A Whore for His Mother

Standing up, she went to the window again. He was still on his knees, on the floor, eyes looking down. She was still horny, but it had to be stopped. She couldn't do this, act like this, in front of him anymore.

"Just get it done," she said to her reflection, barely looking at him.

"Mom?"

"Just do it, okay, so we can..."

Shutting up, she turned her face to his little image, as he started to stroke his cock. He had to use long strokes to get to the end of it. It seemed sensitive, and she was right. Soon, he started to tremble, moan, and before she knew it, he bent forward as he spurted on the floor between his legs. A little bit of spit joined the semen.

Ready to get an end to this she waited, and waited. And waited. But nothing changed. His cock was still rock-hard, still clenched in his fist.

"It's the pill, mom," he whispered.

"Sch, sch, it's okay," she said. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry, baby."

She couldn't look away from him though, and despite her words she wasn't sorry. Her pussy started to vibrate again, and unseen by him she pressed her hand against it from the outside.

"What do you..." She swallowed. "What do you usually do, to take care of it?"

He looked up at her, twisting with his entire body, except for the hand still around his glistening cock. But he couldn't find her eyes in the dark window, so he simply stared, and hesitated, before lifting his sticky hand to his lips, sucking his fingers clean. He panted as he did it. Then he got down on all fours.

"So..." she whispered. "You're nothing but a cock, a glistening, shivering, pussy craving cock?"

As he licked the last of his drip off the carpet, he got up on his knees again. She could still see the smears all around his lips and chin.

Shivering, she lifted her kimono at the back, showing her ass to him. And she didn't have to wait long before he crawled on his hands and knees towards her. She felt his head between her cheeks, his mouth finding its way to her puckering opening. She felt his kiss as she put her arms on the cold window pane, felt his tongue as it dug its way in. She let the kimono fall down over his head.

This city, she thought as she felt her own son licking at her ass, only stopping for air. This city is mine. I can do whatever I want.

Quickly moving away from him, just a few steps, she turned her back to the window, felt his spit between her cheeks. Pressing herself against it, left hand fingernails scratching at the hard surface, her other hand lifted one of the flaps covering her naked crotch.

This was the face of a seasoned whore, she thought with appreciation as she saw him crawl to her again. His eyes were distant. This was probably not even the worst thing he had had to do in this room before. Not yet at least. He had probably needed to degrade himself before lots of different women, some disgusting, old and fat, some wicked to his naked body. There had been a riding crop in the closet. His face looked dead as he opened his mouth to her leaking pussy, licked at it with experience. She didn't have to instruct him as she let the kimono fall over his head again to steady her trembling body against the view. The thrilling thought of some pervert looking in on her made it even better.

Still, he was a good whore. She almost could believe that he enjoyed it. There was passion in his flapping tongue movements, love in the deep kisses of his mouth. His face made love to her pussy in the darkness under the kimono. She'd never known anything like this. As with the wine she couldn't believe there was anything wrong about this feeling, not when it felt this good. He must have waited for her reactions, because when something felt extra good his lips focused on that part again, until something else was needed. Someone had trained him well.

"Don't stop..." she said into the empty suite, as she let her head fall back against the comfortingly cold window pane.

He didn't, but instead increased his attention to her. She lifted her mouth to the ceiling, and as she filled the room with screams, she imagined joining with a choir of her sisters singing in this tower of joy tonight.

Lapping at her one last time, just to clean her up, he left the darkness of the kimono to sit back on his knees again. His face was completely neutral as he looked up at her.

"What's your next desire, Madam?"

Not mom this time, but Madam, and she fucking loved it. Lifting him on his feet she pressed him to the foggy spot on the window, pushed his face against it. As he steadied himself with his arms, her hand found his still hard cock. She tried to get as much of him between her fingers as possible, but it was a frustration that she gladly let fill her body as she started to stroke him with eager motions. She wanted to make him cum on her own, and despite his groans he fulfilled her wishes. He burst on the window in front of him. But he was still as hard underneath her hand, harder even, and enjoying every second of it she slowed down, feeling his painful breaths as she pushed her face against his strawberry blonde hair.

As she let him go, pushed herself off him, he went down on his knees. He showed his beautiful backside to her as he bent his head forward and started to lick his dripping cum from the window. Curious, she swiped a couple of drops with her fingers, and tasting it, she moaned with pleasure.

"So that's why it's called fine dining," she said.

They had made him eat something, or given him other drugs. Something had made it taste better than any of the drippings her disgusting husband had filled her up with during their early years of marriage. No wonder he was so eager for it. Still, she had to ask.

"You like licking up your disgusting semen?"

"Yes..." he whispered. His ragged breath left a fog on the window. He licked it up with the last of his cum. Sitting down on his knees in front of her again he waited for her next instruction.

"I bet some ladies likes to have two of you. You are probably as good a cocksucker as you are a pussy eater, son."

She said it to see if she could get a reaction from him, and a panicky glimpse from his eyes, immediately snuffed out, told her that she had succeeded. She smiled down at him.

"Some probably even want you to call them mother, isn't that right?"

He couldn't answer. Instead, he hung his head forward.

"Yes. Thought as much. So why don't you try it out. Say, thank you, mother."

"Thank you, mother."

"Very good! For what?"

"Thank you, mother, for letting me lick your ass and pussy, making you come. Thank you for stroking me to an orgasm and letting me lick it up."

She sneered. "Nothing but a cock and a mouth."

"Yes, mother."

Looking away from his face, but not his body, she whispered, "I think I will suck it now."

"Yes..." He couldn't finish. Instead, he gulped, and started to twitch. His cock swayed in front of him, still glistening from his involuntary orgasms. He didn't intend it that way, she didn't think, but its motions drew her to its throbbing length.

"Clear that table," she said, pointing to the drink laden part of the buffe. Studying the muscles of his back and buttocks, his well-formed legs, she smiled as he put the bottles and glasses on another table. "And while you're at it, pour me another drink, will you?"

Turning around, a nervous tremor down his limbs, he looked around for the bottle, and finding it, he poured a generous amount of it in a new glass. Walking slowly, he held it out to her.

"Thank you," she said, and tasting the wonderful wine again she stared at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He got down on his knees in front of her again, moved forward.

"Not that, idiot!" she snapped. "On the table. I want to taste you, I said."

The table was covered with a white cloth, and he wrinkled it as he leaned against it, only to meet her staring eyes again. He hastened to sit up on it, his feet barely touching the floor. Meanwhile, she sipped her drink. Seeing him throb before her she finished her glass, letting the last swallow of it flow down her hungry throat. Putting the glass aside, she walked closer to him, still feeling the pleasure of the soft fabric covering her body. She would buy one just like it, she decided.

Looking at the floor between his legs, she couldn't resist another power move. She cleared her throat.

"Forgive me, mother," he gasped, and rushed to get a pillow from the bed. Putting it in place he once again sat down next to the plates and bowls, making them tinkle against each other.

Kneeling, but not like a whore, nor like a desperate young wife trying to please her husband, she steadied herself with a grip on his round thigh, feeling the muscles underneath the smooth skin. Her other hand went to his thick cock, but like the wine it only got better this time around. Silky, but hard, soft, but unyielding as she gripped it, making him groan.

"Stop complaining," she said.

"Yes! Thank you, mother."

"You like having your mother on her knees in front of you, opening her mouth like this, ready to swallow your piece of meat?" She did as she said, breathing on him, seeing it twitch.

"Yes, mother," he answered.

"I used to do this for your father, but when he was finished, he always was too tired to do anything else." Taking him around the spongy head, she squeezed him again, but luckily for him he held his breath. "We won't have that problem, will we?"

"No, mother!"

"Good. Now then, where was I?"

Taking him inside of her mouth, she enjoyed the smooth mouthfeel of cock, the sensations of lubricated tissues rubbing against each other. He filled her up almost completely, but deep down inside she was used to it, and she was in control this time. Releasing him, she nibbled at the side, before licking across the whole length of it. Burying her face at the base of his balls, she reminded herself to thank whoever did the grooming around this place. It was so smooth, so cuddly. He smelled good too, not something her son would have thought about on his own.

Already, as his precum trickled down her throat, she wanted more of the same taste. It was intoxicating. A part of her wanted to have him next to several glasses of white wine, so she could taste him properly. She could strap him to the table, sit down in front of it. Taking him in her mouth, she looked up at him. He had turned his face away.

"Hey!" she snapped. "Look at me! And you should thank me too, for what I'm doing to you."

His eyes had a shocked quality to them, as if he was facing headlights. "Thank you... mother... It feels... so... nice."

"You are sensitive, after cumming so much?"

"Yes, mother..."

"Yes, especially when I do like this."

She took his swollen head in her hand, and holding it tight she used her other hand to jack him off. He was bucking on the table, making the glassware beat. She opened her eyes as he came between her fingers, smearing them with thick drops of cum. At the same time, she was dissatisfied. She'd wanted to taste him down her throat. Because of that she used her fingers to scoop his juices to her mouth, and she made him feel her disappointment in him. She even scratched his most sensitive spot with her fingernails. They were really sharp. He should know that.

When he was clean and panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, she locked him with her eyes again. "If you do that one more time, I will get the riding crop and use it on you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, mother."

"You're really sensitive now?"

"Yes, mother."

"That's a pity, because I have to do it again. You understand that, right? I wanted something, and you took it from me. I could have you fired for that."

Opening his eyes in horror, he tried to keep still and silent as she took his cock in her mouth again. Not wanting to sit on the floor forever she took him down her throat, not caring if she hurt him. She just wanted to have the real feeling of it, having him spurt down her throat. As he came with a shout of pain, she gulped, and when she pulled her face away, she flushed and saw a tendril of cum hanging between her lips and the almost red cockhead. He locked raw. He trembled when she kissed him on the tip.

"Good boy," she whispered to it.

Taking in deep breaths, he shook with his entire body. He could barely control his legs on either side of her. He had torn the table cloth away from the back-end. It was completely covered in his sweat. Even that smelled delicious, like a well-trained animal.

"Thank you, mother," he finally managed to say.

"You haven't thanked me enough yet," she said as she stood up, and taking a sip of water from a glass bottle she walked to the bed. It was as comfortable as everything else in here. She could feel her body sink down into the soft layers as she placed herself in the middle of it. Reaching out with her hands, she beckoned to him.

Standing up, he almost fell over. But he steadied himself, and understanding as she spread her legs he crawled over her, and putting his cock to her screaming pussy he readied himself. He--

"Aren't you going to ask me for it?"

"Please, can I fuck you, mother?"

"Yes, my little whore. You can fuck me now."

Feeling herself getting filled up from the inside she let loose a fresh sound of pleasure. He jerked with the terrible sensation of it, he couldn't help himself, but she didn't care. She let him do the work as she put her arms above her head, twirling her fingers through her thick locks of hair. She felt beautiful.

"Don't forget to say thank you," she said between moans.

"Thank you, mother," he grunted as he pushed himself into her. "Thank you, mother."

It was wonderful, feeling that golden rod cock pounding her with the virility of a young man, hearing him thank her for it, and every time she felt him cum in her she screamed even louder, to remind him of why he was doing this. She could feel his desperate eyes all over her face and body, his hands as they grasped handfuls of flesh from her thighs. He would give her bruises, she knew. She didn't mind as she felt herself come again, an orgasm that made it flash in front of her eyes, pleasure forming into light.

After a while she was too tired to keep it up, and she could almost feel sorry for him as he continued to move his hips against her, continued to whisper, "Thank you, mommy, thank you, mommy..." He was barely even awake anymore.

Folding her legs away from him, she felt her years again, and a new sense of bitterness. He had left a pain deep inside of her, and even though it felt good, felt better than anything, she remembered times when it hadn't felt that good, that pain. His father hadn't thanked her as he pounded her tight pussy.

Raising herself from the sweat covered bed she walked over to the closet. She held her breath before it, and as she opened it, she immediately knew what she was looking for. She'd seen it earlier, a rack of strap-on dildos. Holding them, one by one, she finally decided which one was most familiar. Taking it back to the bed she compared it to his still solid cock. It was almost identical, but black instead of throbbing red.

All the time he had followed her with his tired eyes. He wasn't surprised anymore. His eyes where open holes she could pour herself down into.

"Prepare yourself," she said, standing above him.

Walking to the closet, he dug out some lube, a big bottle of it, and putting it on a dildo he started to fuck himself, groaning with new pleasure as he did so. His cock started to leak with precum. She walked over to him, made him stop, just to taste him once again.

When he was ready, she pointed at the table. "Move it to the window," she said.

"Yes, mother," he said, and his muscles started to shift as he dragged the table from one end of the room to the other. He positioned it as close to the window as it could go, and when he was done, he stopped, captivated by the view. Or maybe it was the sight of his mother coming up behind him, black strap-on dangling between her legs. One final sense of normality flared up deep inside his eyes, before it died, and he hugged the table.

Kicking his legs away, she positioned herself, and feeling his soft skin she took a firm grip and pushed herself against his lubricated opening. She enjoyed every feeling of it, every sound as he thought he had prepared himself enough but now felt his inside getting invaded by her cock. He whimpered beneath her, scratched at the table.

"This is what it feels like," she said. "You like that? You like getting fucked by a big cock?"

"Yes... ungh... mother..."

As she dragged herself out completely, he pulled in a lungful of air. Then she really started to fuck him, fuck him like he had done her earlier, like his father had done years ago. She took a hold of his hair and shoved his face against the window, feeling the soft form of him bending to her will.

"Do you see that building over there?" she asked as she pushed into him again. "Do you recognize it?"

Waiting for him to answer, or not, she grabbed him by the hips. She fucked him with long, hard thrusts deep inside of him. Then she grabbed him by the hair again, continuing to fuck him in a more delicate way. Every sound he made was controlled by her.

"That's my office you see over there," she said. "I want you to remember that, every time you go into this room. Every time you see that light over there, remember that I could be watching you, see your pretty little head in a firm grip... Like this."

Not stopping, she fucked him until he started to sob. He left tears on the window as she smashed him against it once more. Finally, as he couldn't lift his head anymore, she untied her kimono, let her breasts move freely. She rubbed at one of her nipples in synch with her fucking.

"And maybe, just maybe, you will see a dark square over there. Then it could be me next time."

She didn't reach an orgasm, not really, but she felt the trembling of one as she fell on top of him, crushing him against the table, her breasts grinding against his goosebumps. She looked at their faces in the window. She was the one smiling. He was the one with pain written all over, every normal feeling forced aside by the pounding of her cock. Pushing herself off him she left him to get cleaned up. Her time was almost up. One hour and forty-five minutes were a lot of time, but... She looked back at him.... not nearly enough.

He was still on the table when she walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed. She started to wonder if she had done something wrong as she went into the elevator. Forcing herself to acknowledge that they probably had a security camera she prepared herself for getting yelled at as the doors slowly opened to the lobby. But the receptionist simply looked at her with a smile on her lovely lips. And maybe with just a hint of blush.

"Everything to your satisfaction, Madam?" she asked.

"Yes," Anna-Lisa said. "Everything was."

"I'm glad to hear it." The secretary started to tap away at her computer. Reviews maybe? When she was done, she turned her smiling, and definitely blushing, face towards her again, saying, "Do you want to give a tip to the young man in question?"

Staring at her, Anna-Lisa suddenly remembered what day it was.

"Yes," she said. "I have something. A gift. Could I send it over?"

"Why, of course!" the receptionist said. "And how delightful. You really are pleased then?"

"Yes. Very."

Turning away from the reception desk Anna-Lisa walked to the front door. She turned her collar up against the wind.

Lifting her hand, she hailed a taxi. She had to get back to her office. But it hadn't been inconvenient, not at all. In fact, she felt rejuvenated. Maybe, just a thought, she would get in touch with them again, ask them about VIP-prices.

And maybe for her secretary too. That would be a nice Christmas present.