Your mother continues her relentless oral assault on your cock. Your mind is full of ecstasy, but behind that, in the background, hidden in the shadows, a war is raging between a plethera of conflicting feelings and reasons and moral objections. Your throbbing cock has no such war raging within it, as it fully and happily submits to your mother's attentions. Your mother stares lovingly up at your face, which, behind the lust and pleasure it conveys, is blank, reflecting the stalemate the war has so far produced within your troubled mind. But for the moment, the war is overshadowed, and your shaft's insistent throbbing grows quicker and more intense. Your mother senses your nearing orgasm and firmly grips the shaft near the base of your slobbery cock. She pulls her head off your rod, her lips still closed around its width make an audible pop as they release the head of your climaxing cock. With firm strokes, your mother milks the sperm from your testicles, through your urethra, spraying with a projection more powerful than in your usual pump sessions, onto her loving face and prominent breasts. The face that you saw the day of your birth was covered with your cum, and breasts that you fed from as an infant were now painted with your sperm. And now you yearned to return to, and blast your sperm deep into, the vagina in which you were concieved and from which you were born.
But that thought is fleeting, as your cock begins to shrink back into its flacid state and more rational thinking floods back into your brain. Your mother gives your dick an affectionate pat and returns it to your pants, which she then does up. She whispers in your ear, instructing you to go home. "I just need to fuck a few more guys, and then I'll be home right after you. Your sister won't be home for hours and I intend to introduce you to your real mother properly, so I want you naked, horny, and in my bed the moment I get home. Now get out of here, and cause a scene, because we don't want these people getting wise to our new little relationship." With that, your mother grabs your shoulders, turns you around, and gives you a firm, assuring spank to the butt. A surprisingly motherly spank... something about it surprising you frightens you.
But you follow the first part of your mother's instructions, and make a scene. You accuse your mother's next customers of being sick perverts who should be ashamed of themselves. You say a few other things, but this is not important or memorable. You're too busy replaying the events that just occured, remembering your mother's instructions. And in the semidrunk drive home, you keep thinking about your mother's words "I just need to fuck a few more guys" over and over. |