The Birthday Box

One of her hands found its way to the crown and subjected the spongy knob to a gentle massage, ensuring she kept my dick happy while she focused the bulk of her attentions elsewhere. Her slimy fingers explored the head with an exceedingly soft touch; she placed her thumb and forefinger in the shape of a "U" so it fit snugly into the trench below the head.

Oh fuck, not yet! I screamed internally as I felt my orgasm make itself known. A hundred men couldn't have pulled me away from that magical box, but I knew if I didn't do it myself I would soon be meeting the end of my wonderful adventure, so I made the hard choice.

Right as I felt the point of no return on the horizon, I hastily pulled my dick from the box. I saw for the first time just how generously my dick was smothered with lipstick, making it look like a warrior in the heat of battle. My dick was barely recognizable, hidden amongst the bright red streaks and dribbles of brightly coloured saliva that dripped down the sides. I can act like I paused as a courtesy to clean my dick for her, but that wasn't the whole truth.

I took off my shirt and quickly wiped off as much of the mess as I could, though I remained so rock hard that I still barely recognized the throbbing member between my legs. I had never been so horny in my entire life, and my unparalleled erection was proof.

I looked back to the box in vain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the seductress it housed, but was met with the familiar sight of her gaping maw pressed up against the hole - a hole that was soaked through with spit. The circle was darker than the rest of the box, showing clear signs that her constant drooling was eventually going to tear an even larger hole in it if we kept going.

Her mouth hung open obediently, waiting eagerly for my return and saying nothing of the pause. She was there to serve, and that's all she wanted to do. She was patient, running her tongue over her lips or letting it hang out like a panting dog, desperately trying to entice me back to her.

Intrigue overtook my better judgement, and I knew I had to truly take advantage of the situation. I was being too timid. I needed to see what the mystery woman was capable of, and I knew just how to test her.

As I edged closer to the box, she stayed perfectly still, waiting for me to touch her tongue again. As soon as I did, I made sure to push forward with enough force to thrust myself back into the depths of her throat. She gagged forcefully from the impact against her gullet, but made no remarks even as I pulled the entire length out.

Again, she remained poised with her mouth pressed directly against the opening of the box, which is exactly what I wanted. I drove my cock back into her throat until my balls were against the box, then I pulled out. I repeated that a couple of times until I was sure she got the message, then I began to thrust -- and I mean really thrust.

With every push inside I bottomed out against the back of her throat and heard her audibly gag at the intrusion, occasionally swallowing air that was forced out the next time I sunk to the root. I didn't stay there for more than a second before withdrawing my dick to let her gasp for breath, giving her just enough time before I filled her mouth with meat again.

"Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp..." Over and over again she violently gagged on the cock plunging into her throat, filling the room with that delicious, surreal sound.

My balls bounced against the side of the box, and I wondered what it was like for her inside. With her throat being repeatedly hammered, no light for her to see, and the box itself shaking like a hurricane, it must've been pretty overwhelming. But she held on like a pro. The table beneath us was creaking from the force of my new approach, rocking back and forth and scraping on the hardwood.

At some point - and without warning -- I abandoned my rapid thrusting in favor of a single, slow, powerful push. I jammed myself into her mouth, holding myself inside of her muggy walls for a moment just to savour the warmth. I did that a few times, pulling out then diving all the way back in, until I decided to test her resolve. I bottomed my dick out against her gullet and stayed there.

She did not move at first, but as the seconds passed she realized I wasn't going to move, and she began to shuffle back and forth anxiously. She murmured something that was too muffled to hear, which was followed by whimpers that made her sound like a wounded animal. We both waited for the other to crack first - a dangerous game of chicken it cost me nothing to keep my dick buried in the confines of her throat, but for her it was much harder. With each passing second she grew closer to blacking out, and I knew it was only a matter of time before panic forced her to act.

"Weae!" With my dick bulging against her cheeks, her words were muffled. She knocked her knuckles against the hard, wooden tabletop, protesting from within her cardboard prison. She was begging me to stop, unwilling to let herself quit. "Dewey, weae!"

I couldn't understand what she was saying, but it sounded important. With a heavy heart, I dislodged my cock. She immediately took to dry heaving and coughing before she let out a very un-ladylike belch, which was probably my fault from forcing all that air into her belly.

"I said please, goddammit! What...what the f-fuck was that?" She croaked with saliva still thick in her throat, earnestly savouring the oxygen that must have seemed like a privilege. "You've never d-done that to me before."

What?

Wait.

WHAT???

I knew that voice. I knew it well. Until then, it had been too muted by the box for me to have caught on, but she was finally speaking clearly, and I could tell in a fraction of a second that something was very, very wrong. I wanted to speak, but I was terrified of what would happen if she recognized me, as I had already recognized her. The woman in the box was waiting for me to reply, so I offered a meager grunt to sate her.

She sighed with a timid sniffle, like she was on the verge of tears. "I don't know if this is, like, part of it or whatever, but that was way too rough, Gerry. My throat actually hurts now. Why did you do that?"

Don't talk. Don't talk. Don't talk.

"Fine. Fine, I won't talk, I know that's part of it." She sighed -- heavier that time, as though she was admitting defeat. "Just... I mean, please, remember who's in this box, okay?"

Don't talk. Don't talk. Don't talk.

"O-okay, you're kind of scaring me, honey." I could hear her shaking with nerves. "I just... am I doing okay? Is this what you wanted?"

I grunted. It was the least I could have done.

Even if she didn't love what was happening to her, she clearly loved making me feel good - well, 'me.' Her voice seemed to raise an octave as she chimed, "Really? Okay, well... did you want to fuck me now, sweetheart?"

I did. Oh god, I really did, and it crushed me to the core to feel that way. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman in the box -- the mouth that had nearly given me the most powerful orgasm of my life -- belonged to my mother.

It all made sense to me. I'd stumbled upon that 'freeuse' fantasy I had overheard them talking about. That was why Mom had said she would see me 'tomorrow morning.'

Mom was Dad's birthday present, and I wasn't supposed to be home.

Chills ran through my body like a plague though the streets of London, infecting every corner of me with guilt, doubt, anxiety, and fear, but all of that paled in comparison to one thing -- one terrible, lustful thing that I physically could not ignore.

I draped the tablecloth over the small mouth hole again, temporarily convincing myself that if I couldn't see it, it didn't exist. That idea was blown wide open by the red heels I could still see jutting out from the other side of the box, and I moved towards them on autopilot.

The smart part of my brain was screaming at me to do the right thing. If I stopped then and there, after having heard my mother's voice clearly for the first time, it was just a misunderstanding. If I kept going, it was much more than that. On the other hand was the dead obvious: if I stopped, I would never know what it felt like to have sex with my own mother.

But why is that something I want so badly?

A thousand realizations came to light in an instant, but the one that shone with the greatest clarity was the one telling me that I knew what I wanted. I always had. I had always gone out of my way to be close with Mom, emotionally and physically, to the point where being called a "mama's boy" would have been a compliment. We'd been attached at the hip when I was a kid, and Dad had never understood it. Frankly, until tonight, neither had I. As much as the raw, sexual desire felt new, it also felt so natural that I wondered if it had always been in my subconscious. For whatever it was worth, the universe had certainly gone out its way to provide.

"Happy birthday, honey." Mom cooed like a canary in a cage, shaking her ass like before so her doughy cheeks clapped together. Her apprehension from moments ago seemed entirely gone. It seemed that the thrill of being told she was doing such a good job was all she needed to get back into character. "Now, come on, fuck your birthday present."

I shamefully followed the sound of Mom's ass cheeks clapping against themselves until I was looking at the same view I'd started with, though it felt much different. I was no longer merely looking at a naked woman. I was looking at the very vagina that had given birth to me, and it was making my dick surge with energy, like I had swallowed lightning.

Even without seeing her face, it was impossible to shake the knowledge of who was in that box. Every time her swollen ass cheeks rocked to the side and I caught a glimpse of her pink, puckered asshole, I was struck with the memory of my tongue sliding against it. It occurred to me that I was one of the few boys in the world that knew what their own Mother's pussy tasted like and I was never, ever going to forget it.

Her large, matronly ass swayed in front of me like it was taunting me, and I thought back to all those times I had mentally compared it to that of a Pixar mom -- all the times I had seen her ass wobbling like pudding as she cooked dinner, or pulled vegetables from the garden, or bent over to vacuum under the coffee table, and every single time I had wondered, as innocently as I could have, how it might've looked if she'd done those chores nude. While technically there were still bits and pieces of her left to my imagination, they weren't the bits and pieces. Those, I had seen, smelled, and tasted.

I mirrored my movements from the start of our coupling and placed a hand on both of her cheeks, peeling them apart to reveal the succulent peach they hid from view. Long, glistening strands of honey draped from one side of Mom's vagina to the other, making her tidy, shaved pussy look like a jungle of slimy, translucent vines. Her center was swimming in nectar so thick that I could almost see my reflection in it, and I couldn't fight the urge to see if it felt as slippery as it looked.

One of her fat ass cheeks wobbled to a slow standstill when I finally released it, but the other stayed firmly spread in my grip. I didn't even need to get my finger wet first; Mom had that covered. My finger pressed against the entrance to her sultry tunnel and slowly pushed inside. I couldn't believe how easily it swallowed me up, but then it occurred to me that she had once stretched wide enough to push me out of there, and so perhaps she deserved some credit.

One knuckle after another disappeared until my whole finger was inside of my mother, feeling her body squirm and clench around me from the inside for the first time. I wanted to fit another, but the raging erection stabbing me in the gut was motivation to move on. I could have spent an entire week devoted solely to exploring my Mom's vagina by touch and taste alone, but to my arousal was added fear - fear that every moment that passed increased the likelihood I would be discovered.

I pulled my finger out of Mom and stuffed it into my mouth without even thinking. I already missed her taste and I wanted more, but I couldn't keep my dick at bay any longer.

I towered over my mother like a giant over a helpless damsel whose only course of action was to wait for mine -- a servant in every sense of the word. Her pussy had drowned my brain in so many pheromones that I wasn't thinking straight, and all I wanted to do was conquer her.

I stood between Mom's legs, and her feet wiggled with anticipation. She tapped her shoes together so the heels made a click clack. I pushed her legs together until they met, and her muffin bulged obscenely from between her thighs, making a perfect home for the head of my cock. With one hand heartily gripping Mom's ass, I lined myself up with her entrance. My dick pushed forward through the swamp of thick, syrupy pussy juices as I dragged the helmet through her lips. Her soft petals folded around me in a humid hug as I nudged them apart. My fat knob then gently glided through her greasy curtains until I eased it into her snug pocket. It fit me like a glove.

I could still see the ridge of my dick head waiting to go inside, and already I was amazed with how incredible it felt to be inside of my mother. I was embedded enough that I could use both hands to spread her ass open. All I had to do was push forward, and the slippery hole had no choice but to swallow me up. I opened Mom's ass cheeks to watch the spectacle as the rest of my cockhead sunk into her vagina, greeted by a warmth that made her mouth seem frigid.

Mom's oven clenched around me the way she had displayed earlier, finally giving me a taste of what her talents felt like. There was nothing to keep me from slamming into her like a cheap sex doll, but, knowing what I knew, I wanted to take my time. Each time I pushed further inside of her, I had to force myself not to immediately orgasm from the change in sensation, as she only became warmer and wetter the further I dove.

My knuckles were white; I was gripping onto Mom's hips like she was the last piece of shelter in a tornado. I knew my knees were shaking, but I hoped she didn't notice when I felt my thighs meet her soft, pillowy ass. The enormous globes flattened against me like pancakes as I pulled her into me. Finally, I nudged her cervix with my raging cock head, reaching the bottom of the vagina that had given birth to me.

I paused for a moment, letting eons pass to allow me to fully accept the sensation of feeling my mother squeezing her pussy around me like she was begging to be bred. Her cervix kissed the tip of my cock, and her walls constricted so tight that I could feel her seize up from even the most subtle flex. I gently rocked my pulsing cock head against the mouth of her womb, bulging against the spongy wall.

I was lucky that it felt so good to pull out of her -- to feel that plushy velvet creeping along every inch of my cock -- or I would have stayed buried inside of her for an eternity. I kept the head within Mom's grip as I eased my way back in, and stifled a groan when she began her rhythmic squeezing, kneading my cock with her silky walls like she was trying to coax the cum out of me.

We continued that slow grind for a while, moving in tandem in a patient flow that always ended with me pressing up against her cervix. The cushy wall kissed the tip of my cock every time they met, driving more blood to the inflated head nestled inside her. Mom pushed her ass into me every time I hit bottom, begging for another inch to be fed into her greedy pussy even though we both knew she was full to the brim.

We moulded together until I couldn't tell what I was feeling anymore. I felt so uniquely connected to Mom that I couldn't think of anything beyond the sweltering melting pot slowly cooking me inside its depths. Mom gave me a series of rapid squeezes, as if encouraging me to move faster. I fought the instinct that urged me to fuck her as hard as I could right away, forcing myself instead to pick up the pace gradually. I pulled my dick from her warmth, feeling her tunnel close behind me as I withdrew the intruder prodding around inside her guts.

The first real push almost sent me over the edge, forcing me to bite down on my bottom lip so hard I almost drew blood. My arms were rooted to Mom's hips for support as I pulled her against me in tandem with my thrust. I shook my head to rid my vision of the stars that danced around it like a halo, steadying myself as I readied another deep dive into Mom's pussy.

The second time was just as sweet as the first, yet twice as hard to control. I'd had a taste and wanted more. I needed more. I couldn't bear to let more than half of my cock out of her clutches, instantly succumbing to the throes of sexual addiction. I couldn't think -- couldn't move -- other than to fulfill the carnal, primordial desire to conquer the woman presenting herself to me.

I grunted like a bull as I dragged her onto my dick, huffing and puffing in a vain attempt to stop myself from going over the edge. I knew that each time I did I was summoning an orgasm that already felt like it was going to knock me unconscious. Fire boiled in the pit of my stomach like a cauldron threatening to spill.

Each time Mom's fat, wobbly bottom flattened against me -- each time the ripples surged through her soft flesh -- it was like watching bumper cars collide. I was moving with such conviction that the colossal mounds of dough weren't given a chance to rest. You would have thought we'd practiced that dance a thousand times by how effortlessly we moved together, perfectly timing everything so our momentum did half of the work for us.

Over the sound of our slickened skin slapping together, I could faintly make out the sound of Mom's subtle whimpering coming from inside the box. It almost sounded like she was in pain, but I realized that was just my brain playing tricks on me. I had heard her voice for so many years, yet had never heard her make that specific sound. It was surreal to hear my own Mother yelping like a cat in heat, so much so that I didn't immediately recognize the ecstasy she was awash in. Her voice was higher than I had ever heard, coming out like a mouse squeak with every "oh" when she felt me touch bottom. As she grew louder, the reality of her pleasure became too obvious to ignore. I could tell she had a hand in front of her mouth to try and save some of her pride, lest she sound completely depraved.

Her toes were curled so tight I thought they were going to break, quivering in her red heels. The shoes clacked against each other every time I pushed inside of her, creating a symphony of sounds that each fought for my attention. "Click, Oh, clack, Oh God, slap, click, Oh My God, clack, slap." Each piece played its part perfectly, giving us a soundtrack so alluring that I couldn't have slowed my pace if it had cost me my life.

Mom had given up on trying to meet my strokes and could only hold herself in place amid the torrent of rampant thrusting. What strength she lacked, I made up for with an iron grip on her waist, digging my fingers into her sides so she wouldn't be thrown forward when I drove my cock into her. The box was shifting back and forth with us, like it, too, was holding on for dear life. I knew that if it was somehow jostled loose, everything would come crashing down with it, but even that threat could not stop my advances.

My hands pried Mom's ass open, exposing her tiny backdoor to my unwavering stare. The pink donut was protruding from her like a small, raised hill, violently clenching in time with the rhythmic squeezes of her seizing cunt. I gazed upon the puckered ring with a passion I had never felt before. I wasn't all that into anal, unlike some guys I knew, but I was suddenly stricken with an urge to explore parts of my Mom that had never interested me before. I wanted all of her.