"Pornography," My Mother Said Pt. 02

Second part to the series, again unchecked and unedited so there will be typos, etc. Hope any errors in the text aren't too off-putting.

Voting and comments are disabled on this one. Anon is too tedious to be bothered with and this is supposed to be fun.

Thanks for reading.

GA - Plague Island, UK - 19 March 21

I spent most of the following day up in my room. It felt awkward whenever I saw my dad, guilt a knife in my chest. I couldn't look him in the face. It hurt me to know I'd cuckolded him. I feigned a stomach-ache to avoid him a meals, an excuse to stay hidden away until I reconciled the new, exciting relationship I had with my mother straight in my head.

Monday was better because I was busy at school. My mind kept shifting back to my mother and how it had been when she decloaked, the mother I'd known in shocking transformation to potty-mouthed lover. It helped being at school because it was some kind of normal, and while I couldn't shake my mother from my thoughts for long, at least school was a distraction.

But the day dragged on. I was impatient to see her again. I wanted to taste her kisses and plunge my hard-on into her welcoming body. My stomach flipped every time I pictured her breasts or remembered how she'd looked at me or when she'd used those odd third-person references to 'mummy'.

Finally, the day came to a close and I rushed home, eager to see her.

She shook her head when I asked: "Is anyone home?"

"No. Why? Got something in mind you want to do?"

She was turning and lifting her blue cotton dress as she said it, revealing she was bare underneath.

"Uh-huh, come on," my mother said as she smirked at me over one shoulder. "Fuck me," she finished.

I had her in the kitchen. She was at the counter, hands flat while she shoved her rump back. Her pussy took my length in one easy glide, my hands on her hips, fingers digging into the slight layer of spare flesh she carried there.

"Don't come inside me," my mother warned when I mauled at her breasts through her dress. "Here," she added while her fingers moved over the buttons at the bodice, "you want mummy's tits?"

The heat washed over me and I leaned in close over her back, hands full of my mother's breasts as I grazed my teeth over the nape of her neck after brushing her hair aside.

"Uh-huh, yes, kiss me there," my mother sighed when I gently kissed the same place.

I felt something scrape the keel of my cock as I worked my size in and out of her body. It was puzzling at first, but then I realised she was rubbing her clit and it was her fingernails I could feel.

"You're wanking," I gasped.

"I've been diddling all day," my mother replied on a low chuckle. "On and off. I keep thinking about you."

"Me too," I said, going upright, hands on her hips. I held her and worked it hard, our bodies slap-thwacking together so her bottom jiggled.

My mother gasped and moaned, hair loose while she stirred her vulva and I felt the sweet sensation simmer in my core. I was fucking her knock-kneed, yelps and mewls issuing forth from my mother when I went at her body with solid determination.

"Don't do it inside me," my mother said again, groaning it out.

It had been a couple of minutes of intense sexual action and I was close to the boil.

My mother added: "I can feel it getting harder. Your cock's swelling. It feels like you're going to come."

"Soon," I grunted, attention set on her shivering flesh.

On a groan of frustration, my mother moved forward so my dick slipped free. I voiced a blurted objection, desperate to get at her again.

"Calm down," she said, turning to face me.

I watched and cranked my dick while my mother slid the dress over her shoulders. It went to the floor, her hands at the clasp of her bra.

I growled in bestial intent when I saw her naked.

"You too. Take those clothes off. Hurry, I want you inside me again."

She boosted herself up so her bare arse was on the counter before she spread her legs and showed me her scarlet centre.

I gawked and then burst into a flurry of activity, stripping nude when my mother urged me to do it, her fingers stirring her meaty folds and her expression went cloudy.

Then I was feeding her pussy my cock again, my height making it simple.

"Uh-huh, oh fuck," my mother breathed, closing her eyes. "Gently," she sighed. "Love me. Just for a little while. Love your mother."

She returned the kiss when I leaned in and slid my tongue into her mouth.

"Mum, I love you so much," I said on a surge of feelings for her.

"Oh, I love you as well," she replied on a moan.

Then we were moving together, slow and easy, her body accepting the length in gentle, liquid strokes as we kissed and kissed and kissed. I couldn't keep my hands off her body. I caressed and squeezed, savouring the velvety texture of her skin, the spongy-taut firmness and weight of her large breasts setting the beast roaring again.

When the urges ballooned inside me, I hooked the backs of her knees with the crooks of my arms, spreading her wide as I went on tip-toe to fuck at her body.

"Don't come inside me," she gasped, repeating it as I went at her.

"I want to," I said, sobbing it out.

"No, you can't. Do it on my tits instead. In my mouth. I'll suck it. Just don't-fucking-come inside me."

She was looking at me with her face twisted into an expression of her own agonised ecstasy. Her big tits were rolling, her labia clinging to my cock on the outstroke, her clit a swollen bean while she gasped and moaned and somehow managed to keep herself from falling off the counter.

"Your tits," I snarled, suddenly eager to see it.

"God, you're a pig," my mother replied, fingers on her bean.

"Then I'll just do it in you," I groaned.

Her expression cleared and she looked at me with venom in her eyes. "I said don't. That's not allowed. Not this time."

I wanted to ask why but I was so close to losing control.

"Now," I gasped, rutting into her squelching pussy.

My mother yipped a startled, "Oh!" and pushed me away. "All right, here," she said as slid off the counter. "On my tits."

It was close. I was cranking my dick, wild with the need to come when she went down onto her knees and hefted her breasts with both hands. She presented that shelf of tit-flesh to me, the profanities pouring from her mouth while she eyed my cock with a sex-crazy sheen in her gaze.

"Uh-huh, come on those tits," she said, squeaking it out like she was as keen as me to se it. "Mummy's big tits," she mumbled, crinkling her nose while she teased me with her smirk. "Such a dirty boy," she added. "Look at you wanking that big, wonderful cock."

The hot stuff was flicking out of my cock as the word 'wanking' came from her mouth, the first spurt of it splashing across her cheek.

She yelped and flinched when the cum spattered against her face, the second and third rushes of spunk hitting the target, blobs of ejaculate besmirching the flawless skin at the upper slopes of her breasts.

By then I was groaning, wanking myself over her boobs until drained.

When it was done my mother's frontage resembled a plasterer's radio. Spatters of goo decorated her breasts while rivulets ran down over the flanks. Her nipples were long fleshy tips of excited flesh, their areolae pimpled and puckered as a sign of her arousal despite her loud protests about the mess I'd made and how I was such a dirty, filthy creature.

"My God, I'm drenched," my mother said, disgust in her tone.

Then her actions belied her words as she leaned in, took hold of my cock, sucked the bulb clean, and then proceeded to paint spunk over her tits using the dome like a brush.

She was smirking at me when she said: "Better than those dirty magazines, isn't it?"

Awed by it all, stunned by what she'd said and done, thrilled by what I was seeing, I gulped hard, nodding as I croaked out an affirmative.

"I wanted to do it inside you," I gasped.

"Not this time," my mother said as she gestured towards the tea-towel draped over the handle on the oven door. "Get me that. I need to clean up your mess."

As I complied, I asked: "Why not this time?"

"Your father wouldn't be happy if he found me full of your cum."

Fear hit me when she mentioned my father. I thought of the carnage if he'd walked in and found his wife with her legs spread for his son. That sent any questions I had spinning away. I looked at my mother and then down to my cock, the bulb slick and wet, the shaft still halfway interested in case there was more.

"I better get my clothes," I said, suddenly worried we'd be discovered. It was reckless, bordering on stupidity to take such a risk as the do it in the kitchen. Hell, just doing it with her was crazy enough. My father was the kind of man capable of tearing limbs off people who crossed him. God only knew what he'd do to me if he caught me balls deep in his wife.

"Mm, yes," my mother replied as she dabbed and wiped at herself. "I think I should do the same. I need to go upstairs and get properly clean."

I flapped around and gathered my clothing, urging my mother to hurry, certain my father would walk through the door.

It was an evening of anxiety for me. Paranoid and jumpy, I managed to get through the evening meal. I glanced at my mother from time to time, amazed at how cool and collected she was. Her demeanour was all about normality. She didn't give anything away. If what we'd started was on her mind, I never saw a single sign during the meal. At one time I did notice my sister looking at me with an odd expression on her face. She was frowning, head canted towards one shoulder like she was examining me. It unnerved me to see her looking, but I put that down to her sensing the tension coming from me. She didn't mention anything when I helped her wash the pots and pans, which helped to settle my anxiety because we'd always bantered back and forth like siblings do; if there'd been something on her mind she could use to her advantage or to annoy me, she would. As it was, I was monosyllabic in response to her inane chatter, eager to get back to my room to continue analysing what had happened between me and my mother. With the dishes done I scuttled away on the pretext I had some coursework to do, hiding in my room, insides churning in a swirl of conflicting sensations: desire for my mother's ripe, voluptuous body mixed in with absolute dread of my father's wrath.

She came to my bedroom at a few minutes shy of half-past-eight. It was a Monday night I would never forget.

"Hello, darling," my mother said when she entered the room.

I felt the same sensations rush through me: a surge of desire and the fear. She was wearing her dressing gown, the pink towelling robe she wore after a bath. I was on my bed in my jeans, tee-shirt, and socks.

"Mum," I breathed, thrilled but anxious.

Then I gasped, my dick stiffening inside my jeans when she loosened the robe and let it part to expose her bare body beneath.

"Get it out," my mother breathed. There was mischief in her face when she said it and she also thrust her chin at me.

"Dad's home," I croaked, eyes on the inner flanks of her breasts. I still squeezed my dick through my jeans as I looked at her, frustrated because I wanted it all but her nipples were hidden from view inside the robe. "And Bella," I added.

"Just for a minute," my mother crooned as she moved closer. "I'll suck it for you."

She dropped the robe. I groaned and arched onto my heels and shoulder blades in the rush to get my jeans and underwear down. My heart was thumping, jumping around inside the cage of my ribs like a startled bird on the thrill of excitement and the rush of gambling with my life.

It wasn't likely, but if my father walked in...

"God, I just love the way you're always ready," my mother said as the bed dipped under her weight. "Lovely, big, hard-fucking cock," she added, almost salivating as the words came out. She leaned in over my thighs, breasts squashing against us as she took control of my erection. She murmured: "Uh-huh, there's my big, wonderful boy," staring as she stroked my cock. She did it for a few seconds, the eased onto her side, her hand going to her sex while she pursed her lips and lowered her mouth over my big swollen dome.

I groaned and pushed my fingers into her hair. "Mum," I mumbled, loving her for being that way with me.

"I want you to lick me," my mother said after sucking her cheeks concave for several wonderful seconds. "I'm going to fuck your father. Make me wet for him."

Jealousy for my father soured inside me. I hated him during a momentary flash of outrage and anger. I didn't want to share her with him. She was my mother; I'd come out of her body; we shared a bond that transcended romantic love they had for each other. And I felt that love for her, too. We were mother and son, but we were also more and, in that blink of an eye, I was prepared to fight my father for her love.

During that time of idiocy, I was pouty and bratty when I said: "I want to fuck you."

My mother chuckled and moved up to kiss my mouth. Our tongues swirled for a couple of seconds, my hands moving over her skin.

"You did," she said, smirking when she pulled back from the kiss. "You came on my tits."

Lust rose like hot milk on a stove. I grabbed her and kissed her again, gasping and moaning when the dark urge to fuck into her body made me a beast.

She let me do it for a short time. My mother returned the kiss, her fist working my length while I mauled at her tits and grabbed any part of her I could lay my hands on.

Then she got stern, pushing m away, eyes flashing fire. "Stop it," she said. "Just lick me. I want you to kiss my cunt."

Her use of that word was still shocking to me. After years of knowing her as a prim and proper maternal figure, and having never heard her use any profanity stronger than 'bloody' or 'damn', and even those in times of utmost provocation when either my sister or I had done something wrong, to hear that obscenity coming from her was like a physical slap.

Then she compounded the nastiness of it by moving onto her hands and knees, those big tits swinging as she angled her hips.

"Like you did on Saturday," my mother went on.

What came next melted the jealousy away like ice on the pavement on a summer day. My mother smirked and then looked vixen as she held her bottom lip between her teeth while she crinkled her nose at me.

"My dirty-hole, too," she sighed. "Get back there and lick your mother's cunt. Lick my arsehole as well."

I was yanking my dick when I tasted her essence, her low, half-choked groan a signal she was loving having my tongue on her big swollen clit. I sucked the fleshy nub between my lips and then moved to tongue her sex, her lust liquid honey before I splayed her buttocks with the tips of my fingers, the smudge winking at me.

"God, yes, that's just so fucking wicked," my mother sobbed, my tongue as deep as I could go in the taboo of her sphincter. "It's wet and squirmy back there. I love it. It's divine. Lick mummy's bottom."

I knew we were getting noisy. I could her my mother's squeaks of delight as well as her vocal pleasure. It was in the back of my mind those sounds might attract attention. It wouldn't matter who found us. My sister would probably shout the house down if she caught me with my tongue wedged in our mother's rectum. That would bring my father at a run. There would be no explanation. It would be exactly as it looked: incest between mother and son. We wouldn't be able to make an excuse. We'd be caught and the consequences would be catastrophic.

That notion was there inside my head. A little vague and distant to be sure. Caught in a net of madness I was wild and reckless. It was lust and desire, my tongue teasing my mother in a place it had no right to be and, while aware we could be caught at any second, the need was so overwhelming I kept on working at my mother's body, snuffling and snorting as I licked and lapped and sucked at her intimate places.

I blurted an objection when she eventually rolled onto her front and away.

"I'm soaking," my mother said. She was standing next to the bed, her fingers at her vulva, eyes wide as she stared at me. "God, that's got me so worked up," she told me, showing her fingers smeared with her lust.

I was wanking, desperate for her. "I want to fuck you," I gasped.

"Your father wants this tonight," my mother said. "I told you. He's my husband. My pussy belongs to him."

I was still yanking my length as my mother leaned over to pick up her robe. I made a grab for her body, the jeans thwarting my efforts because they were down at my shins.

"Come with me," my mother said as she belted the gown at her waist.

My hand stopped. I said: "What?"

"Come with me," she said, clarifying I hadn't misheard.

Of course, I asked: "But why?"

"There's something I want to show you."

She was at the door when she said it, pausing as she looked at me.

"Pull your jeans up. Let's go."

I hesitated.

"Now," my mother said, barking it out like an order. "No stupid questions," she added when I opened my mouth. "Just get off the bed, pull your jeans up, and come with me."

I didn't want to but I did at the same time. I couldn't think of a single thing she might want to show me, and the questions were in my head: Where were we going? Why? What was it? Something sexy or innocuous?

Curious yet cautious, I did as she said.

"Here," my mother murmured a few moments later.

Alarmed because we were at her bedroom door, I started to turn away.

"No," my mother said, grabbing my wrist. She held my gaze for a few beats. Then she said: "Trust me."

She levered the handle down and pushed the door open.

The air left me when I heard my sister say: "Daddy, they're here."