The Son Violates His Mother 2
“Mmm…”
His mother let out a soft sound, as if the fierce light pressing through her eyelids were an unwelcome intrusion — and that faint resistance only stoked a strange, conquering hunger in him, the thrill of forcing himself upon a woman who wanted nothing of it.
The harsh glare swallowed his face completely in shadow, yet his eyes burned bright and never once left the female laid out on the bed.
His hands no longer carried any trace of hesitation. He seized one of her legs and began to pull it open. Her body, which had been lying on its side, rolled naturally onto her back, and the skirt already bunched at her knees rode even higher.
“…”
In that bone-chilling silence, only the camera lens crept forward, sliding between the smooth thighs of a married woman. The intimate cleft that had been drowned in darkness was dragged into the merciless light, and at last the pure white of her panties filled the frame.
He spread both her legs wider so the scrap of white fabric would catch even more clearly on camera. His mother, knowing nothing, lay with her legs splayed like a frog, her most private place bared before her own son. The soft mound of her sex showed faintly through the pristine cloth, and the sight alone was enough to stir something filthy in him.
Tap.
Into the unmoving focus locked between her thighs, a rectangular card suddenly intruded and came to rest against her panties. It was her mother’s ID — proof of exactly who the woman wearing those panties was. It looked for all the world like a price tag or product label slapped onto merchandise, and the feeling of treating a female as something less than human, of stripping away every last scrap of dignity, was intoxicating.
He didn’t stop there. Still holding her ID, he filmed her entire body once more, and finally set the card beside her face and captured them together.
“Hoo…”
As if he had just finished some great labor, he exhaled a long breath and returned the ID to where it belonged. At the same time he propped the still-recording phone on the vanity, adjusting the angle until his sleeping mother’s whole body filled the shot.
On the screen she remained as she was — legs spread like a frog, sunk deep in sleep. Then her son stepped into the frame out of the dark as if materializing from nothing, climbed onto the bed, and reached a black silhouette of a hand toward the defenseless woman.
He closed his fingers hard over the breasts he had buried his face in earlier, groping them through her clothes as if starving for motherhood itself.
“Nnh…”
She made a small sound at the sudden pressure on her chest. He startled at the softness that filled his grip completely.
“So this is how soft a woman’s breasts are…”
Desperate to feel more of that texture, he yanked her dress down with impatient, almost frantic hands. Two full, heavy swells spilled free — breasts that deserved the word heaving. Clean, unmarked by any middle-aged man’s filthy fluids, they woke a savage thirst in him. By the time he came back to himself, his mouth was already on them.
“Mmh… suck… slurp…”
“Nn… mmm… ah…”
Surely he had nursed at these same full breasts when he was a baby. The absence of that memory stung, but he told himself he could start making new ones right now — and bit down harder.
“Nngh!”
“Ah…?!”
Even that careful nibble left a mark of teeth, and she was sensitive enough that a faintly lewd moan escaped her as her hips twisted. He crushed her tighter against him as if refusing to let her escape, and sucked at her breasts with a persistence that bordered on obsession.
The fragrant scent of her skin and the soft flesh filled his mouth. Every time the rough bud of a nipple brushed the tip of his tongue, the cock straining in his pants screamed for release. He lost himself in the delusion of being an infant again, devouring his mother’s chest — yet the face the camera caught was twisted with nothing but filthy lust.
The give of breast-flesh squeezing out between his clenched fingers was a rapture he had never known.
“Hah! Hah! Hah!”
After long minutes of sucking and licking, he finally tore himself away, gasping as if he could no longer hold his breath. Beneath the phone’s light, her breasts gleamed obscenely, glazed and violated with her son’s spit.
The incestuous beast who had dared climb onto his mother’s belly slid slowly downward and pressed his face to the pure white of her panties. Through the fabric he could make out the vague shape of her sex. Carefully, reverently, he set his lips against the hole from which he himself had been born.
“Mwah.”
A faint warmth seeped through the cloth. Whether from the earlier suckling or from the heat of the beast’s rising desire bleeding into her, her body had begun to warm as well. Addicted to the soft texture of the panties and the flesh beneath, he buried his face deeper.
“Mwah… mmwah… suck… slurp… lick… lick…”
He kissed the place of his birth as if offering respect — but the sounds grew dirtier, filthier, more obscene with every passing second. The thicker those wet noises became, the more her peaceful sleeping face began to contort, her legs giving small, sharp twitches whenever he found a sensitive spot.
The pure white fabric darkened with the fluids of lust, clinging to the cleft between her thighs, turning translucent until the outline of the secret hole beneath stood out in stark relief. Her sex swelled thick enough to show its full shape, fouled and soaked through with her son’s saliva.
“Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!”
His scorching breath ghosted over the damp cloth. Even unconscious, some instinct of danger made her try to close her legs — but his hands clamped hard on the insides of her thighs and crushed even that minimal resistance to nothing.
Veins stood out in his eyes as he stared through the transparent fabric as if he could pierce it. Unable to wait any longer, one finger hooked the spit-soaked panties and dragged that final barrier aside.
Schlick.
The wet cloth peeled away with a lewd sound, and the secret hole that should never have been revealed lay fully exposed before her son. Her sex glistened with his sticky spit as if it had already been violated. At that filthy sight he could hold back no more — he opened his mouth wide as if to devour the slick cleft whole and swallowed it in a single motion.
“Suck… slurp…! lick… lick… mmwah…!”
“Ah… nn… nngh…! Ah…?!”
Thick, sticky wet sounds burst from between her thighs. His mouth stretched wide like a flounder’s, covering her entire slit, sucking and lapping, and those lewd noises filled the room. She twisted her hips faintly at the subtle stimulation blooming in her sex, letting out stifled, strangely sweet moans.
As if committing the shape of a woman’s sex to memory for the first time, his tongue traced every fold. When the red serpent finished exploring the outer surface, it pushed deeper into the cleft and soon found the hole that would take it further still. Lust-drunk eyes lit with rapture as he drove his tongue straight into that opening.
Her hips jerked hard enough to see. Her sex clenched around the invading tongue as if trying to expel the foreign sensation — but he forced past that resistance and shoved deeper, ravaging and tasting the hole that had given him life.
One of her languid fingers twitched in a feeble effort to claw back toward consciousness, but the sleeping pills — the concentrated essence of two men’s filthy desire — crushed that attempt completely.
“Suck… lick… lick…”
“Ah… nn… haah… nngh… hah…?”
The filthy wet sounds ringing from between her thighs grew deeper, lower. On the recording screen, one of her fingers trembled pitifully.
At last the mouth that had seemed as if it would never leave tore free of the hole of his birth. A thick strand of spit stretched from his glistening lips to the cleft of her sex before it snapped — and the camera caught every frame of it.
Rustle, rustle… thump.
With dazed, reasonless eyes he stripped off his clothes and stood before his mother in nothing but the body he was born with. His cock stood rigid and insistent, already dripping with precome. The incestuous beast climbed straight onto his mother’s belly.
“M-Mom… Mom…”
Straddling her, he called her name in a pathetic voice over and over, rocking his hips, rubbing his aching cock against her thighs, her lower belly, the slick mound of her sex. It was the clumsy thrashing of a man holding a woman for the first time — and his unknowing mother, as if accepting even this worthless child of hers, gave a small twist of her hips.
Whether by chance or fate, the head of his cock came to rest perfectly against her entrance. Instinct roared to life in him, and he understood: all he had to do was sink his hips.