Three

She stays straddling your thighs, completely naked, gold chain resting between her heavy tits, and grabs the remote. The TV flicks on. She doesn’t ask—she just queues up a playlist of the exact kind of clips that have been short-circuiting your brain: thick black cocks lined up next to much smaller white ones, close-ups of heavy dark shafts getting stroked, BBC pounding wet white pussy, then pulling out to unload long, thick ropes across tits and faces. Size-comparison. SPH. Pure cock-focused shots.

She turns the volume up just enough so you can hear the wet sounds and the dirty talk from the videos, then wraps her hand around your already-stiff little cock.

“Question three,” she says, voice low and filthy. “Was it me… or the cocks? We’re going to settle it while you watch.”

She starts stroking you in slow, tight twists, her naked pussy resting right against your balls, and forces your eyes to the screen.

“Look at that. Thick black cock. Veins. Weight. The way it makes the smaller one next to it look pathetic. You’ve been leaking to this exact visual for weeks. Mommy’s cunt was just the hole it was using. Mommy’s tits were just the target for the load. The thing that actually got this little dick throbbing is the cock itself.”

On screen a massive black cock is being stroked in extreme close-up, precum dripping, the camera lingering on every inch. Your mom’s fist matches the rhythm on your much smaller shaft.

“You’re a little gay for big dicks, baby. That’s the real answer. You get hard staring at them. You get harder when they’re dark and thick and completely outclass anything you’ve got. You came to the way they looked stretching me open, but you also came to the way they looked period—shiny, heavy, dominant. Mommy just delivered them to your phone so you could keep feeding that little obsession.”

She spits into her palm, makes the stroke wetter and meaner, and grinds her slick cunt against the base of your cock while the porn keeps showing BBC after BBC.

“Say it while you watch. Tell Mommy the truth. You’re not just a cuck for me. You’re a little gay for those big black cocks. You like looking at them. You like comparing. You like watching them throb and cum. The fact that they were inside your own mother only made the shame—and the heat—worse.”

Your face is burning. The screen is filled with a thick black cock unloading in long, heavy ropes across a pair of white tits. Your mom’s hand never stops.

“Say it.”

“…I’m a little gay for them,” you manage, voice rough. “For the big dicks… the thick black ones…”

“Louder. Look at the screen and say it properly.”

“I’m a little gay for big black cocks. I get hard looking at them. I get off on the size… on watching them cum…”

“Good boy.”

She speeds up her fist, twisting hard on every upstroke, her tits bouncing lightly as she works you. The porn keeps looping the most cock-focused, comparative, load-heavy clips she could find.

“You’re going to cum for those big dicks. Not for Mommy’s pussy. Not for the romance of it. For the thick black cocks you’ve been secretly throbbing over. Cum while you admit you’re a little gay for them. Cum while Mommy strokes this tiny thing and makes you stare at what actually owns your attention.”

The combination of her relentless hand, her naked body, the explicit BBC porn, and the forced confession is brutal. You last only a short while longer. You cum hard, spurting across her fingers and her lower stomach, a broken, ashamed sound leaving your throat while thick black cocks continue to throb and unload on the TV screen. She milks every pulse out of you, then lifts her cum-covered hand and slowly licks it clean while keeping your face turned toward the porn.

She picks up the notebook, writes a short, deliberate note beside question three, and smiles that soft, filthy smile.

“Question three is answered. It’s the cocks. You’re a little gay for the big ones—especially the thick black ones. Mommy just happens to be the one who feeds them to you. Next question whenever you’re ready, baby… but the porn stays on, and you’re going to keep looking at them while we continue.”

She stays right there on your lap, sticky and naked, the screen still full of the exact thing she just made you confess to, and waits for you to catch your breath so she can turn the page.