab around the chin was getting soaked, so before the tips of your fingers started to wrinkle you extracted your hand from her mouth. You y wiped them casually on your mother’s dress as your hand trailed down her shoulder. If she noticed she didn’t make a fuss of it, instead fully focused on letting a nice runny dollop of spit pour off her tongue and onto your now shiny and slick shaft.

“That’s good, Mama,” you breathed, and your mom looked up at you as if she had forgotten you were there. She swallowed with effort, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of a hand while she continued to jerk you off steadily. “That feels really good… mmm…”

She didn’t seem to like hearing you say this kind of thing, but if you didn’t speak then the only sound would be the soft wet sound of skin on skin as she pulled off her son.

“P-praise be to Allah,” she stammered as she worked your cock.

“Yes… praise to Allah…” you agreed, that familiar feeling starting to rise hotly in your loins.

“Praise him for his bounty provide… provide through the son,” she went on, reciting the new scripture that was somehow easier to remember while she stroked your drenched erection. “The son’s … son’s penis… so hard and full of life… as I worship Allah and my son’s cock… may we be blessed… by… the holy bounty…”

“Holy… bounty…” you croaked through gritted teeth, trying to keep up but your mom’s hand felt too good. “Arrgh!”

You came without another thought, just with the feeling of your mother’s fingers squeezed around your cock. She cried out at the surprising spurt that shot up high but she managed to avoid getting struck by it. She didn’t stop pumping you though, and more hot cum fountained out of you and all over her hand. The pulsing pleasure wafted warmly through your body, synced up with each ejection your mother caused from you. Grimacing but determined to do her duty she milked every last thick drop out of you, causing you to squirm for a change at the tail end of her work. Finally seeing that you were done she let go of your dick and stared at her hand for a moment, dripping in creamy, sticky mess. The way it clung to her fingers wasn’t entirely unpleasant… but at the same time felt incredibly wrong. She looked around as if hoping a box of tissues would miraculously appear.