Forbidden Mother-son Temptation
by BangMySlut
Copyright© 2026 by BangMySlut
Incest Sex Story: I want this story based on mother and teenage son rhythm and arousal buildup that mother crosses the line starts with teasing and touching sexually. Monica is a stay home mother with very large DD tits, large areolas, curvy body, black hair, brown eyes, and hidden lustful desires toward her son after seen his large 11 inch hard while he was sleeping as totally nude on his bed.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Teenagers Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Fiction True Story Cheating Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Incest Mother Son Interracial Black Male White Male Oriental Male Hispanic Male Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Porn Theatre Transformation AI Generated .
Monica stepped quietly into her son Jake’s bedroom, the afternoon sun filtering through the half-closed blinds. At 38, she was the picture of domestic allure—a curvy stay-at-home mom with black hair cascading over her shoulders, brown eyes that held secrets, and DD breasts straining against her simple tank top. Her wide hips swayed as she moved her large areolas faintly visible through the thin fabric. She’d come to wake him for lunch, but the sight that greeted her stopped her cold.
Jake, her 18-year-old son, lay sprawled on his bed, completely nude. The sheets had twisted around his legs, leaving his body exposed. His chest rose and fell in the deep rhythm of sleep, but what drew her gaze like a magnet was the massive erection jutting from his groin. Eleven inches of thick, veined cock stood rigid against his stomach, the head flushed purple and glistening with a bead of precum. Monica’s breath hitched. She’d always known he was growing into a man, but this ... this was a revelation. Her hidden desires, buried deep under layers of maternal duty, surged to the surface. Heat pooled between her thighs as she stared, her pussy clenching involuntarily.
She should leave. Turn around and pretend she saw nothing. But her feet wouldn’t move. Instead, she edged closer, her heart pounding in sync with the throb she imagined in his shaft. The room smelled faintly of his youthful musk, stirring something primal in her. Monica licked her lips, her brown eyes darkening with lust. How many nights had she fantasized about this? About touching him, tasting him, crossing that forbidden line? Now, with him asleep and vulnerable, the temptation was overwhelming.
Biting her lower lip, she reached out a trembling hand. Her fingers hovered just above his cock, feeling the warmth radiating from it. The buildup was slow, deliberate—a teasing dance of restraint. She traced the air along its length without touching, watching it twitch slightly in response to the unseen stimulus. Her own arousal built in waves, her nipples hardening into peaks that poked against her top, her curvy body flushing with need. Finally, she made contact. The tip of her index finger brushed the underside of his shaft, light as a feather. Jake stirred but didn’t wake, a soft murmur escaping his lips.
Emboldened, Monica wrapped her fingers around the base, her hand barely encircling its girth. She squeezed gently, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat through the velvety skin. She stroked it up and down, slow and rhythmic, matching the rise and fall of his chest. Precum leaked steadily now, slicking her palm as she pumped him with increasing confidence. Her other hand slipped under her tank top, cupping one heavy DD breast, thumb circling her large areola. She pinched her nipple, a gasp slipping out as pleasure shot straight to her core. Her pussy ached, soaking her panties.
Jake’s hips bucked faintly in his sleep, his cock swelling even harder in her grip. Monica leaned in, her black hair falling forward like a curtain. She lowered her head, her hot breath ghosting over the tip. Teasing still, she extended her tongue and flicked it against the slit, lapping up the salty precum. The taste exploded on her tongue—musky, forbidden, intoxicating. She swirled her tongue around the head, sucking lightly, her lips forming a soft seal. Jake moaned, his body arching toward her mouth, but his eyes remained closed.
The rhythm intensified. Monica bobbed her head, taking more of his length into her warm mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Her hand twisted at the base, stroking what she couldn’t yet swallow. Saliva dripped down his shaft, mixing with his precum, making obscene wet sounds that filled the room. Her free hand delved into her shorts, fingers finding her swollen clit. She rubbed in circles, syncing her movements to the slide of her mouth on his cock. Arousal built like a crescendo, her body trembling with the effort to stay quiet.
She pulled back slowly, strings of spit connecting her lips to his throbbing head. Looking up at his peaceful face, guilt flickered but was drowned by lust. This was crossing the line—teasing had become devouring. Monica stood, shedding her tank top to free her massive tits. They bounced heavily, nipples dark and erect against her pale skin. She climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, her curvy ass settling against his knees. Her hands returned to his cock, jerking it firmly now, aiming it toward her dripping pussy.
‘Wake up, baby,’ she whispered her voice husky with need. But she didn’t wait. Positioning herself, she lowered her hips, the head of his 11-inch cock nudging her slick folds. She ground against it, coating him in her juices, teasing her entrance with his tip. The friction sent sparks through her, her large areolas tightening further. Slowly, inch by inch, she sank down, her pussy stretching around his girth. A low groan escaped her as she took him deeper, the fullness overwhelming.
Jake’s eyes fluttered open, confusion turning to shock as he registered his mother riding him. ‘Mom what—oh fuck’ His hands gripped her hips instinctively, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, his body responded, thrusting up to meet her descent. Monica fully impaled herself, her ass slapping against his thighs as she began to bounce. Her DD breasts jiggled with each motion, her brown eyes locking onto his in a haze of shared taboo ecstasy.
She rode him hard now, the buildup exploding into raw fucking. Her pussy clenched around his cock, milking him as she ground her clit against his base. ‘I’ve wanted this, Jake. Your big cock ... it’s mine now.’ He groaned, hands roaming to squeeze her tits, thumbs flicking her nipples. The rhythm was relentless—up and down, wet slaps echoing, her curvy body undulating in waves of pleasure.
Cum built in him fast, his balls tightening. Monica felt it too, her orgasm crashing over her. She slammed down one last time, crying out as her pussy spasm juices flooding around his shaft. Jake followed, his cock erupting deep inside her, hot spurts filling her womb. They collapsed together, panting, the line irrevocably crossed in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and forbidden bliss.
- The days following that explosive afternoon blurred into a haze of guilt and insatiable craving for Monica. Jake, her 18-year-old son, had stumbled out of his room in a daze after their frantic coupling, his massive 11-inch cock still slick with her juices. They hadn’t spoken of it since—awkward silences at dinner, averted eyes in the hallway. Her husband, Tom, was oblivious, buried in work emails even as he packed for his two-week business trip. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he’d said, kissing her cheek before leaving that morning. Now, alone with Jake in the house, the tension simmered like a pot ready to boil over.
Monica’s curvy body betrayed her at every turn. Her DD breasts felt heavier, nipples chafing against her bras as memories flooded back: the stretch of her pussy around his girth, the hot flood of his cum inside her. Shame gnawed at her— she was his mother, for God’s sake—but it only fueled the fire. That evening, after Jake retreated to his room with a mumbled goodnight, she couldn’t resist. Driving to the outskirts of town, she pulled into the parking lot of an adult bookstore she’d passed a hundred times but never entered. The neon sign buzzed ‘Pleasures Unlimited,’ and her heart raced as she stepped inside, the bell jingling like an alarm.
The air was thick with the scent of latex and lubricant. Shelves lined with DVDs, toys, and magazines assaulted her senses. Her brown eyes darted around, cheeks flushing under her black hair. A clerk behind the counter—a burly man with tattoos—nodded without comment. Monica’s pussy throbbed as she wandered to the dildo section, her large areolas tightening under her blouse. She needed something to bridge the gap, to sate the ache without risking more with Jake. Her fingers trailed over silicone cocks of varying sizes until one stopped her cold: 11 inches long, thick as her wrist, veined realistically, with a bulbous head that mirrored her son’s erection perfectly. It even had a slight upward curve, just like his.
Heat surged through her core. She imagined Jake’s real shaft in her hand, pulsing. Picking it up, she squeezed it, feeling the firmness yield slightly. Arousal dripped between her thighs, soaking her panties right there in the aisle. She glanced around—no one watching—and pressed the tip against her palm, rubbing it like she had his skin that day. Her breath quickened; she was getting off in public, the perversion of it making her clit swell. Rushing to the counter, she paid with cash, avoiding eye contact, and hurried to her car. In the driver’s seat, she couldn’t wait. Hiking up her skirt, she shoved the dildo against her mound, grinding through her wet underwear. ‘Fuck, Jake,’ she whispered, circling her clit with the head until a quick orgasm rippled through her, leaving her panting and spent.
Back home, Jake was already asleep—or pretending to be. Monica stashed the toy in her nightstand and crawled into bed beside Tom, who snored softly, exhausted from travels prep. But sleep evaded her. The house was silent save for the clock ticking, and her mind replayed the bookstore thrill. Slipping out of bed naked, her curvy hips swaying, she padded to the living room in the dark. The laptop glowed as she booted it up, fingers trembling as she typed ‘mother son incest porn.’ Videos loaded: women like her, voluptuous and forbidden, riding young cocks with abandon.
She selected one—a busty mom sneaking into her son’s room, sucking him off while the dad slept nearby. Monica’s hand dipped between her legs, fingers plunging into her slick pussy as she watched. The actress’s moans synced with her own soft gasps. But it wasn’t enough. She fetched the dildo from upstairs, careful not to wake Tom. Back on the couch, legs spread wide she licked the fake cock from base to tip, tasting the new silicone mixed with her saliva. ‘This is you, baby,’ she murmured, eyes on the screen where the mom impaled herself. Positioning the suction base on the coffee table, Monica lowered her dripping cunt onto it, the thick head parting her folds.
She sank down slowly, inch by veiny inch, her walls stretching around the replica of her son’s dick. A low moan escaped as she bottomed out, her ass cheeks pressing against the table. Up and down she rode, her heavy DD tits bouncing freely, large areolas dark and puckered. The rhythm built—slow grinds turning to hard slams, her juices coating the shaft and pooling on the wood. On screen, the son came inside his mom; Monica’s fantasy overlaid it with Jake’s face, his real cum filling her that afternoon. Her fingers found her clit, rubbing furiously as she fucked the toy deeper, the perversion twisting her shame into ecstasy. Orgasm hit like a wave, her pussy clenching around the dildo, milking it as if it were alive. She bit her lip to stifle the cry, collapsing forward, sweat beading on her curvy frame.
This became her ritual over the next few nights. Tom called from his hotel, voice distant, while Monica, fresh from a session with the dildo, lied about missing him. But she missed Jake’s cock more. Weeks passed without contact—Jake ate meals in his room, Monica busied herself with chores, both strangled by guilt. Yet the shame only sharpened her hunger. She’d catch glimpses of him: his broad shoulders in the shower steam, the bulge in his shorts. Each sighting sent her retreating to the bathroom, fingers working her pussy until she came whispering his name.
One night, Tom’s snoring filled the bedroom again. Monica, unable to sleep, grabbed the laptop and the dildo. This time, she escalated. Propping pillows against the headboard, she positioned herself inches from her sleeping husband, the toy suctioned to the mattress between her spread thighs. The porn played silently on her phone: a gang of sons ravaging their mom, but she focused on the solo scenes, imagining Jake’s hands on her. She teased first—rubbing the dildo’s head along her slit, coating it in her arousal—building the rhythm like she had with his real cock. Her brown eyes flicked to Tom’s peaceful face; the risk made her wetter.
Plunging down, she took the full length, her cunt gripping tight. She rocked her hips, the fake balls slapping her ass softly. One hand kneaded her breast, pinching the nipple hard, while the other scrolled to dirtier clips—moms pegging sons, anal play, water sports. The perversion seeped in; Monica’s fantasies darkened. She pictured Jake bending her over, fucking her ass while Tom watched unknowingly. Faster she rode, the table creak replaced by the wet squelch of her pussy devouring the toy. Sweat slicked her black hair to her forehead, her curvy body undulating in the dim light.
Guilt twisted in her gut—how had she become this? A mother reduced to furtive masturbation beside her husband, obsessed with her boy’s cock. But wanting more overpowered it. As climax neared, she shoved three fingers into her mouth, sucking them like Jake’s shaft, muffling her whimpers. The orgasm tore through her, pussy spasming violently around the dildo, juices squirting onto the sheets. She rode it out, grinding until oversensitive, and then pulled off with a gasp.
The next morning, Jake confronted her in the kitchen. ‘Mom ... we need to talk about what happened.’ His voice was low, eyes hungry despite the flush of embarrassment. Monica’s heart pounded, her pussy clenching at the sight of him. The business trip had weeks left; the house was theirs. Shame cracked under desire. ‘I know, baby,’ she said, stepping closer, her hand brushing his crotch where his cock stirred. ‘I’ve been thinking about it too Every night.’
That afternoon, with the doors locked, she led him to her bedroom—Tom’s side pristine, hers rumpled from fantasies. Stripping him nude, she revealed his 11-inch erection, throbbing harder than before. ‘I got something for us,’ she purred, pulling the dildo from the drawer. Jake’s eyes widened as she compared them side by side, her fingers stroking both. The perversion deepened: she sucked the real cock while fucking herself with the fake, then switched, making him watch her stretch around his likeness.
He couldn’t hold back. Grabbing her hips, Jake flipped her onto all fours, slamming his cock into her soaked pussy from behind. Monica cried out, pushing back, her ass jiggling with each thrust. ‘Harder, son—fuck your mommy like the slut she is.’ He obliged, pounding relentlessly, one hand yanking her black hair, the other spanking her curvy cheeks red. She reached for the dildo, sucking it clean of her own taste while he reamed her.
They escalated through the days. Mornings: quick blowjobs in the shower, her throat bulging around his length as water cascaded over her DD tits. Afternoons: anal training with the toy first, then his real cock breaching her tight ass, her screams muffled by pillows. Evenings: role-play from the porn she’d watched—her as the dominant mom, strapping on the dildo to peg him, his moans mixing pain and pleasure as she claimed every hole.
One night, mimicking her solo sessions, she rode Jake reverse cowgirl beside Tom’s empty pillow, the dildo in her mouth. ‘Imagine Dad walking in,’ she gasped, grinding down, her pussy lips gripping his shaft. The taboo thrill pushed them over: Jake flooded her with cum, thick ropes painting her insides, while she squirted around him, soaking the bed.
By week’s end, shame was a distant memory, replaced by raw, perverted addiction. Monica’s body bore marks—hickeys on her large areolas, bruises from rough grips—but she craved more. When Tom called, she’d answer mid-fuck, Jake’s cock buried deep, her voice steady as she lied. The business trip stretched on, and their depravity knew no bounds: water sports in the tub, her pissing on his cock before sucking it clean; fisting attempts with lube-slicked hands; even inviting the fantasy of others, though it remained just them.
Their rhythm was unbreakable now and tease build explode into filthy release. Monica’s hidden desires had unleashed a monster, and Jake was all too eager to feed it.
- The weight of their forbidden escapades pressed down on Monica like a suffocating blanket. Days after Tom’s business trip had dragged on, the house echoed with unspoken regrets. Jake’s eyes, once hungry, now carried shadows of confusion and shame. That morning in the kitchen, after another tense silence over breakfast, Monica set her coffee down with trembling hands. Her curvy body still ached from their last raw session—the way he’d pinned her against the counter, slamming his 11-inch cock into her pussy until she squirted across the tiles, his cum leaking down her thighs in thick, warm streams. But the memory of the adult bookstore, the dildo purchase that started it all, twisted the pleasure into something poisonous.
‘I can’t do this anymore, Jake,’ she whispered, her brown eyes meeting his. Her DD breasts heaved under her thin robe, nipples hardening despite the guilt churning in her gut. ‘We’re family. What we’ve done ... it’s wrong. We have to stop.’ He nodded, jaw tight, his bulge twitching in his shorts as if protesting. They agreed—no more touches, no more stolen fucks. Jake retreated to his room, door clicking shut like a finality. Monica stood there, pussy clenching emptily, the shame intensifying every pulse of need. How could she crave her own son so fiercely? The bookstore flashed in her mind: the silicone replica of his shaft, the public grind in her car that left her panties soaked. It fueled the fire she was trying to douse.
That night, alone in the master bedroom with Tom’s side of the bed cold and empty, Monica’s resolve cracked. Her fingers itched between her legs, but touching herself to thoughts of Jake felt like betrayal now. She grabbed the laptop, black hair falling over her shoulders as she typed ‘glory hole porn.’ Videos flooded the screen: anonymous women on their knees, mouths and pussies devouring stranger cocks through chipped walls, cum dripping from chins and cunts. One clip showed a curvy brunette like her, backing her ass against a hole, taking thrust after thrust until a load filled her, overflowing in creamy rivulets. Monica’s breath hitched; her hand slipped under her nightgown, rubbing her clit in slow circles as she watched. The anonymity thrilled her—no faces, no names, just raw need satisfied. She orgasm hard, fingers plunging deep, imagining faceless men using her holes while Jake’s image faded to the background.
The pattern took hold. Mornings blurred into furtive sessions: Jake avoiding her, Monica locking the bathroom door to stream more videos. Women fucking through glory holes became her obsession—sucking veiny shafts until they erupted down throats, bending over to get railed, pussies stretched and creampied by unknown dicks. She’d mimic them, the dildo suctioned to the sink, riding it reverse while the screen played. Her juices coated the toy, heavy tits slapping her chest with each bounce, but it wasn’t enough. The guilt over Jake sharpened her hunger; she needed real cocks, real loads to drown the shame.
By mid-week, the pull became unbearable. Tom’s calls were brief, his voice tinny through the phone as Monica lied about everything being fine. But nothing was. She craved the bookstore again, the underbelly of anonymity where she could lose herself. That evening, after Jake mumbled goodnight and vanished upstairs, she prepared. Standing before the mirror, she stripped naked, admiring her curvy reflection: wide hips, the soft swell of her belly leading to her shaved mound, already glistening. She chose black heels that clicked authoritatively, a short skirt that barely skimmed her ass cheeks—no panties, the air cool against her bare pussy lips. The thin fabric blouse came next, sheer enough to hint at her skin; she fastened only the middle button, cleavage spilling out above, the hem riding up to expose the undersides of her heavy round tits. As she moved, the fabric shifted, dark areolas peeking teasingly—full and wide, begging for attention.
Her heart pounding, she drove to Pleasures Unlimited, the neon sign welcoming her like an old lover. The parking lot was dim, a few cars scattered. Inside, the clerk—the same burly tattooed man—glanced up, eyes lingering on her exposed cleavage before nodding. Monica’s nipples poked through the blouse, pussy throbbing with each step in her heels. She browsed briefly, fingers trailing lubes and plugs, but her real destination was the back: the video booths, where the walls held secrets. The sign read ‘Private Viewing - $10,’ and she slipped coins in, entering a dim booth that smelled of stale cum and bleach.
The screen flickered to life with porn—two women sharing a glory hole, tongues lapping at a protruding cock. But Monica’s focus was the hole in the wall to her right, a ragged circle about cock-height. She waited; skirt hiked slightly, one hand cupping her breast through the blouse, thumb circling the areola that slipped free. Minutes ticked by; then, movement. A thick cock pushed through uncut, eight inches, veined and already leaking precum. Her mouth watered. Dropping to her knees on the sticky floor, heels digging into her ass, she leaned in, breath hot against the shaft.
She started slow, tongue flicking the head, tasting the salty bead. The man on the other side groaned faintly through the wall. Monica’s lips parted, sucking the tip in, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed. Her free hand dipped under her skirt, fingers sliding into her wet cunt, two knuckles deep. The blouse gaped, both heavy tits swaying, areolas fully exposed now as she worked. She took more—half the length down her throat, gagging softly, saliva dripping onto her cleavage. The cock twitched, thrusting shallowly; she met it, sucking harder, tongue swirling the underside.
But oral wasn’t enough. Standing, she turned, bracing one hand on the booth wall, the other hiking her skirt to bare her ass. Her pussy lips parted invitingly, juices trailing down her thigh. She backed up, guiding the cock to her entrance with her fingers. It nudged her folds, then plunged in—raw, no condom, stretching her walls. Monica bit her lip, pushing back to take it all, the intrusion filling the void Jake’s absence left. He fucked her steadily, hips slapping the wall, her curvy body jolting with each drive. Her tits bounced free from the blouse, nipples grazing the cool air, one areola catching on the rough wall as she leaned forward.
‘Yes, fuck me,’ she gasped, voice muffled by the partition. Her fingers rubbed her clit furiously, the raw intensity building. Memories of Jake’s creampies mixed with this stranger’s rhythm—the bookstore dildo, her son’s cum flooding her—but now it was anonymous release. The cock swelled inside her, pounding deeper, her pussy clenching greedily. She came first, walls spasming, juices squirting around the shaft as she ground back. He followed, grunting, hot spurts of cum painting her insides—load after load, creamy and thick, until it leaked out, dripping down her legs.
He pulled out, cock retreating through the hole. Monica stayed bent, panting, feeling the warmth ooze from her stretched pussy. But she wasn’t done. Another cock appeared almost immediately—longer this time, eight inches, curved upward. She dropped to suck it clean of traces, then mounted it reverse, heels planted wide. Her skirt bunched at her waist, blouse hanging open, tits fully on display as she rode. Up and down, her ass cheeks clapping against the wall, the new dick was spearing her cum-filled cunt. The mix of loads squelched with each descent, fueling her depravity.
She fucked three more that night—each creampie adding to the mess, her pussy overflowing, cum streaking her thighs and heels. One man came in her mouth after she begged through the wall, swallowing greedily while fingering herself to another orgasm. Her guilt buried over Jake under layers of filthy satisfaction. As she left, legs shaky, blouse askew with areolas still peeking, the clerk smirked. ‘Come back soon.’ Monica nodded, already planning her next visit, the lust reignited, pulling her deeper into the shadows.
- The days blurred into a haze of suppressed cravings for Monica, her body a live wire humming with unmet needs. The glory hole encounter had left her pussy sore and satisfied, cum stains washed away but the memory etched deep—strangers’ loads filling her, anonymous thrusts erasing the guilt over Jake. Yet the shame lingered like a shadow, twisting her desire into something sharper, more desperate. She couldn’t go back to Jake, not after their pact, but her holes ached for use. By Friday evening, with Tom still away on his endless trip, she decided to return to Pleasures Unlimited. This time, she’d push further, leave the booth door unlocked, and invite whatever walked in while the wall took the rest.
She dressed with deliberate sluttiness, mirroring her last visit to amp the thrill. Black heels strapped high on her calves, making her legs look endless. The short skirt hugged her wide hips, ending just below her ass cheeks—no panties, her bare pussy lips rubbing together with each step, already slick. The thin fabric blouse draped over her curvy frame, middle button only fastened; her DD breasts strained the material, deep cleavage on full display, and the hem teasing the undersides of her heavy round tits. As she bent to grab her keys, the fabric shifted, large dark areolas peeking out, nipples stiffening in the cool air. Black hair cascaded over her shoulders, brown eyes gleaming with wicked intent. She felt exposed, powerful, her body screaming for cock.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Jake paced his room, cock throbbing in his boxers. The agreement to stop fucking his mom had been torture—her curvy body haunting his dreams, the memory of her pussy gripping his 11-inch shaft, milking his cum deep inside. He’d jerked off nightly to thoughts of her tits bouncing as she rode him, but it wasn’t enough. That other night, he’d woken to an empty house, her car gone until late, returning with a flush he couldn’t place. Suspicion gnawed at him; he wanted her again, needed to bury his dick in her forbidden heat. When he heard the front door click shut downstairs, he rushed to the window. Her car peeled out, and he grabbed his keys, heart pounding. ‘Where the fuck is she going?’ He followed at a distance, headlights off until the neon glow of Pleasures Unlimited lit the lot. Shock hit him like a punch—his mom, pulling into the adult bookstore! The same place she’d bought that dildo mimicking his cock. He parked far back, slipped inside after her, the bell jingling softly.
The clerk barely glanced at Jake, too busy eyeing Monica’s retreating ass as she sauntered to the booths. Jake’s cock hardened instantly, confusion mixing with arousal. He watched her enter a booth, door clicking but not locking—he heard the subtle difference, the latch left open. Heart racing, he chose the adjacent one, walls thin enough to catch her heavy breaths. The hole between them gaped like an invitation. On her side, Monica dimmed the screen to a low porn hum—women getting double-teamed through holes—and waited, pussy dripping onto the floor. To lure, she extended two fingers through the opening, wiggling them teasingly, a silent beckon for cock.
Jake stared, breath shallow, as those fingers appeared inches from his zipper. His mom’s fingers—curved, nails painted red from last week’s touch. His 11-inch cock sprang free, veiny and thick, already leaking precum at the tip. He gripped the base, sliding it through the hole slowly, the head pushing past her digits. On the other side, Monica’s eyes widened a gasp escaping. The size, the girth—it felt exactly like Jake’s, the familiar weight brushing her skin. ‘Oh god, it’s him,’ she thought, pulse thundering, though doubt flickered. But the excitement overrode it; if it was her son, perfect. If not, still a massive dick to devour. She leaned in, tongue darting out to lick the underside from balls to tip, savoring the musky taste.
Her lips wrapped around the head, sucking greedily, cheeks hollowing as she took inch after inch down her throat. Jake groaned low, hands braced on the wall, thrusting gently into the wet heat of her mouth. It was his mom sucking him—taboo fire igniting, his cock swelling harder as her tongue swirled the ridge. Monica bobbed faster, saliva dripping down the shaft, her free hand cupping his heavy balls, rolling them while she deep throated half his length, gagging wetly. Her blouse gaped open, tits spilling out, large areolas fully exposed as she worked. Pussy clenching emptily, she fingered herself, three digits plunging into her soaked folds, juices squelching.
The booth door creaked open then—no knock, just a burly stranger stepping in, eyes locking on Monica’s exposed body. He was mid-40s, rough build cock already out and hard—nine inches of black cock, thick and curved. ‘Door’s open, slut?’ he grunted, not waiting for an answer. Monica’s eyes flicked up, mouth still stuffed with the massive cock through the wall, but she didn’t stop. The thrill spiked—fucked from both sides, anonymous and raw. She nodded, pulling off Jake’s cock with a pop, string of spit connecting her lips. ‘Use me,’ she whispered voice overwhelm with lust.
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