Chapter 47 The Son Who Teaches His Second Mother About Sex (2)

I was certain that Second Mother wasn't my biological mother.

Of course, First Mother's pussy was also clean and soft despite being used frequently...

But this was different.

Somehow, Second Mother's pussy felt far more pure.

It was a little messed up that I was comparing my mothers' pussies and thinking like this, but...

Figuring out which of my mothers was my real birth mother had been a long-standing curiosity of mine, so I couldn't suppress the thought that had just crossed my mind.

Meanwhile, as I was staring intently at Second Mother's pussy, she was on the verge of passing out, her eyes rolling back.

"Hngggg, ughhhh..."

Just a little more time, just a little more pressure—that was all it would take.

Second Mother would lose consciousness, and I could finally seize the chance to escape the Cult.

"Ughhh, haaaaahhh..."

But—

I loosened my grip on her neck, the hand that had been holding her up.

Second Mother's body slumped downward, landing on her son's thighs where he stood before her.

The sensation of bare skin—something I hadn't felt since early childhood, aside from Second Mother's hands—touched my thighs, stomach, and chest.

Her skin texture was nothing like Fourth Mother's firmness. Nor was it like First Mother's, whose body carried a heavy weight and exuded a sticky, alluring scent whenever we pressed against each other.

Second Mother's body was almost weightless, like holding a doll. And her scent was faint, barely noticeable.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and naturally sat down on the toilet. Then, burying my face in her chest like I used to as a child, I let a few tears fall.

Even though I had yelled at her to either treat me as the Heavenly Child or as her son—not both—I, too, had failed to clarify my own feelings toward her.

"Mmm... Huh? Ugh..."

Second Mother seemed to regain consciousness, letting out a faint breath. Instinctively trying to pull away from the son who had just choked her, she shifted her hips—only for her pussy to rub against the length of my fully erect cock, as if they were kissing.

More than love or hatred for Second Mother, it was the lust for this woman, Eun-bi, that surged within me.

Memories of Second Mother flashed through my mind—how she, the most domestic of my mothers, would cook for me when she wasn't sick, wipe food from my lips with her fingers, and then grab my wrist to force me into studying the Cult's doctrines and undergoing human experiments.

All those faces merged into one—the flushed expression of the woman now sitting on my lap.

"Mom."

For the first time in a long while, I let the word escape my lips.

Having nearly been choked unconscious by her son, Second Mother didn't seem to hear me, only shaking her hips weakly.

Even in her dazed state, she was grinding her pussy against my cock, using it to masturbate.

She had come into the shower naked, claiming she wanted to serve her son—no, the Heavenly Child—yet here she was, clumsily pleasuring herself instead of properly worshipping her god.

That very inexperience, that awkwardness—so unlike someone who had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever had sex before—was what turned me on the most.

I wrapped my arms tightly around her slender waist.

"Ahhk!"

She let out a pained sound from the force, but I didn't let go.

I hated myself for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hesitating again, but... I couldn't help it.

Because I was her son, not some false god of a cult.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Did that hurt? I'm really sorry... I won't do it again."

I nuzzled my face against her breasts like a spoiled child—something I could never do with my other mothers.

"Mmm, it's okay. Mom liked it too."

Second Mother patted my head as she spoke.

Her entire body was so pale it was almost translucent, yet her face was flushed red. The marks from my hands were still visible on her delicate neck, but she lied to comfort me.

Even though lying was forbidden in the Heavenly Mandate Cult, she chose her son over her religion.

That made me happier than anything. I buried my face deeper into her chest, rubbing against her.

"Ahh..."

Second Mother let out a strange sound. When I looked up, she was smiling awkwardly, blushing furiously as she whispered to me.

"Do you like Mom's chest?"

Guilt-ridden for nearly choking her unconscious, I felt like I had regressed to childhood as I mumbled,

"Yeah, I do."

"Then... do you want to suckle? ...You're probably too old for that now, though."

Maybe because I was acting like a child with her, the fanatical cultist in Second Mother had faded away, and she treated me like her son again.

"Here, go ahead. There's no real milk left, though."

She cupped one of her breasts and pushed it toward my face.

Even though I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was now a grown man, not a baby, I nodded eagerly and took her nipple into my mouth.

It tasted of motherhood.

Disappointingly, her nipple wasn't fully erect, so I flicked it with my tongue.

Driven by guilt for the pain I had caused her earlier, I lavished her with the kind of attention I had never even given Fourth Mother, coaxing her nipple to stiffen.

Second Mother blushed openly at my bold tongue work.

She looked so embarrassed, like she wanted to push me away immediately, but for her son's sake, she forced an awkward smile. That expression endeared her to me more than ever.

Because if she still saw me as the cult's god, she wouldn't be reacting like this.

Right now, Second Mother saw me as her son.

And that was the biggest reason I was continuing this incestuous act, despite the guilt.

'Only during sex... do we become mother and son again... This is insane. Absolutely insane.'

But even as I thought that, I couldn't stop sucking on her nipple.

For someone like me—starved of affection thanks to my cult-leader father and the mothers who used him as a puppet—the maternal warmth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flowing from Second Mother's nipple was unbearably sweet.

After years of thirst, even a single drop of that maternal love was enough to make my cock throb.

"Ahh...! Hnng...!"

Second Mother muffled her moans with one hand.

That didn't sit right with me, her son.

'We're mother and son. You don't need to hold back. You shouldn't be embarrassed.'

When I looked at her with that in my eyes, she made an excuse like any normal mother would.

"Third and Fourth are outside... What if they hear?"

'And yet you came in here naked with just a towel?'

Still holding her, I stretched out my leg and turned the faucet back on.

Sssshhhhh—

The sound of rushing water filled the shower room again.

Now, the sounds—Second Mother's stifled moans ("Ahh... Nngh...") and the wet noises of her son sucking on her nipples ("Schlllp, schlllp!")—stayed between us, shared only by mother and son.

The shower's spray turned the changing room into our own private chamber.

"That's enough, right? Stop holding back your moans. I want to hear them. I want to hear how you feel."

"Mmm, okay... But, son, you don't have to keep pleasuring me. You should focus on your own—Ahh! Nngh! ♥"

By now, my tongue had coaxed both her nipples to full hardness, cutting off her words.

Despite her frail health, her sensitivity seemed even better than Fourth Mother's amateurish pussy.

'It's too late now anyway. And not even First Mother could win against Second Mother's stubbornness. So I should just... give her what she wants... Yeah. I should cum. Right in front of Mom.'

Logically, I should've prioritized my own pleasure instead of continuing to suckle, but I immediately dismissed the thought.

Instead, I buried myself deeper into her chest.

But the guilt—the knowledge that this was wrong, that we were mother and son, that we shouldn't be doing this—never faded. It gnawed at me relentlessly.

Yet the thought that this was forbidden, that my life would be over if the others found out, only spiced up the taboo thrill.

It didn't stop me.

If anything, it was addictive.

"Mom, Mom, Mom..."

I groped her breasts, then gripped her waist—so slender compared to First Mother's curves—before pressing my face into her chest again.

She smelled like a baby.

To savor the guilt even more, I glanced at the shower room mirror.

A handsome young man was teasing a younger-looking woman's nipple with his tongue.

In this sexual dynamic, the man was overwhelmingly dominant—the one teaching the woman about sex.

A mother-son role reversal.

A world where normal mothers and sons should never tread.

Yet here we were, both already knee-deep in it.

And as her son, I was ready to dive even deeper.

"Mom, grab my cock."

"L-Like this?"

"Don't be so shy. Tighten your grip!"

"This...?"

"Don't just use your fingers. Use your whole hand."

"Mmm, okay."

"What are you doing? I said tighter!"

"O-Okay, okay. Don't get mad."

"You said you'd help me release my pent-up cum! How am I supposed to cum with a handjob this weak?"

"...I'm sorry. Mom's just bad at this."

"And that's something to be proud of? If you're bad, at least try to get better."

"...Sniff, I-I'm sorry, son. Mom's sorry for being so bad at this."

I took twisted pleasure in manipulating Second Mother—gentle and kind when not lost in fanaticism.

Right now, I was like the Cult Leader, controlling a woman as I pleased.

And it felt good.