A Mother Surrenders

She clawed at the wall as she pumped back.

I am a whore. I'm my son's whore!

"Momma's gonna cum, baby! You're going to make your momma cum!"

"Don't you dare cum until I tell you to cum! I own your pussy now! It does what I want when I want!"

"Oh my God, Andre! I don't know if I can hold it! It feels so good! Please let me cum"

"Not until I cum! Don't you want to feel me swell in you, to fill your pussy with my seed?"

"Yes, darling, yes! Please fill me to overflowing! I want your sperm to fill my hole and overflow down my legs!"

Andre thrust harder and deeper into his mother's pussy. Her pussy spasmed, clutching at his dick, farting as he drove the air out of her hole.

"I'm cumming, momma, I'm cumming!"

"Let me cum with you. Baby! Let momma cum with you!"

"You can cum. Momma! Cum with your son!"

Mother and son howled like wild animals as they came together, thrusting against each other. They came down slowly. Andre's strokes went from hard and frantic to slow and even. Alyssa ground her ass against her son's spurting cock, getting every drop of his precious seed in her sheath.

Andre collapsed on her back, wrapping his arms around her and clutching her big jugs. Alyssa leaned her forehead against the wall, balancing herself.

The exertions helped clear Alyssa's head. The enormity of what she had done and with who washed over her.

Dear God! What Have I done?

"Let me up, Andre!" She pushed back with her butt. "I need to clean up!"

"No! You won't clean up! You'll sleep in this costume in your marriage bed, freshly fucked with my cum running out of you."

Alyssa was shocked at the tone of authority in her son's voice. It resonated deep inside her, touching her repressed submissiveness.

I'm his, she thought. I AM his whore

Alyssa nodded, accepting the dominance of her 18-year-old son.

"Can I sleep in your bed with you?"

"No! You'll sleep in your bed with your husband. Waking up with my cum in your pussy in the morning will tell you who you belong to."

Andre pulled out of his mother's pussy. He watched their juices leak from her hole and run down her fat thighs.

Alyssa stumbled into her bedroom and fell into bed, still wearing her New Year's costume with her son's cum flowing from her pussy. She snuggled up to her snoring husband and passed out.

Chapter 03

Alyssa Favreau was dreaming she was back in the bathroom at the Wilsons, and Greg Wilson was licking her pussy. He was doing better this time, much better. In the bathroom, they were too high to know what they were doing.

His head was between her thighs, his tongue doing amazing things to her pussy. Her hips pumped, pressing against his magic tongue.

"Fuck! That feels good," she mumbled, more asleep than awake.

"I'm glad you like it, Momma!"

Andre threw her legs over his shoulders, cupped her ass, and pulled her twat tighter to his mouth. He did figure eights, starting at his mother's anus, through her engorged labia to her clit and back again. Sharonda loved it; he knew his mother would also.

"Whuh?"

Alyssa struggled to wake up. Something was wrong. Her husband never went down on her; she was in her bed, not in Greg Wilson's bathroom.

"FUCK!"

Her ass raised from the bed when Andre's finger penetrated her anus.

Andre was a man possessed as he realized the dream of a lifetime. No matter what the consequences, he wasn't going to stop. He leered at his father passed out next to his mother, with one arm over his eyes.

Wake up, old man, see what I'm doing to your wife, my mother, and now my woman!

Andre finger fucked his mother's anus while sucking her clit. He struggled to hold on to her as she wildly gyrated under his ministrations.

"Sweet Jesus! What are you doing to me?"

"Making you my bitch, Momma! From now on, this pussy is mine!"

Alyssa's gyrations worked her son's finger deeper in her ass. Her mouth was open, and she gurgled deep in her throat. Still, under the influence of her overindulgence, she struggled to form a coherent thought.

"Don't stop! Please don't stop!"

In her daze, her lover moved, turning so his cock was at her mouth. Without hesitation, she took it in her mouth. His cock was larger, larger than any she had. And the aroma! His smell was full, vibrant, and manly.

Beside her, her husband farted and snored, turning his back on his son who was replacing him in Alyssa's pussy and mind. When he woke up, he would still be her husband, but Andre was her master.

Andre swelled in Alyssa's mouth, and she knew he would cum. In her stupor, she was disappointed, wanting him to cum in her honey hole like...! She'd fucked earlier in the evening! She leaned against the wall and...!

"Oh, my God! Andre! Stop!"

She pulled off his cock, raised her head, and looked down at her son's head between her thighs. Simultaneously, Andre came, squirting over her face and into her open mouth, gagging her. She gurgled, swallowing the torrent painting her face and nearly drowning in her effort.

Alyssa pulled away and rolled to her back while her son squirted on her like the last dribbles of a garden hose. She tried to speak, couldn't, and passed out again.

Chapter 04

Tom Favreau awoke with a brass band playing in his head. He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm to block out the sunlight and ease the pounding in his head. Bile rose in his mouth, and his stomach roiled. He had to piss like a racehorse yet was afraid to move, knowing the pain he would experience.

He sat up in bed and held his head in his hands. What the hell had he drunk last night? Then he recalled it wasn't just the margaritas but also the magic mushrooms. Everyone at the party was overwhelmed by the high. Unwisely, he bolted and turned to look at his snoring wife.

She still had her costume on, with the halter top pulled down, exposing her breasts and the skirt partially unzipped and around her waist. Her braids were matted to her head, and the sheets felt damp.

What the fuck did we do last night?

He staggered into the en suite bathroom, trying to replay the night's events. Under the shrooms' influence, several couples were making out, not necessarily with their spouses. He had a vague memory of someone sucking him off. The face he saw was Allen Cole, but that couldn't be. Neither he nor Allen was gay. Hell, they golfed most weekends.

He leaned against the wall behind the toilet with one arm, held his cock in the other, and took a long, satisfying piss. He looked into the bedroom at his sleeping wife. He seemed to recall her bare-breasted in the bathroom with Greg Wilson. How the hell could that be? The Wilsons, Greg and Allison, were 25-year friends and one of the several White couples they knew and socialized with.

They exchanged babysitting, went camping, and even shared a room on a budget vacation, as young parents will. Greg and Alyssa couldn't have been intimate. Those damn mushrooms had him hallucinating.

Tom grabbed an aspirin bottle from the medicine cabinet, dumped a handful, and swallowed them. He tottered back into the bedroom. Nauseated, he sat on the side of the bed.

"Alyssa! Alyssa! Wake up!"

Alyssa struggled to wake up. She was dizzy and sick to her stomach. Her eyes felt like they were glued shut.

"Damn it, Tom! What the fuck do you want?"

"I want to know what the fuck you and Greg were doing in the bathroom?"

He didn't mention cumming in Allen Cole's mouth.

"Tom, I'm not sure about many things that happened last night. It's all kind of fuzzy!"

"Fuzzy, my black ass! Did you fuck him?"

"Gawddammit, no," she screamed, jumping to her feet

She instantly regretted it. One hand went to her forehead; the other covered her belly. She sprinted to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, knelt, and threw her guts up.

Later, she showered, brushed her teeth, donned a robe, and headed to the kitchen, following the aroma of coffee. She tried to recall the events of the night. She remembered being in the bathroom with Gregg and Tom bursting in. The men argued, and she had to separate them.

She and Tom argued on the walk home but must have made up. She recalled them fucking in the hall.

Alyssa stopped in her tracks, stunned. It wasn't Tom she fucked; it was their son Andre! He fucked her, later he ate her out, and they 69ed!

Sweet fucking Jesus, she thought. What the hell have I done?

She slowly walked down the stairs, holding the railing for balance. Despite her distress, the scent of the coffee drew her.

"Good morning, Momma!"

Andre poured her a cup of coffee and sat it at her spot at the kitchen table. He watched her closely, trying to suss out her mood.

"' Morning, Andre, Tom."

She sat down and took a long sip of the steaming hot coffee.

Tom sat hunched over his coffee cup, merely nodding his head. He had a noon tee time with his usual Saturday foursome, Greg Wilson, Allen Cole, and Jim Cotton. Given all that had happened at the party, he wasn't sure if he could or should make it.

"Well, how are the party animals?"

Tom growled something unintelligible, then stood and lumbered up the stairs.

Alyssa watched her husband until he disappeared into the hall. She turned to her son, unsure of how to start the conversation.

"We need to talk."

Her opening was weak, unconvincing.

"About what, Momma," Andre said with feigned innocence.

He realized a fantasy and was prepared to pay the price.

"What...uh...what happened last night?"

Alyssa still wasn't sure. It could have been a shroom hallucination. Although the soreness in her pussy belied that. She had fucked. The only question was who.

"You and dad went to a party at the Wilson's, came home high out of your minds, and we fucked in the hallway then 69ed in your bed. And I must say, you're a primo cocksucker and a fantastic lay."

Alyssa stared at him with her mouth open. She wasn't sure what she expected him to say. What he did say confirmed her suspicions; she had sex with her son. Now she had to clean up the mess.

"Look, your father and I overindulged last night. And so did many other people, she thought, recalling Allison Wilson licking Susan Hayne's pussy on the couch while they all watched. "I recall some of what we did, and I want to apologize for taking advantage of you."

"Cut the crap, Momma! We both know there's no going back. We can't unring this bell."

"I'm your mother! How dare you speak to me like that!"

"Last night, you said you were my whore! I like that better."

Andre reached over and pulled her robe open while Alyssa watched in shock. She knew she should stop him, but he seemed so sure of himself. His confidence made her feel vulnerable.

A horn sounded in the driveway. They looked that way and then upstairs as they heard Tom descending the stairs.

"I'll see you guys later."

He reached into the storage closet, grabbed his golf clubs, and sprinted out of the kitchen. He never noticed Alyssa sitting at the kitchen table with her robe open.

Andre pushed his mother's robe off her shoulders. It fell to her waist, exposing her breasts and belly apron.

"Andre, look, we...!"

"Stand up, take off the robe and lean on the kitchen counter."

"Baby, we can't do this! Your mother will become your whore!"

"You are my whore, and I want some pussy! Do as I say!"

Alyssa was confused, unsure of herself and what her son was demanding. Vignettes of last night, like scenes from a movie, played in her mind. She recalled the best fucking she had in her life. She remembered Andre asserting his dominance and her acquiescing.

She stood, letting her robe drop to the floor. "Could you do just one thing for me?"

Andre stripped off his clothes. He moved his finger in a circular motion, indicating his mother should turn and face the counter.

"What's that?" He smacked her ass hard, eliciting a scream and a groan.

"Fuck my ass first! My pussy is still sore from last night."

"If I do, you'll have to lick my dick clean afterward."

"That's only fair! After all, I'm your whore, and that's my job! Now fuck your whore's ass.

Andre fucked her ass, dumping a load deep in her bowels. Afterward, like a good whore, his mother licked his cock clean.

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