Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

“Eat,” Mom said, not looking at me. “If last night didn’t wear you out, then you weren’t trying hard enough.”

I laughed to myself, the sound barely leaving my throat as my chest and shoulders shook. I picked up my phone, selected the camera, and took a picture of my mother. The first focused on her entire body, but for the next one, I zoomed in on her pussy, and for the last, Mom set down her fruit and lowered her hand between her legs, covering her inner and outer lips but not the hollow dip into her thighs. I snapped the picture as my cock grew semi-hard and continued to harden.

“Eat,” Mom said.

I was hungry.

“Okay,” I said.

A bowl.

A spoon.

Milk.

Cereal.

I finished my breakfast before Mom finished hers. I knew she felt me looking at her from where I sat in the guest of honor chair to her right when she smiled, silently chewing on her pair. I pushed my chair outward, the legs sliding against the wooden flooring, and I turned toward her, waiting.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Like a baby,” Mom said. “You?”

“Same,” I said, curling and uncurling my fingers against my upper thighs. “I woke up kind of sore.” My heartbeat rose, and my feet tingled, the pre-damp signs of perspiration beading my palms and the soles of my feet.

“I woke up sore as well,” Mom said, the corners of her lips pulling into a smile. “I’ve missed that feeling.”

“Is it always like that?”

Mom’s smile deepened as she said, “It is when I’m allowed to be on top.”

I swallowed, my heart thumping at the perverse question that came to my mind, and I asked, “Dad doesn’t let you be on top?”

“Not often,” Mom whispered, her next breath coming in deep and shaky. “I was your father’s princess before we married, and now he treats me like a queen when all I want to be is his whore.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

My cock turned to steel, the head mashing into my shorts, the pressure trying to compress my knob.

“Since your father won’t let me be his whore,” Mom said, her voice low and anxious, “will you make me be your whore, Mark? Will you do that for your mother?”

I grabbed my cock through my shorts to ease the ache pulsing through it. “Yes,” I said, squeezing myself hard, but that only reminded me of how exposed my dick was without my boxer briefs holding it in place.

“Well,” Mom said, setting down her paper and turning her green eyes on me. “Then you better make me do something before I have to get my butt upstairs and go to work.”

Mom turned her chair to the right, the left side of the backrest connecting with the table. She brought her knees back and feet up and slid her butt to the edge of her seat, her asshole hung above empty space. That little pucker between the bottoms of her cheeks caught my attention, and again, I knew, deep down, that my mother was an anal virgin. There was no way Dad had ever touched his queen down there.

My tongue found Mom’s asshole the moment I had my head between her legs. I pushed into her little crinkle, tasting her vanilla lotion and hints of her pussy juices that had slid down her perineum and between her cheeks.

“Ooh,” Mom hissed, adding a throaty moan as her body tensed. “Ooh, that’s something your father would never do to me.”

“Good,” I whispered, licking upward from her pristine backdoor and swirling my tongue around her outer labia, pushing against the edges of her swollen pussy lips. Even with a night’s worth of sleep, I could tell my cock had given her pussy a beating.

“That’s right,” Mom said, her voice filled with the tight strain of pleasure. “Lick the soreness out of me.”

I placed my hands on the backs of her thighs, and Mom slid her arms inside her legs and pushed her elbows against the backs of her knees, holding herself up and open for me. Her pussy petals came apart with a slow, methodical beauty. Sticky strands of her cooze juice stretched between her lips, snapping apart as I pushed my tongue through their silky webbing and into my mother’s pussyhole. It was as though I had slipped my tongue into a honeypot, the delicious taste of her nectar sizzling across the surface of my tongue, making my mouth water.

“Oh, baby,” Mom whispered, “you stretched me out last night. Mmm, am I still tight for you?” She squeezed her pussy muscles, kissing the sides of my tongues with her walls. “Is Momma’s pussy still tight for her son?”

“Mmm,” I moaned into her snatch. “As tight a pussy as I’ve ever tasted.”

Mom laughed.

“The other one is only eighteen-years-old,” I whispered.

“Ooh,” Mom said, narrowing her eyes and puckering her lips. “I’m as tight as an eighteen-year-old. That’s naughty, baby.”

I smiled and tongue-fucked my mother’s opening, licking the edges of her lips and then beyond her hole. Mom held her legs up, her body twitching and quivering whenever I wet her cunny lips or dipped beyond her pink rim and painted the insides of her clam with my spit. After I had bathed my face in her nectar, I brought my hands down her thighs, using my fingers to collect her juices in turns. My left hand dipped below my waistband, grabbed my cock, and lubed my thickness with her fuck-juices while I lowered my right forefinger to her asshole and pushed against the tight pucker of her backdoor.