She will mark him!

In the car her hand slid under his skirt and found the slick, ruined mess. Her fingers pushed into him easily, sliding through the thick, warm cum of multiple women. Avery opened his legs after only a second’s hesitation and pushed back onto them, cheeks pink, eyes lowered, a soft sound escaping his throat.

The drive home was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the wet sound of Martha’s fingers moving inside him. She didn’t speak. She simply kept two thick fingers buried in his ruined hole, slowly pumping them in and out, feeling every slick, loose clench. Avery sat with his legs open, skirt bunched around his waist, cheeks pink, eyes lowered. He never once closed his thighs or asked her to stop.

When they pulled into the driveway Martha finally withdrew her hand. A thick string of mixed cum followed her fingers. She wiped it across Avery’s soft cock without comment, then got out of the car.

Inside the house the door had barely closed before she turned on him.

“Upstairs. My room. Now.”

Avery followed, steps slightly unsteady. Martha’s bedroom was large, dimly lit by a single lamp. She locked the door, then walked to him and buried her face against the side of his neck, inhaling deeply. Her expression changed.

She smelled it.

The faint, sharp scent of piss still clung to his skin beneath the cologne and the heavier smell of sex.

Martha’s eyes darkened to something almost black. She gripped his chin and forced his face up.

“You let them piss on you.”

Avery’s cheeks burned. He tried to look away, but her fingers held him firm. His voice came out small. “I… didn’t stop them.”

Martha stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed once, low and humorless.

“Of course you didn’t.”

She shoved him backward onto the bed. Avery landed on his back, skirt still rucked up, bare cock soft against his stomach, hole visibly puffy and glistening. Martha stood over him and began undressing with deliberate calm—first the black dress, then the heels, then the dark lace underwear. Her cock sprang free, already thick and heavy, easily matching Hale’s in size. She stroked it once, eyes never leaving her son.

“I’m going to do everything they did to you,” she said quietly. “And then I’m going to do worse. You’re not going to stop me. Are you?”

Avery’s throat worked. He shook his head once, soft and almost shy. “No, Mom…”

That was all she needed.

Martha climbed onto the bed, straddled his chest, and slapped her heavy cock across his face several times—left cheek, right cheek, lips. Avery kept his mouth closed at first, flinching with each wet smack, but when she pressed the fat head against his lips he opened obediently. She fed him the thick shaft in one long push until his nose was buried against her stomach and his throat bulged. She held him there, hips rolling in short, shallow thrusts, spit already pouring down his chin.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “My sweet boy, taking his mother’s cock down his throat like a proper little toilet.”

She fucked his mouth harder after that—deep, ruthless strokes that made wet, choking sounds fill the room. Avery’s eyes watered, mascara from the evening running slightly, but he kept his hands on her thighs and never pushed her away. When she finally pulled out a long rope of thick spit connected his swollen lips to her cock. She collected it on her fingers and pushed it back into his mouth.

“Swallow.”

He did.

Martha moved down his body, shoved his knees high against his chest, and stared at the open, used hole that still leaked a slow trickle of other women’s cum. She spat directly onto it, then forced three fingers inside without warning. Avery cried out, back arching, but his legs stayed spread. She scissored her fingers open, spat again, and added a fourth.

“They stretched you open for me,” she said, almost wondering. “How thoughtful of them.”

She withdrew her fingers, lined up her thick cock, and slammed home in one brutal thrust. Avery’s scream was muffled by the pillow he turned his face into. Martha didn’t give him time to adjust. She fucked him with deep, punishing strokes from the very first second, hips slamming against his soft ass hard enough to make the bed frame creak. Every thrust forced fresh wet sounds from his ruined hole. Thick white cum from earlier in the night was pushed out around her shaft with every withdrawal, only to be forced back in on the next stroke.

“You’re so fucking loose,” she growled. “Anyone could walk in here and use this hole right now. You’d probably just thank them.”

Avery’s only answer was a broken, high moan as she angled her hips and dragged across his prostate with every thrust. His cock twitched against his stomach, leaking steadily.

Martha leaned down, wrapped one hand around his throat, and spat into his open mouth again. Then she did it a second time. A third. Avery swallowed each time, tears streaking toward his temples.

She fucked him like that for a long time—rough, deep, relentless—until his thighs trembled and his voice had gone hoarse from moaning. When she finally felt her orgasm building she pulled out abruptly, stroked her cock twice, and released a heavy load across his face, his open mouth, and his chest. Thick ropes of cum painted him. Avery kept his mouth open and accepted what landed on his tongue.

But Martha wasn’t finished.

She looked down at the mess of her son—flushed, covered in spit and cum, hole gaping and leaking—and the sharp memory of the piss scent on his skin returned. Something darker settled in her expression.

“They marked you with their piss,” she said quietly. “That means I get to do it too.”

Avery’s eyes widened. His voice came out small and shaky. “Mom…?”

“Stay still.”

Martha straddled his chest again, aiming her still-hard cock at his face. She held his gaze the entire time as the first hot stream of piss left her. It splashed across his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Avery flinched hard, a soft, startled sound escaping him, but he didn’t turn his head away. Martha adjusted her aim and directed the golden stream straight into his open mouth. He coughed once, eyes squeezing shut, but he kept his lips parted and swallowed what he could. The rest ran down his chin and throat, mixing with the cum already drying on his skin.

She emptied herself completely across his face and chest, watching the warm liquid pool in the hollow of his throat and trickle down his sides onto the sheets. When the stream finally stopped she rubbed the head of her cock across his piss-wet lips.

“Clean it.”

Avery’s tongue trembled as he licked her clean, tasting the sharp, salty tang of her urine mixed with residual cum. His face was scarlet with humiliation, eyes wet, but he didn’t stop until she was satisfied.

Martha stared down at him for a long moment, almost disbelieving at what she had just done—and what he had allowed.

Then she smiled, slow and dark.

“We’re not done.”

She flipped him onto his stomach, pulled his hips up, and entered him again in one hard thrust. The wetness of piss and cum made the slide filthy and loud. She fucked him from behind with long, deep strokes, one hand in his hair, the other reaching under to stroke his cock roughly. Avery came with a muffled sob into the mattress, hole clenching around her. Martha followed soon after, burying herself to the hilt and adding yet another thick load to the mess already inside him.

Even then she didn’t stop completely. She stayed buried, rolling her hips in slow circles, feeling how completely open and claimed her son’s body had become. Only when her cock finally began to soften did she pull out. A heavy rush of mixed fluids followed—cum, piss, spit—running down Avery’s thighs and soaking the sheets.

Martha collapsed beside him, breathing hard. For a while the only sound in the room was their breathing.

Then she reached over, cupped his piss-streaked cheek, and turned his face toward her.

“You’re mine first,” she said quietly. “No matter how many of them use you. Remember that.”

Avery, voice small and rough, simply whispered, “Yes, Mom.”

She kissed him then—deep, claiming, tasting herself on his tongue—and pulled him against her chest, uncaring of the mess coating both of them.

Outside, the night continued on, unaware of how thoroughly the pretty boy of the house had been ruined by his own mother.

And Avery, sore, marked, and thoroughly used, closed his eyes against her skin and let himself drift, already wondering what else she might decide to do to him before morning.