Dan's world was a symphony of slick, wet sounds and his mother's gasping breaths. His cheek was pressed against the warm, impossibly soft swell of her inner thigh, her taste—a sweet, musky, addictive ambrosia—still coating his tongue. The air in her bedroom was thick with the scent of her: a heady perfume of milk, honey, and the sharp, clean tang of her arousal.
"Mmmph… oh, God, Danny… right there, baby, lick right there…"
Her voice was a ragged, melodic command. His entire universe had narrowed to the pink, glistening flesh beneath his mouth. Her cunt was a plump, dripping masterpiece, puffy lips spread obscenely wide by his fingers, her swollen clit a hard, needy pearl under the relentless, swirling flat of his tongue. Every lap, every suck, sent a fresh gush of her slick juices over his chin. Squelch. Slurp. Shlick.
He'd discovered her secret three months ago, on the night of his eighteenth birthday. The memory was a pornographic highlight reel in his mind: walking into the kitchen past midnight, seeing her at the sink, her robe loose, one massive, milk-heavy tit in her hand, a thin stream of white arcing into a glass. He'd gotten hard—a shocking, painful, delicious erection, the first of his new life. She'd turned, those ocean-deep eyes widening, not in horror, but in a hungry, predatory recognition. She hadn't said a word. Just walked over, took his hand, and placed it on the soaked, hot patch between her legs. That was the beginning. The addiction.
Now, it was a daily ritual. A sacred, filthy communion.
"Fuck, your tongue… uhnnn, it's like you were born for this," she moaned, her hips bucking off the mattress, driving her cunt harder against his face. Her hands fisted in his short, dark hair, not pushing, but guiding, holding him exactly where she needed him. "Yes! Just like that, don't stop, baby, Mommy's so close…"
He moaned into her, the vibration making her shriek. Born for this. He was. In this world of placid, sexless men and desperately frustrated women, he was the anomaly. A god of fuck. And she, Evelyn, was his goddess. At thirty-six, she was a vision of excessive, obscene fertility. Breasts so huge and heavy they defied gravity, capped with dark, wide areolae that constantly beaded with sweet milk. A waist that nipped in before flaring out into hips and an ass that was a truly planetary event—round, high, impossibly full, each cheek a separate universe of jiggling, clapping flesh. She was his mother. She was everything.
He slid two fingers into her sopping hole alongside his tongue, curling them upward. The internal walls of her cunt were like hot, wet velvet, clenching and rippling around his intrusion.
"Gah! Danny!" she screamed, her back arching. "There! There! My spot, fuck, rub it, rub it!"
He scissored his fingers, stretching her, feeling the incredible tightness give way to a slick, welcoming heat. The sounds were obscene. Squirtch. Glorp. Her juices flowed freely now, a river of clear, sticky fluid that soaked the sheets beneath her ass. He drank it greedily, each swallow a hit of the most potent drug. It was better than her milk, which she fed him every morning from her nipple like a suckling babe. This was her essence, her lust made liquid.
"I'm gonna… oh fuck, I'm gonna squirt all over your pretty face, baby," she panted, her words coming in ragged bursts. "You want that? You want Mommy to drown you?"
He pulled his mouth away just enough to gasp, "Yes. Please. Do it. Soak me."
"Beg for it."
"Please, Mommy. Please squirt on me. I want to taste it, I want to feel it, I want you to ruin me with it."
"Good boy," she purred, her voice dropping to a husky, dominant timbre that made his cock jerk painfully in his jeans. "Now watch."
She propped herself up on her elbows, her tits swaying heavily, nipples hard and leaking tiny droplets of milk. Her eyes, glazed with lust, locked onto his. Her fingers replaced his, plunging into her own dripping slit, spreading herself open for him to see everything. The deep pink interior, the clenching, fluttering muscles.
"Uhnnn… here it comes… get ready…"
Her abdomen tightened. A low, guttural groan tore from her throat. And then, with a sound like a shaken soda bottle being opened—PSSSSHHHT—a jet of clear fluid erupted from her cunt. It wasn't a trickle. It was a spray, a generous, arching stream that hit him square in the face. Splurt. Splat. The first burst was followed by a second, then a third, each one accompanied by a violent shudder of her entire body. Squelch. Gush. The fluid was warm, slightly sweet, with a musky undercurrent that was purely her. It soaked his hair, dripped from his eyebrows, ran into his open, waiting mouth.
"AAAAAHHHHHH! FUCK YES!" she screamed, her body convulsing on the bed, her ass slapping against the wet sheets. "DRINK IT! DRINK MOMMY'S SQUIRT!"
He obeyed, tongue out, swallowing eagerly as the torrent continued. It was endless. It was heaven. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on, wave after wave of fluid drenching him. Finally, with a last, shuddering sigh, she collapsed back, her chest heaving, a contented, filthy smile on her lips.
Dan knelt there, dripping, panting, his face glazed with her juices. He was so hard he thought the denim of his jeans might tear.
Evelyn looked at him, her eyes half-lidded. "Mmm. You look so pretty covered in me." She crooked a finger. "Come here. Let Mommy clean you up."
He crawled up the bed, his knees sinking into the wet spot. She sat up and pulled him into a deep, filthy kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth, tasting herself on him. The kiss was all wet, slick sounds and shared breath. She moaned into it, her hands cupping his face.
"My good, good boy," she whispered against his lips. "My perfect, perverted son. You have no idea what you do to me." Her hand slid down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, and palmed the enormous bulge in his jeans. "Oh. Look at this. This is all for me, isn't it?"
"Only for you," he gasped.
"Let me see it."
He fumbled with his belt and fly, his fingers clumsy with need. He shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock sprang free. It was thick, veiny, and achingly hard, a deep red at the tip, which was already beading with pre-cum. In this world, it was a weapon of mass destruction.
Evelyn's breath hitched. A low, hungry sound vibrated in her throat. "Every time," she murmured, her hand wrapping around the base. Her fingers didn't even touch. "Every fucking time I see it, I can't believe it's real." She began to stroke him, slowly, her grip firm. "You know the men here… their little things… they're just for pissing. Soft, little noodles." She spat the word with contempt, then looked at his cock with reverence. "But this… this is a cock. This is what a real man has. This is what my man has."
She leaned forward, her incredible tits spilling out of her nightgown, and took the head into her mouth.
The sensation was electric. Holy fuck. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. She didn't just suck; she worshipped. She lavished attention on every inch, her lips stretching to accommodate his girth. Slurp. Glrk. Mmmph. She made loud, obscene noises, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as if she was the one receiving.
"Taste so good," she mumbled around his shaft, pulling off with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected her lips to his glistening crown. "All that pre-cum… mmm… you're leaking for me." She licked the tip, collecting the clear drop. "It's like candy." Then she engulfed him again, taking him deeper, until the head nudged the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, then relaxed, taking more.
Dan's head fell back. "Mom… Evelyn… your mouth… fuck…"
She pulled off, gasping. "Call me Mommy when I have your cock in my mouth," she commanded, her voice husky. "I like it."
"Yes, Mommy," he moaned.
"Good boy." She went back down, bobbing her head faster now. One hand worked his shaft in tandem with her mouth, while the other squeezed and kneaded his balls. "Hnnng… you're so big… filling my whole mouth…" She released him again, panting. "I want to feel you fuck me. I want to feel this beautiful cock splitting me open. But first… I want to see you come. I want to watch it. I want to swallow every fucking drop. That's the rule, remember? My rule."
"Your rule," he echoed, his hips starting to thrust involuntarily into the warm cavern of her mouth.
She increased her pace, her head becoming a blur. The sounds were brutally wet. Slurp. Schlick. Gulp. Her cheeks hollowed, her throat working. She was a woman possessed, a woman who had been starved for this for thirty-six years and was now at an all-you-can-eat banquet. Her free hand slid between her own legs, fingers frantically rubbing her clit as she sucked him. Squelch. Squirtch. She was getting wet again already.
Dan could feel the pressure building, a tight, hot coil at the base of his spine. "Mommy… I'm gonna… I'm gonna come…"
She made an eager, hungry sound and took him as deep as she could, her nose buried in his pubic hair. Her eyes were wide, locked on his, silently demanding it.
The orgasm tore through him like a lightning strike. It wasn't a single pulse; it was a volley. A torrent.
"UHNNNGGG! FUCK!" he roared, his back arching.
The first shot hit the back of her throat with a thick splurt. She gulped, but the sheer volume was overwhelming. The second pulse, even thicker, filled her mouth, white, viscous cum bubbling over her lips. Gloop. Glrk. The third made her pull back, the jet of his release painting her chin, her neck, splattering across the magnificent slope of her breasts. It just kept coming. Splort. Splat. Rope after rope of hot, sticky seed coated her face, her hair, her tits. It was gallons. An impossible, pornographic amount. It dripped, it pooled, it drowned her.
She kept her mouth open, trying to swallow, but it was too much. It filled her mouth and overflowed, a thick, white cascade. "Mmmph! Hnnng!" she moaned, her throat working furiously, her tongue lapping at the streams on her face. She was reveling in it, rubbing his cum into her skin like lotion, scooping it off her tits and sucking it from her fingers.
Finally, the geyser subsided. Dan slumped forward, spent, his cock still twitching, dripping the last few drops onto the messy, cum-slicked valley between her breasts.
Evelyn was a vision of debauchery. Her face was a glazed mask, her eyelashes sticky. She smiled, a wide, ecstatic, cum-covered smile. "Oh, baby…" she breathed, her voice hoarse. "That was… incredible. Look at this mess. Look what you did to Mommy." She scooped a large glob from her cheek and held it up to his lips. "Taste. Taste how good you are."
He leaned in and licked her fingers clean, the salty, musky flavor of his own release mixing with her taste on her skin. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
"My turn," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with a new hunger. She pushed him back until he was lying in the middle of the bed. She swung one leg over him, straddling his hips, her soaked, swollen cunt hovering just above his still-hard cock. The head brushed against her slippery folds, and they both shuddered.
"I need you inside me, Danny," she said, her voice low and urgent. "I need to feel you own this pussy. I need you to breed me."
The word sent a jolt through him. Breed. In this world, the concept was clinical. A necessary, passionless procedure. From her lips, it was a filthy, sacred vow.
"Yes," he hissed.
She reached down, took his cock in her hand, and guided it to her entrance. She notched the broad head against her slick opening and paused, her eyes locked on his. "Tell me what you want."
"I want to fuck you, Mommy. I want to be inside you. I want to fill you up."
"How do you want to fuck me?" Her voice was a teasing, dominant purr.
"I want… I want you to ride me. I want to watch your tits bounce. I want to see your face when you come on my cock."
"Good answer." She sank down.
The sensation was unreal. She was so fucking tight, a scalding, wet vise that stretched impossibly around his girth. He could feel every inch of her inner walls gripping him, welcoming him, milking him already. She took him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, her mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure.
"Oooohhhh my Gggggod…" she finally gasped, when he was fully sheathed inside her. Her cunt clenched around him in a sudden, violent spasm. "Fuck… you're so big… you're splitting me open…" She began to move, rising up until just the tip remained inside, then slamming back down with a wet, meaty smack. Her ass cheeks rippled with the impact. Clap. Slap.
The rhythm was brutal, beautiful. Her tits bounced and jiggled wildly, milk leaking from her nipples in tiny white streams that painted his chest. She rode him like a woman possessed, her hips rolling, grinding, slamming down over and over. Squish. Thwap. Splurt. The sound of their joining was a continuous, sloppy symphony.
"Harder!" she demanded, her hands braced on his chest, her nails digging into his skin. "Grab my ass! Fucking pound me from below!"
He obeyed, his hands flying to the glorious, massive orbs of her ass. He squeezed, he kneaded, he spread her cheeks, watching his cock disappear into her slick, stretched hole with each downward thrust. He met her movements, driving upward, hilting himself inside her with every slam.
"Yes! Just like that! Oh fuck, right there! You're hitting so deep! I can feel you in my fucking stomach!" she screamed, her head thrown back, her neck corded.
"Your pussy is so good, Mommy," he grunted, the breath punched out of him with each impact. "So fucking tight and wet… shit… you're milking my cock…"
"It's your pussy!" she shrieked, her eyes blazing down at him. "Say it!"
"It's my pussy!"
"Who does this cunt belong to?!"
"Me!" he roared.
She leaned forward, her sweat-slicked breasts pressing against his chest, her mouth by his ear. Her pace didn't slow; if anything, it became more frantic, more desperate. "Then ruin it," she whispered, her voice a dark, hot promise. "Make it so only your cock will ever fit. Break it and fill it with your cum. I want to feel you paint my fucking womb white. Do it, Danny. Breed your Mommy."
Her words were the final trigger. The coil in his guts snapped. With a guttural roar, he slammed up into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and held her there as he erupted.
This orgasm was deeper, more profound. It wasn't a volley fired outward; it was a flood released within. He felt the first violent pulse travel up his shaft and explode from his tip, deep inside her cervix. Splurt. A hot, thick jet of seed coating the very entrance to her womb. The second pulse followed, even more intense, a river of cum filling her channel, glooping and churning as it mixed with her own copious juices.
"I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING INSIDE YOU!" he shouted, his body rigid.
Evelyn's reaction was instantaneous. She screamed, a raw, primal sound of utter surrender. Her cunt clamped down on him in a series of brutal, rhythmic spasms, milking his cock for every drop. At the same time, another torrent of her squirt gushed out around their joined bodies, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath them in a hot, clear flood. Gush. Ssssshhht. It was a simultaneous eruption, her inner walls convulsing around his pumping cock, her juices mingling with his seed.
He could feel it inside her. The incredible, expanding warmth. The way her cervix seemed to flutter, to drink him in. He kept coming, the orgasm seeming to last for minutes, filling her beyond capacity. A thin trickle of white began to seep out around the base of his cock, proof of the unbelievable volume.
Slowly, the world came back into focus. He was still inside her, both of them panting, slick with sweat and cum and squirt. She collapsed on top of him, her full weight a comforting, heavenly pressure. Her breath was hot against his neck.
"Mmm," she hummed, nuzzling him. "I can feel it… sloshing inside me. So much… so fucking much…" She shifted slightly, and a fresh, warm trickle of their combined fluids leaked out. "You filled me, baby. You really did."
She lifted her head, her cum-streaked face glowing with satisfaction. She looked down at where they were still joined, at the mess they'd made. Then she looked at him, her eyes soft, dominant, and utterly loving.
"You're mine," she stated, her voice firm. "And I'm yours. This…" she gestured vaguely at the room, at their entangled bodies, "...this is our secret. Our perfect, filthy, beautiful secret." She kissed him, deep and slow. When she pulled away, she smirked. "And tomorrow… we're going to talk about what you said you wanted. About me being your wife. About you being my good boy… all the time."
She shifted, finally letting his softening cock slip from her with a wet, messy schlorp. A gush of white followed, pooling on his stomach. She sighed, a sound of pure contentment, and curled into his side, one hand possessively resting on his chest.
"But for now," she murmured, her eyes already drifting shut, "Mommy's very, very full. And very, very happy."
------X------
The first sensation was warmth. A slow, steady drip of something impossibly sweet and musky hitting his tongue. Dan swam up from the depths of a dreamless, sated sleep, his mouth opening instinctively. The next drip was more substantial, a fat, warm drop that landed on the back of his throat. He swallowed reflexively, and the taste exploded—Evelyn. Her unique, addictive squirt.
His eyes fluttered open. The world was a dim, early-morning gray, his bedroom ceiling coming into focus. But the weight on his chest and the glorious, suffocating pressure on his face were unmistakable. He was on his back. And she was on his face.
Evelyn was straddling him, her knees planted on either side of his head, her body a magnificent, shadowy silhouette against the dawn light filtering through his blinds. Her enormous ass was perched just above his forehead, the full, heavy cheeks smothering his peripheral vision. But the center of his universe was lower. The hot, dripping epicenter of her was positioned directly over his mouth.
"Mmm… there he is," her voice purred from above, thick with sleep and lust. He felt her shift, her hips grinding down in a slow, deliberate circle. The soaked, swollen lips of her pussy dragged across his mouth, painting his lips with her slickness. Squelch. Shlick.
Another gush of her fluid escaped, not a full squirt but a hot, steady leak that poured into his waiting mouth. Gloop. Drip. He drank it greedily, his tongue already snaking out to lick the length of her slit.
"That's it, baby," she moaned, her voice breathy. "Drink your breakfast. Mommy's been holding this for you all night. Uhnn… I woke up so fucking wet for you."
She rose up slightly, giving him better access, and Dan attacked her cunt with a desperate hunger. His hands flew to her ass, his fingers sinking into the impossibly soft, jiggling flesh of her cheeks. He spread them, opening her up to his gaze and his tongue. In the low light, her pussy was a dark, glistening flower, puffy and dripping, her asshole a tight, pink pucker just inches from his nose. The scent was overpowering—a rich, musky perfume of her sleep-arousal, a thousand times more potent than yesterday's.
He zeroed in on her clit, already hard and throbbing. He sucked it into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive bud.
"OH! FUCK!" she shrieked, her entire body jerking. Her hands slammed down on his headboard for balance. "Right there! Yes! Suck it!"
He obeyed, worshiping her clit with lips and tongue, tracing the intricate folds of her labia, plunging his tongue as deep into her hole as it would go. Slurp. Glorp. Her juices flowed freely, a constant stream of sweet, sticky nectar that he swallowed in gulps. Gulp. Swallow.
"Deeper!" she demanded, riding his face now, fucking herself onto his tongue. "Use your fingers! I need to feel you stretch me open, baby!"
He pulled one hand from her ass and shoved two fingers into her sopping cunt alongside his tongue. She was so fucking tight, even now, her inner walls clenching and rippling around the intrusion. He curled them, searching for that spongy spot inside her.
"YES! THERE!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "Rub it! Fucking rub my spot while you suck my clit!"
He did, scissoring his fingers, rubbing that rough, magical patch of flesh in firm, circular motions. The response was instantaneous. Her thighs began to tremble violently around his head. A fresh, hot flood of her juices soaked his chin, his neck, the pillow beneath him. Gush. Splurt.
"I'm gonna squirt! I'm gonna fucking drown you!" she panted, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "You want that? You want Mommy to piss her nasty juices all over your pretty face?"
He pulled his mouth away just enough to gasp, his voice muffled by her flesh. "Please! Do it! Soak me! I want it!"
"Beg louder!"
"PLEASE, MOMMY!" he roared, the sound vibrating against her cunt. "Squirt on me! Piss on me! I want to drink it all! I want you to ruin me!"
Her answer was a guttural, animalistic groan that seemed to tear from the very core of her being. Her abdomen clenched under his gaze, her back arched.
And then it happened.
It wasn't a spray this time. It was a deluge.
A hot, powerful jet of clear fluid erupted from her cunt with the force of a firehose. PSSSSHHHHHTTT! It hit him square in the face, a relentless, drenching stream. Sploosh. Splat. It filled his nostrils, his open mouth, blinded him for a second. It was warm, slightly salty, overwhelmingly her. The sheer volume was staggering. It wasn't stopping. It kept coming, wave after wave, each pulse of her orgasm triggering another geyser. Gush. Ssssshhht. Gloop.
"AAAAAHHHHH! YES! DRINK IT! DRINK IT ALL, YOU LITTLE CUM-SLUT!" she screamed, her body convulsing atop him, her ass slamming down onto his face, grinding her squirting cunt against his mouth and nose. "SWALLOW EVERY DROP MOMMY GIVES YOU!"
He was drowning in her. He drank frantically, swallowing, gasping, choking, loving every second of it. His cock was a rigid, throbbing iron bar trapped between his stomach and the mattress, leaking pre-cum in a steady stream that soaked the sheets beneath his hips. He was addicted. This was his religion.
Finally, the torrent began to slow to a trickle, then to a few last, spasming drips. Drip. Drip. Evelyn slumped forward, her weight fully on him, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps. Her entire body was slick with sweat, her massive tits pressed against his chest, milk already leaking from her nipples and mixing with the squirt-slick on his skin.
She lifted her head slowly, her face flushed, her eyes wild and satisfied. She looked down at him. He was a mess. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his face glistening and sticky, his lips swollen.
"Mmm," she hummed, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face. "Look at you. My personal little toilet." She leaned down and licked a stripe up his cheek, collecting her own juices. "You taste so good covered in me." She kissed him, a deep, filthy, squirt-flavored kiss. When she pulled back, her eyes were serious, dominant. "You begged so nicely. You asked for it. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"
"What?" he breathed, his hands still gripping her ass.
"Hearing you beg for me to degrade you… to use you…" She shifted her hips, grinding her still-dripping pussy against his chest. "It makes me want to own you completely. It makes me want to hear you ask for worse things."
A thrill shot through him. "Like what?"
She smirked. "We'll see. But first…" She climbed off him, the movement fluid and predatory. She stood beside the bed, a goddess of flesh and desire, completely naked, her body still gleaming. "Get up. On your knees. Right here." She pointed to the floor beside the bed.
Dan scrambled to obey, his stiff cock bobbing painfully as he knelt before her. The morning light was stronger now, illuminating every perfect curve, every droplet of their combined fluids on her skin.
"Look at this," she commanded, spreading her pussy lips with her fingers, showing him the pink, swollen, well-used flesh. "Look at what you did. It's still gaping. It's still dripping with your spit and my squirt." A thick strand of clear fluid stretched from her opening to her thigh. "Clean it up."
He didn't need to be told twice. He lunged forward, burying his face between her legs, his tongue lapping at her folds, drinking the last remnants of her orgasm, cleaning every inch of her. Lap. Slurp. Schlick. She tasted even more intense now, a concentrated essence of her pleasure. He sucked her clit gently, making her gasp, then pushed his tongue as deep inside her as he could.
"Ohhh… good boy," she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair. "Such a good, obedient little tongue." She guided his head, rocking her hips against his face. After a minute, she pulled him back. "Enough. Now… I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you script it for me. Tell me what you are. Use the words I like."
Dan's heart hammered against his ribs. He looked up at her, at the powerful, dominant love in her eyes. This was it. The verbal surrender she craved. He took a deep breath.
"I'm your son," he began, his voice shaky but clear. "I'm your perverted, addicted son. I'm a slut for your cunt. I'm a toilet for your squirt. I live to drink your juices and worship your body. My mouth belongs to you. My cock belongs to you. I'm nothing without your taste on my tongue."
Her breath hitched. A flush of dark arousal spread across her chest. "Yes…" she whispered. "And what do you want?"
"I want you to be my wife. I want you to own me. I want you to dominate me gently. I want you to make me beg for your degradation every day. I want to be your good boy… forever."
A single tear traced a path through the dried squirt on her cheek. But it wasn't a tear of sadness. It was one of profound, overwhelming release. "Fuck, Danny…" she breathed. She cupped his face. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear someone say that… to mean that." She pulled him to his feet. "Now, my good boy… I believe you have something for me that's painfully hard. And I believe I have a pussy that's painfully empty."
She pushed him back onto the edge of the bed. "Sit."
He sat. His cock stood straight up, thick and veiny, the head an angry purple, slick with his own pre-cum and her residual juices.
Evelyn stood before him, her eyes feasting on it. "Every time," she murmured, sinking to her knees on the floor between his legs. She didn't touch it with her hands. Instead, she leaned forward and presented her incredible breasts to him. "Look at these. They're so full. They ache. Be a good boy and help Mommy with them first."
She took his cock and nestled it between the massive, soft, milk-heavy globes of her tits. The sensation was incredible—warm, silky, unbelievably soft. Her cleavage swallowed his shaft completely, the head poking out the top, brushing against her chin. Her skin was fever-hot and smelled of milk and her own scent.
"Ohhh, fuck…" Dan groaned, his head falling back.
"Watch," she commanded, her voice husky. She squeezed her tits together around his cock, creating a tight, slick tunnel of flesh. Then she began to move, sliding her breasts up and down his length. Schlick. Slurp. The sound was wet and lewd. Her nipples, dark and pebbled, dragged along the underside of his shaft. Milk began to seep from the tips, lubricating the passage further, mixing with his pre-cum into a white, sticky emulsion. Squish. Glorp.
"You like that?" she purred, looking up at him through her lashes. "You like fucking Mommy's big, soft tits? They were made for this. Made to worship a real cock."
"Yes… God, yes…" he panted. His hands clenched the bedsheet.
"Tell me what you want to do with them."
"I want to cum all over them," he gasped. "I want to paint them white. I want to see your milk and my cum mixing together."
"Mmm, good boy. But not yet." She increased her pace, her tits jiggling and bouncing with the motion. The friction was unbelievable, the soft pressure and the wet, milky heat driving him wild. He could feel his balls tightening already.
"Mommy… I'm close…"
"I know you are," she said, her voice a low, dominant hum. She stopped suddenly, releasing his cock with a wet pop. It slapped back against his stomach, glistening with milk and spit. "But I didn't say you could come." She rose to her feet, her expression one of playful, absolute control. "I want to be full of you again. I want to feel you breeding me in a different way. Get on the bed. On your hands and knees."
Confused but achingly aroused, Dan scrambled onto the bed, assuming the position. He was on all fours, his ass in the air, his cock hanging heavy beneath him.
He heard her move behind him. Then he felt her hands on his hips, her body pressing against his back. Her tits flattened against his spine, her nipples hard points of heat. But she wasn't aligning herself with his cock. Instead, her hand snaked between his legs from behind, cupping his balls, weighing them.
"So full," she whispered in his ear, her breath hot. "So heavy with cum for me." Her other hand trailed down the cleft of his ass. "Have you ever thought about this, Danny? About how completely I could own you?"
Her fingertip brushed against his tight, untouched hole.
Dan jerked, a shock of entirely new sensation shooting up his spine. "Oh!"
"Shhh," she soothed, her voice gentle but firm. "It's okay. I'd never hurt you. I'd never do anything you don't want. But I want you to think about it. About giving me everything. Every part of you." She pressed a little more firmly, a circling, teasing pressure. "Would you be my good boy and let Mommy make you feel good here, too? Someday?"
The thought was terrifying and unbelievably arousing. To be that vulnerable, that completely possessed. "I… I think so," he stammered.
"Good." She removed her finger, but the phantom sensation remained. "That's for another day. A day when you beg me for it." She kissed his shoulder blade. "Today… I want you to fuck me like this. I want to see that gorgeous ass of yours working while you fill up my pussy."
She guided him to turn around. Now he was kneeling, and she was on her hands and knees before him, presenting her own ass to him. It was a breathtaking sight. The two perfect, round globes, each one larger than his head, pale and smooth, with a deep, shadowy cleft between them. At the bottom of that cleft, her pussy was visibly swollen and dripping, a slick, pink flower nestled between her thighs. And just above it, that tight, pink pucker he'd just been thinking about.
"Look at it," she said, glancing back over her shoulder, her face a mask of lust. "This is yours. This ass, this pussy. Take it. Fuck it from behind. And I want you to choke me while you do it."
The command sent a fresh jolt of fire to his cock. He moved closer on his knees, his hands settling on the glorious swell of her hips. The head of his cock found her soaking entrance, nudging against it. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, and brought one hand up to her throat. He wrapped his fingers around the column of her neck, not squeezing, just holding. He felt her swallow under his palm.
"Yes…" she sighed, pushing back against him. "Like that. You own me. Now fuck me."
He pushed forward.
The penetration from this angle was even more intense. He felt every inch of her tight, gripping heat as he slid inside. She was so fucking deep like this, the angle letting him reach places he couldn't when she was on top. Schlorp. He buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, slow thrust, his pelvis meeting the soft, heavy flesh of her ass cheeks with a soft smack.
"GAH! FUCK! DANNY!" she screamed, her head dropping between her shoulders. "So deep! Oh my God, you're in my fucking cervix!"
He began to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. The sound was a wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, punctuated by the juicy squelch of her cunt taking his cock. Slap. Squelch. Slap. Squelch. Her ass jiggled and rippled with every impact, a mesmerizing, hypnotic display. He tightened his grip on her throat, just a little, feeling the power it gave him, even as he was following her command.
"Harder!" she begged, her voice strained. "Pound me! Break me! Make my pussy remember this cock forever!"
He obeyed, his hips pistoning faster, driving into her with brutal, mindless force. The bed rocked and creaked in protest. He could see everything—the way her stretched hole clung to his shaft, the way her juices leaked out with each withdrawal, the way her ass trembled. He leaned down, biting her shoulder gently, then licking the spot.
"You feel… unbelievable…" he grunted, the words punched out of him. "Your ass… fuck… I can't stop looking at it…"
"It's yours!" she cried. "Spank it! Mark it!"
He brought his free hand down in a sharp, stinging crack on her right cheek. The flesh jiggled violently, a red handprint blooming on the pale skin. She shrieked, her cunt clamping down on him like a vise.
"YES! AGAIN!"
He spanked the other cheek. Smack! Then the first again. Thwack! He alternated, spanking her glorious ass as he fucked her senseless, the slaps echoing in the room alongside their moans and the wet slap of sex.
"I'm gonna… I'm gonna breed you again, Mommy," he warned, his rhythm becoming erratic, his balls drawing up tight.
"Do it!" she screamed, pushing back against him ferociously. "Fill my womb! Knock me up! I want your babies! I want to feel your cum fertilizing my eggs! Do it, Danny! BREED YOUR WIFE!"
Her words—your wife—shattered the last of his control. With a roar that was part triumph, part surrender, he slammed into her one final time, hilting himself as deep as he could possibly go, and erupted.
This orgasm was different. It felt deeper, more primal, more procreative. He could feel the first violent surge travel the length of his shaft and then explode directly against the mouth of her cervix. SPLURT. A hot, thick jet of seed that seemed to coat the very entrance to her womb. The second pulse was a flood, a river of cum that filled her channel, glooping and churning as it rushed forward to meet the first. GLOOP. SPLOOSH.
"I'M CUMMING! I'M FILLING YOU UP!" he bellowed, his body rigid, his hand tightening on her throat in his ecstasy.
Evelyn's orgasm met his. She screamed, a raw, guttural sound that was pure animal pleasure. Her pussy clamped down on him in a series of brutal, rhythmic spasms, milking his cock for every last drop. Another gush of her squirt joined the mess, jetting out around their joined bodies and soaking his balls and thighs in hot fluid. GUSH. SSSHHHT. It was a simultaneous eruption, a perfect, filthy feedback loop of pleasure.
He kept coming. And coming. The volume was, as always, obscene. He could feel it inside her, the incredible, expanding warmth, the way her cervix seemed to flutter and drink him in. A thin, steady stream of white began to seep out almost immediately around the base of his cock, proof of the unbelievable overflow. Drip. Drip. Gloop.
Slowly, the world returned. He was still buried inside her, both of them panting, dripping, utterly spent. He released his grip on her throat and gently massaged the skin. She moaned, leaning back into him.
He softened inside her, and with a wet, messy schlorp, he slipped out. A gush of white followed, pouring out of her well-used hole and dripping onto the sheets below. She collapsed forward onto her stomach, her ass in the air, a picture of complete, bred surrender.
Dan collapsed beside her, his body humming with exhaustion and satiation. After a moment, she rolled onto her side, facing him. Her face was sweaty, her makeup smudged, but she was smiling, a soft, sated, dominant smile.
She reached between her legs, gathered a large glob of the mixed cum and squirt that was leaking from her, and held it up to his lips. "Taste," she whispered. "Taste what we made."
He leaned in and licked her fingers clean, the complex, musky, salty flavor of their union exploding on his tongue.
"My good boy," she murmured, scooting closer and kissing him softly. "My husband." She said it like a test, like a promise.
"My wife," he answered against her lips.
She pulled back, her eyes serious. "We need to talk about what that means. For real. The world outside this room… it's not ready for us. We'll have to be careful. So, so careful." She traced his jaw with a sticky finger. "But in here… in here, you are mine. And I am going to make you beg for more degradation. I'm going to train you to love every filthy thing I want to do to you." Her eyes gleamed. "Starting with you learning to love the taste of everything that comes out of me. Everything."
Dan's spent cock gave a feeble, interested twitch. The promise in her voice was more arousing than any physical touch. He was about to ask what she meant when she swung her legs off the bed.
"But first," she said, standing with a wince and a soft, wet trickle down her thigh, "we need a shower. And you're going to wash every inch of me. And then…" she looked at him, a playful, wicked light in her eyes, "…then maybe I'll let you taste something new. Something darker. If you ask for it very nicely."
------X------
The shower was a baptism of filth, a ritual of slick skin and steaming water and the lingering, musky perfume of their sex. Dan scrubbed every inch of Evelyn's body with a reverence that bordered on worship, his soapy hands sliding over the soft, heavy swell of her tits, kneading the solid, jiggling flesh of her ass, tracing the curve of her spine. She let him, her head tilted back under the spray, a soft smile on her lips. Her body was a canvas of their morning—faint red handprints on her cheeks, the sticky, drying trails of his cum leaking slowly from her used cunt.
When he knelt to wash her legs, his face was level with her pussy. The hot water sluiced over it, but the scent remained—a potent, intoxicating musk. He couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her swollen outer lips.
She looked down, her eyes heavy-lidded. "Mmm. Miss me already?"
"Always," he murmured, his voice rough.
She carded her fingers through his wet hair. "You're so good to me. My perfect, perverted boy." Her thumb traced his lower lip. "I have a new lesson for you today. A new way to be good."
He looked up, his heart thumping against his ribs. "What is it?"
Her smile was pure, wicked promise. "Finish cleaning me. Then we'll see."
After the shower, she led him back to her bedroom, not his. The air was still thick with the smell of their earlier breeding. She didn't bother with clothes. She simply walked to the foot of her large bed, turned her back to him, and bent over, planting her hands on the rumpled covers.
Her ass was a breathtaking monument. The twin globes were pale and perfect, full enough to cast deep shadows in the cleft between them. Her pussy was still puffy and glistening from the shower, but his eyes were drawn higher, to the tight, pink star of her asshole.
"Come here," she said, her voice muffled slightly by the mattress.
Dan approached, his cock already stirring again, thick and interested.
"Look at me," she commanded. "Look at what's dirty."
He looked. From this angle, he could see everything. The smooth, untouched skin of her inner thighs. The delicate, wrinkled furl of her anus. And… he saw it. A tiny, glistening smear, right on the very edge of that tight hole. A faint, translucent trace of her earlier juices, mixed perhaps with a trace of their sweat, of the world itself. It wasn't much. But it was there.
"Do you see it?" she asked.
"Yes," he breathed.
"I'm not clean back there," she said, her tone conversational, yet layered with dominant intent. "A good husband would make sure his wife is clean. Everywhere. Wouldn't he?"
The implication hung in the air, thick and heavy. Dan's mouth went dry even as his cock twitched, filling rapidly.
"Everywhere," she repeated, wiggling her hips slightly. The movement made her ass jiggle, a mesmerizing, hypnotic ripple of flesh.
"You… you want me to…" he couldn't even say it. The thought was so taboo, so filthy, it short-circuited his brain even as it sent a flood of heat straight to his groin.
"I want you to clean me, Danny," she said, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "With your mouth. With your tongue. I want you to taste me there. I want you to make me spotless. Are you my good boy?"
He was already on his knees. The plush carpet pressed into his shins. The scent of her, of that specific part of her, filled his nostrils—musky, intimate, profoundly her. He didn't hesitate. This was worship. This was submission. This was everything he craved.
He leaned forward, his hands settling on the soft, cool skin of her ass cheeks. He spread them gently, opening her up. The view was obscene and beautiful. Her asshole was a tight, wrinkled pucker, the tiny smear of residue glinting in the light. He took a deep breath, the scent filling his head, making him dizzy with desire.
Then he pressed his face forward.
His tongue, warm and wet, made first contact. It wasn't on the hole itself, but on the smooth skin just beside it. A slow, broad swipe. Lick.
The taste was complex. Salt. Skin. A hint of her unique, musky perfume. Her. It was her. He moaned against her flesh, the vibration making her jump.
"Ohhh…" she sighed, pushing her hips back towards his face. "Yes. Just like that. Clean me."
He focused on the task, his movements becoming more deliberate. He licked long, slow stripes from the very top of her cleft, down over her asshole, and further down to where her pussy began. Schlick. Lap. He swirled his tongue around the tight little ring, applying gentle, teasing pressure. He didn't push inside. Not yet. He was cleansing the outside, lapping away the tiny bit of dirt, savoring the intimate, forbidden flavor.
"Deeper," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "Don't be shy. Get it all."
He obeyed. He pressed the flat of his tongue firmly against her hole, laving it thoroughly. Then he pointed his tongue and gave a soft, insistent push.
The resistance was immediate, a tight, muscular clench. Then, with a soft, wet pop, the very tip of his tongue slipped inside. Glrk.
The sensation was incredible. The heat. The impossible tightness. The taste intensified, becoming more concentrated, more primal. He groaned, the sound muffled by her flesh, and began to fuck her ass with his tongue in shallow, rapid thrusts. Glrk. Glrk. Schlick.
"FUCK!" she screamed, her body convulsing. Her hands fisted in the sheets. "Oh my GOD! Your tongue! In my ass!"
He was lost in it. The texture, the taste, the complete and utter submission of the act. He was her toilet. Her cleaner. Her devoted slave. He lapped and probed, his nose buried in the crease of her ass, breathing her in. He felt her muscles fluttering around his invading tongue, clenching and releasing in tiny, rhythmic spasms.
"You're doing so good," she panted, her voice ragged. "You're making Mommy so clean. So pure for you. Ah! Right there!"
He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving as deep as it could go, twisting and swirling. He was drowning in her scent, her taste, the sheer rightness of it. His cock was a throbbing, leaking rod of need, untouched and straining against his stomach.
Then, a new sound.
A low, deep gurgle. From inside her.
He froze, his tongue still inside her.
She went rigid. Then she let out a soft, shaky sigh. "Oh, baby…" she whispered, her voice thick with a strange mixture of shame and overwhelming arousal. "I think… I think your cleaning… is making Mommy have to go."
Dan's brain stalled. Have to go. The words echoed. He understood. His tongue, working her so intimately, was stimulating more than just her nerves. It was stirring something deeper. A biological need.
A wave of pure, undiluted heat crashed through him. The filthiness of it. The absolute degradation. The intimacy. It was the ultimate act of service. The ultimate proof of his devotion.
He pulled his tongue out with a wet schlop. He didn't move his face away. He kept his mouth right there, his lips hovering over her tightly clenched hole. He looked up the magnificent curve of her back. "Do it," he said, his voice husky and raw.
She shuddered. "What?"
"If you have to go… go. Let me… let me take care of it."
"Danny…" Her voice was a mix of awe and horror. "That's… that's too much. That's…"
"It's not," he insisted, his own arousal making him bold. "You said everything that comes out of you. You said you'd train me to love it. I want it. Please, Mommy. Let me be your toilet. For everything."
The silence stretched. He could hear her breathing, fast and shallow. He could see the muscles in her ass clenching and unclenching. The low gurgle came again, louder this time. Grrrrgl.
"You're a filthy, filthy boy," she breathed, but there was no condemnation in it. Only wonder. And a dark, thrilling excitement.
"I'm your filthy boy," he corrected, his lips brushing her skin. "Do it. I'm ready."
He heard her take a deep, shuddering breath. Then she relaxed. Completely. The tight ring of muscle under his lips softened, opened.
A hot, powerful stream of liquid hit his waiting lips.
It wasn't clear like her squirt. It was darker, warmer, carrying a bitter, salty, deeply organic scent. It was piss. It splashed against his closed lips, then, as he opened his mouth, it poured inside. Splsssh. Glug.
The taste was shocking. Bitter. Salty. Unmistakably her, but a different, deeper, more fundamental her. It was the taste of her body's waste, the most intimate offering she could give. He didn't fight it. He welcomed it. He opened his throat and drank, swallowing the hot, steady stream as it flowed from her. Gulp. Swallow. Gulp.
She was moaning above him, a continuous, low, shaky sound of disbelief and intense pleasure. "Ohhhh, fuck… you're drinking it… you're really drinking my piss…"
He was. He drank every drop, his mouth sealed tight around her, his throat working. The stream was strong and seemingly endless, filling his mouth, coating his tongue, sliding down his throat. It was the most degrading, most beautiful thing he had ever done. He was her receptacle. Her vessel. He was consuming a part of her no one else ever would or could.
The flow began to taper off, becoming a trickle, then a few last, hot drips. Drip. Drip. He licked her clean, swiping his tongue over her now-relaxed hole, collecting the last remnants. The taste was stronger now, concentrated. He savored it, committing it to memory.
When he finally pulled back, he was panting. His face was wet. His mouth tasted of salt and her. He looked up at her.
She was still bent over, trembling. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her face was flushed a deep, dark red. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mixture of shock, awe, and raw, unfiltered lust.
"You… you drank it all," she whispered.
He nodded, unable to speak, his throat still working.
A slow, wicked, utterly proud smile spread across her face. "My God. You are perfect." She straightened up, turning to face him. Her gaze dropped to his cock, which was rock hard and dripping a steady stream of pre-cum onto the carpet. "Look at you. You're dripping for me. You loved that."
"I did," he croaked. "I love everything. Everything you are."
She sank to her knees in front of him, her eyes level with his throbbing erection. She didn't touch it. She just stared at it, her expression one of rapt fascination. "You have the most beautiful cock in the world," she murmured, almost to herself. "It's mine. And it gets hard for the filthiest things." She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. "Tell me what you want now. Be specific. Use your filthy words."
His mind was a haze of need. He knew what he wanted. He wanted her. All of her. In the most primal way possible. "I want to fuck you," he said, his voice rough. "I want to fuck you right after I drank your piss. I want to taste it on your lips when I kiss you. I want to feel it inside me when I'm inside you. I want to breed you while I still taste your waste in my mouth."
Her breath caught. A fresh flood of her arousal, sweet and musky, filled the air. She leaned forward and, without warning, wrapped her lips around the head of his cock.
The sensation was electric. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around his sensitive tip, lapping up the pre-cum that had pooled there. Slurp. Schlick. She took him deeper, her head bobbing slowly, her throat working as she swallowed him down. Glrk. Gulp.
He groaned, his hands tangling in her damp hair. "Mommy…"
She pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his shiny head. "On the bed," she commanded, her voice husky. "On your back. I want to ride you. I want to look in your eyes while I milk that perfect cock with my filthy, used cunt."
He scrambled onto the bed, lying on his back. She climbed over him, straddling his hips. She was dripping already, her pussy lips swollen and glistening, a mixture of her natural juices and, he knew, the lingering trace of what he'd just done for her. The scent of it, of them, was overpowering.
She reached down and guided him to her entrance. The head of his cock nudged against her soaked folds. She didn't sink down immediately. She rubbed herself against him, coating his length in her slickness, making him groan with anticipation.
"Tell me again," she demanded, her eyes locked on his. "Tell me what you are."
"I'm your toilet," he gasped, the words spilling out. "I'm your piss-drinking, cunt-worshiping, addicted son. I'm the man who's going to put a baby in your womb. I'm yours."
A tear, pure and clear, tracked down her cheek. "Yes," she whispered. Then she lowered herself onto him.
The penetration was slow, agonizing, perfect. He watched, mesmerized, as her body swallowed his inch by glorious inch. Her tight, hot channel stretched to accommodate his girth, her inner walls rippling and clutching at him in welcome. Schloooop. When she was fully seated, her ass resting on his thighs, he was buried to the hilt, his pelvis pressed flush against her. He could feel her cervix, a soft, yielding barrier at his very tip.
"Fuuuuck…" she moaned, throwing her head back. Her massive tits bounced with the motion, her nipples hard and dark. "You feel… you feel like you're branding me from the inside. I can still feel your tongue in my ass… and now your cock is in my pussy… oh God…"
She began to move. Not with the frantic, desperate pace of earlier, but with a slow, deep, grinding rhythm. She rolled her hips, swirling them, making his cock rub against every sensitive spot inside her. Squish. Glorp. The wet, sloppy sounds of their joining filled the room.
Dan reached up, his hands finding her breasts. They were heavy and full in his palms, milk already beading at the tips of her nipples. He squeezed gently, and twin streams of warm, sweet milk arced out, landing on his chest and stomach. Squirt. Splat.
"Yes!" she cried, arching into his touch. "Play with them! They're so full for you!"
He massaged the soft, heavy flesh, pinching and rolling her nipples, making more milk flow. He brought one to his mouth and sucked, drawing the sweet, creamy fluid into his mouth. It mixed with the lingering, bitter taste on his tongue—her piss, her essence. The combination was bizarre, intoxicating, perfect.
She rode him faster, her pace increasing, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "Look at me," she panted. "Look at me while I fuck you. Look at your wife."
He did. Her face was a mask of ecstasy, her lips parted, her eyes glazed and unfocused. Sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
"I'm gonna… I'm gonna make you squirt again," he grunted, his own climax building, a heavy, deep pressure in his balls. "I'm gonna fill you up and make you gush all over me."
"Do it!" she screamed, slamming down onto him harder, her ass making a loud smack against his thighs with every descent. "Breed me! Make a baby in me! I want your cum fertilizing my eggs right now! Fuck! I can feel you so deep!"
Her words pushed him over the edge. The pressure broke. His vision whited out. His hips bucked up off the bed, driving himself as deep into her as physically possible.
The ejaculation was a cataclysm.
It felt like his very soul was being ripped from his body and pumped into hers. The first pulse was a thick, hot SPLURT that slammed directly into her cervix. He could feel it, the violent impact of his seed against the entrance to her womb. The second was a flood, a GUSH of cum that filled her channel, so much that it immediately began to backwash around the sides of his cock, a warm, white trickle. Gloop. Drip.
"I'M CUMMING!" he roared, his body arching, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.
Evelyn's orgasm met his, triggered by the sudden, hot flood inside her. She screamed, a raw, piercing sound of pure ecstasy. Her body went rigid, then convulsed violently. Her pussy clenched around his cock in a series of brutal, rhythmic spasms, milking him for every last drop.
And then she squirted.
It wasn't a gentle gush. It was a torrent. A powerful, clear jet of fluid erupted from her, SSSSHHHHHTTT!, soaking his stomach, his chest, his already milk-wet skin. It was hot and sweet-smelling, mixing with his cum and her milk, creating a slick, fragrant soup on their bodies. Sploosh. Splat.
The force of it pushed his softening cock partway out of her, and a massive, thick river of white cum followed, pouring out of her stretched hole and joining the mess on his stomach. GLOOP. SPLURT.
She collapsed forward onto his chest, her body shuddering through the last waves of her climax. They lay there, a tangled, sweaty, soaked heap, their breaths ragged, their hearts pounding against each other.
After a long moment, she lifted her head. Her face was inches from his. She looked into his eyes, her own filled with a love so fierce it was terrifying.
Then she kissed him.
It was a deep, filthy, open-mouthed kiss. He could taste everything—the sweetness of her milk, the musky tang of her squirt, the bitter, salty echo of her piss on his own tongue, and now, the new, raw flavor of his own cum as it leaked from her mouth onto his. It was the taste of their complete, utter union. It was perfection.
She pulled back, panting. "My husband," she breathed, the words a vow.
"My wife," he answered, his voice choked with emotion.
She smiled, a soft, sated, utterly dominant smile. She shifted, and more of his cum spilled from her, a warm, thick trickle that ran down his thigh. "You're going to lick me clean again," she whispered, her eyes holding his. "Every drop. You're going to drink our mess from my pussy. And then…" she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, "…then you're going to tell me what other filthy things you want to taste. What other holes you want to clean. What other… functions… you want to serve."
------X------
The morning after the Great Submission, as Dan had begun to think of it, dawned not with frantic hands and hungry mouths, but with a soft, golden silence.
He woke to the smell of coffee and bacon, not pussy and sweat. For a moment, he was disoriented. The space beside him in his bed was cool, empty. Panic, faint and fleeting, brushed his mind before he heard the distant, cheerful clatter of pots from the kitchen.
He stretched, his muscles sore in the best possible way. The house felt different. Lighter. The air wasn't thick with the musk of their sex for once; it was clean, carrying the scent of lemon cleaner and something frying.
He pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants and padded barefoot down the hall. The sight in the kitchen stopped him in the doorway.
Evelyn stood at the stove, her back to him. She was dressed—a simple, sleeveless linen sundress in pale blue that hugged the impossible swell of her hips and ass before falling loosely to mid-thigh. Her hair, a cascade of honey-blonde, was tied up in a messy bun, a few tendrils escaping to curl against her slender neck. She was humming, flipping pancakes with a practiced flick of her wrist.
It was so… normal. So domestic. It was jarring.
She must have sensed him. She glanced over her shoulder, and the smile that broke across her face was not the wicked, possessive grin of his dominant Mommy. It was warm, open, happy.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, her voice bright. "Coffee's on. You want orange juice? I squeezed it fresh."
Dan blinked, leaning against the doorframe. "You… squeezed juice?"
She laughed, a genuine, tinkling sound. "Don't look so shocked. I have skills other than squirting, you know." She winked, and just like that, the other Evelyn peeked through—the one who knew exactly what they'd done last night, who had commanded him to drink from her, body and soul. But it was just a peek. She turned back to the stove. "I felt like making a real breakfast. Sit."
He did, sliding onto a stool at the massive marble kitchen island. The sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the sprawling, minimalist penthouse. This was her domain, the proof of her other life. The CEO. The titan. The woman who commanded boardrooms with a look. And here she was, making him pancakes.
She brought a plate over, stacked high with golden-brown pancakes, crispy bacon, and a perfect fried egg. She set a tall glass of fresh orange juice next to it. Then she leaned over, her breasts straining against the thin linen, and kissed his forehead. "Eat. You need your strength."
He ate. The food was incredible. But his eyes were on her. She moved around the kitchen with an easy grace, cleaning as she went, refilling his coffee, her hips swaying in that mesmerizing, hypnotic rhythm. The dress clung to every curve, outlining the heavy weight of her ass with each step. It was a different kind of torture. A slow, sweet, agonizing one.
"You're staring," she said without turning, wiping the counter.
"Can't help it," he mumbled around a mouthful of pancake. "You're… dressed."
She turned, leaning back against the sink, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. "I know. It's weird, right? But even gods need a day off." She took a sip of her own coffee, her eyes studying him over the rim. "We can't live in that bedroom forever, Danny. As much as I'd love to."
He swallowed. "Why not?"
Her smile was softer now, tinged with something like melancholy. "Because the world is out there. And I have to go deal with some of it today."
The fork in his hand stilled. "Go out? Where?"
"The office," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just for a few hours. Paperwork to sign. A final meeting with my successor. I'm retiring, remember? I told you I was going to."
He had forgotten. In the haze of addiction and worship, the outside world had ceased to exist. "Oh."
"Don't sound so sad." She came around the island and slid onto the stool next to him, close enough that her bare thigh pressed against his. The simple contact sent a jolt through him. "It's the last time. After today, I'm all yours. Twenty-four-seven. We can be as filthy and as loud as we want, and no one will call because no one will need me."
He looked at her face. She meant it. The fierce, proud woman who had built an empire from nothing was giving it all up. For him. For this. The weight of it was immense.
"You don't have to do that for me," he said quietly.
She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Her touch was electric, as always. "I'm not doing it for you, my perfect pervert. I'm doing it for us. I have more money than we could spend in ten lifetimes. I've conquered everything I set out to conquer out there." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles, her eyes locked on his. "The only conquest I want now is you. Every day. In every way. That's my new empire."
His throat felt tight. He leaned in and kissed her, a soft, chaste press of lips. She tasted of coffee and maple syrup. It was unbearably sweet.
"Now," she said, pulling back with a mischievous glint. "You have a job today too."
"I do?"
"Mm-hmm. I need you to be a good boy and wait for me. But waiting is boring. So I'm leaving you with a… reminder." She stood up and smoothed her dress. Then, with a deliberate slowness, she hooked her thumbs under the hem. She didn't take it off. She just pulled it up, inch by inch, revealing her toned thighs, the shadowed junction where they met.
Dan's breath caught. There, in the stark morning light of the kitchen, he saw it.
She wasn't wearing any panties.
And she was soaked.
A slick, glistening sheen coated her inner thighs and the full, puffy lips of her pussy. A single, thick strand of her arousal—creamy and translucent—stretched from her lower lip down to her knee, gleaming like a pearl necklace in the sun. The scent hit him then, cutting through the smells of breakfast: that familiar, musky, addictive perfume of her need.
"I've been dripping since I woke up," she confessed, her voice a low, husky whisper. "Thinking about you. Thinking about last night. About what you did for me. About what you are for me." She let the dress fall back down, but the image was seared into his mind. "I want you to think about that while I'm gone. I want you to smell me on your fingers when you touch yourself. I want you to be aching for me by the time I get back."
She turned and walked toward the hallway, her ass swaying hypnotically under the thin fabric. At the archway, she paused and looked back. "Don't come," she commanded, her tone shifting to that firm, Mommy voice that made his spine tingle. "Not unless I tell you to. Your orgasms belong to me. Understood?"
He nodded, his voice gone, his cock already a hard, throbbing lump against his sweatpants.
"Good boy," she purred. And then she was gone.
The day stretched before him, an eternity. He tried to watch a movie. He tried to read. It was useless. Her scent seemed to cling to the air, to the furniture, to him. He could still see that glistening strand, that blatant, wet evidence of her arousal left for him like a promise.
He found himself in her walk-in closet, a room the size of his old apartment. Racks of designer clothes, shelves of handbags. And in a discreet, padded drawer, her lingerie. He opened it. Silk, lace, satin. Thongs, g-strings, corsets. He picked up a tiny black thong, holding it to his face. It smelled of her laundry detergent, but also, faintly, of her. His cock twitched.
He wandered into her bathroom. Her perfume bottles, her lotions. And then he saw it, tossed casually into the hamper: the pale blue sundress. He picked it up. The fabric was soft. He brought it to his face and inhaled, deeply.
Her. Sweat, her skin, her musk. And there, on the inner lining near the hem… a distinct, damp patch. He pressed his face into it, breathing her in, his mind swimming. He was hard, painfully so. He wanted to rub himself against it, to spill himself right there onto the fabric that had touched her skin. But her command echoed. Don't come.
He groaned, dropping the dress back into the hamper. This was a new kind of torment. A sweet, slow-burning agony.
He spent the afternoon in a haze of lust. He sat on the couch, his hand down his sweatpants, not stroking, just holding himself, feeling the desperate, heavy throb. He replayed every moment from the last three days. Her taste. Her smell. The feel of her asshole yielding to his tongue. The hot, bitter flood in his mouth. The way her cunt milked him dry.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the penthouse in shades of orange and pink, when he heard the key in the lock.
His heart leapt into his throat. He sat up straight, pulling his hand from his pants.
Evelyn walked in. She still wore the sundress, but it looked different now. Wrinkled. Her hair was slightly mussed. Her cheeks were flushed. She dropped her purse on the entryway table and kicked off her heels. Then she saw him, sitting rigidly on the couch.
For a long moment, she just looked at him. Her gaze traveled over him, noting the obvious tent in his sweatpants, the desperate hunger in his eyes.
"Have you been a good boy?" she asked, her voice quiet.
He nodded. "I didn't come."
"I know you didn't," she said, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She walked toward him, her movements slow, deliberate. "I can see it in your eyes. You're about to crawl out of your skin." She stopped in front of him. "Stand up."
He obeyed, rising to his feet. He was taller than her, but she seemed to loom over him with her presence.
"Take off your pants," she commanded softly.
His fingers fumbled with the drawstring. He shoved the sweatpants and his boxers down in one motion, his cock springing free, thick and angry-red, a bead of pre-cum already glistening at the tip.
She didn't touch it. She just looked at it, her head tilted. "So hard for me," she murmured. "Just from waiting. From thinking." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Did you think about what I showed you this morning?"
"Yes," he rasped.
"What did you think about?"
"That you were wet. That you were dripping for me. All day."
"Mmm." The sound was pure satisfaction. "And what did you want to do about it?"
He swallowed. "I wanted to taste it. I wanted to get on my knees right there in the kitchen and lick you clean."
Her breath hitched. Her eyes darkened. "Good answer." She reached for the hem of her dress again. This time, she pulled it up slowly, all the way, over her head, and let it drop to the floor.
She was naked beneath. And she was right. She was still wet. A fresh, glistening slickness coated her inner thighs and her pussy lips, which were swollen and dark pink. The sight was so obscenely beautiful it made his knees weak.
"On your knees, then," she said, her voice dropping to that low, dominant purr. "Right here. And worship what's yours."
He dropped to the floor on the plush rug, the movement hurried, clumsy. He didn't care. He shuffled forward on his knees until his face was inches from her dripping cunt. The scent was overwhelming, a dense, musky cloud of pure Evelyn. He could see every detail—the neat, blonde curls, the plump, glistening outer lips, the darker, parted inner lips, and the glistening pink slit between them, from which a fresh drop of her arousal was slowly, lazily forming.
"Look at me," she whispered, her hands coming to rest on his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
He dragged his gaze up her body, over the soft curve of her stomach, the heavy, milk-swollen weight of her tits with their dark, hard nipples, to her face. Her expression was one of absolute ownership, of pure, unadulterated lust.
"This," she said, pressing his face forward, "is your altar. Now pray."
He didn't need further urging. He lunged forward, his mouth finding her heat.
The first taste was a shock of sweetness and salt, a flavor so uniquely, profoundly her it made his head spin. He moaned, the sound vibrating against her flesh, and she gasped above him. He licked a long, slow stripe from her perineum all the way up to her clit. Schlick.
"Ohhh, fuck, yes…" she hissed, her fingers tightening in his hair.
He dove in, his tongue spearing into her hole. Glrk. It was hot and tight and impossibly wet. He fucked her with his tongue, shallow, rapid thrusts, lapping up the flood of her juices. Slurp. Glorp. He could hear the wet, messy sounds, could feel her thighs trembling on either side of his head.
He pulled back to focus on her clit, that hard, swollen little nub. He sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it rapidly.
"AH! RIGHT THERE!" she screamed, her hips bucking forward, grinding her pussy against his mouth. "Just like that! Don't stop! Oh God, your mouth…"
He didn't stop. He worshiped. He licked and sucked and probed, drinking down every drop she gave him. Her juices flowed freely, sweet and tangy, coating his chin, dripping down his neck. Splat. Drip. He was drowning in her, and he never wanted to come up for air.
Her moans became screams, fragmented and raw. "I'm gonna… Danny… I'm gonna squirt… right in your mouth… you're gonna drink it all…"
The warning was all he needed. He sealed his lips around her entire pussy, sucking hard, his tongue a relentless piston against her clit.
Her body went rigid. A violent tremor ran through her. And then it came.
A hot, powerful gush of fluid flooded his mouth. It wasn't the thin, sweet grool he'd been drinking. This was thicker, hotter, more abundant. It was squirt. It hit the back of his throat in a salty-sweet torrent. Gush. Splurt. He swallowed desperately, gulping it down, but it kept coming, flowing out of her in continuous, pulsing waves. Gloop. Swallow. Gulp. It overflowed his mouth, running down his chin, soaking the front of his shirt.
Her cries were animalistic, wordless shrieks of pleasure. Her hands clenched in his hair, holding his face hard against her as she rode out the orgasm, grinding her dripping cunt against his lips and nose and chin.
Finally, the flow subsided. Her grip on his hair loosened. Her body sagged, boneless, but she stayed standing, supported by his face between her thighs. She was panting, her chest heaving, her magnificent tits bouncing with each ragged breath.
Slowly, Dan pulled back. His face was drenched. His shirt was soaked. He looked up at her, his lips glistening, his eyes wide.
She looked down at him, her expression dazed, sated, and fiercely proud. "Good boy," she breathed. "You drank every drop, didn't you?"
He nodded, licking his lips. "It was… amazing."
She smiled, a slow, wicked curve of her lips. "I know." She stepped back, her legs shaky. "Now. Stand up. It's my turn."
He got to his feet, his own legs unsteady. His cock jutted out, purple and dripping, untouched and desperate.
Evelyn reached for him, but not for his cock. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him around, pushing him gently until his back was to the large, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the glittering city skyline. The lights were just beginning to wink on in the twilight.
"Put your hands on the glass," she commanded, her voice husky in his ear.
He obeyed, placing his palms flat against the cool, smooth surface. The entire city sprawled below them, unaware.
He felt her press against his back, her soft, heavy tits flattening against his shoulder blades. Her hands slid around his waist, then down, until her fingers wrapped around his throbbing shaft.
He gasped at the contact. Her grip was firm, knowing. She began to stroke him, slow and tight, her fist gliding easily in the mess of his pre-cum and her own juices that still coated him.
"Look out there," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "All those people. Going about their little lives. None of them know. None of them have any idea what's happening up here. What you are to me. What I'm about to do to you."
Her other hand came up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then slipping into his mouth. "Suck," she ordered.
He sucked her fingers, tasting her salt and his own spit.
"You're my secret," she murmured, her hand moving faster on his cock. "My perfect, filthy, addicted secret. And I'm going to make you scream my name so loud the whole city should hear, but they won't. Because we're up here in our perfect, perverted heaven, and no one can touch us."
Her words were a lightning strike to his spine. His hips began to jerk, thrusting into her tight fist. "Mommy…" he groaned, his forehead pressing against the cool glass.
"That's right," she hissed. "Say it. Who do you belong to?"
"You! Fuck, I belong to you!"
"And who am I?" Her hand twisted on the upstroke, her thumb swiping over his leaking slit.
"My wife! My… my fucking goddess!"
"Yes," she purred. Her hand was a blur now, a slick, perfect friction. "Now come for me, Danny. Come for your wife. Paint this window for me. Show me how much you need this."
It was too much. The visual of the city below, the feel of her hand, the sound of her voice, the taste of her on his lips. The dam broke.
His orgasm erupted from him with a force that tore a ragged scream from his throat. "EVELYN!"
It wasn't a few spurts. It was a cataclysm. A massive, thick, rope of pure white cum shot from his cock with enough force to splat against the glass, a loud, wet impact. SPLOOSH. The first was followed immediately by a second, a third, a seemingly endless torrent. SPURT. GUSH. SPLAT. Thick, gluey strands of semen splashed against the window, some running down in slow, viscous rivulets, others hitting with such force they stuck in fat, pearly globs. The sheer volume was obscene. It just kept coming, pulsing out of him in hot, relentless waves, coating a huge section of the window in a abstract, glistening painting of his release.
Evelyn's hand never stopped, milking him through every last shuddering pulse, her own breath coming in sharp gasps against his neck. "Look at it," she moaned, her voice thick with awe. "Look at all that cum. My good boy. Filling up my world with your seed."
Finally, it was over. His knees buckled, but she held him up, her arms strong around him. He was panting, spent, his cock still twitching in her now-gentle grip.
She turned him around to face her. Her eyes were blazing, her face flushed with a triumphant, possessive joy. She leaned in and kissed him, deep and filthy, her tongue licking the taste of her own juices from his lips.
When she broke the kiss, she was smiling. "See?" she whispered, gesturing to the spectacular mess on the window behind him. "Even when we're not fucking, we're fucking. This is our life now."
She took his hand and led him away from the window, toward the hallway. "Now come on. We have to get cleaned up. And then…" she glanced back at him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light, "…I think it's time we talked about what happens when I'm officially retired. About all the time we'll have. And all the new, filthy things I want to do to my husband."