School is hard on me.
It's not the classes. My grades are fine. It's the people. It's all of my peers.
My mother is a professional wrestler and the current champion of the women's division. It's not all chair-throwing and headlocks in this sport, though. She competes in a specific match style that sexualizes everything, from the moves, the costumes, and even the entire experience of being a female wrestler.
In short, my mother is…the world-renowned "Cockgobbler", Monica Mckay. The things I've seen her do in the ring…it's sickening! Every match, she flaunts her body; those massive breasts swinging about, bouncing up and down as she drags her opponent to the ground. There's no shame. The cameras catch it all.
This is where the torment from my classmates comes in. Everyone knows who she is now, and they know how much it embarrasses me. When I walk through the halls, someone will inevitably comment on it, shoving her sexual exploits into my face.
No one takes it as far as Luke Sanders. He's a pale prick who watches my mother's career like a hawk. Even today, he slaps a thick magazine onto my lunch, splattering my food and filling my eyes with pictures of my mother's massive rack.
"Hey, Lawrence. Forget your lunch, you just have to see this. Your mother won ANOTHER championship. When will that cow ever quit."
Sure enough, there she is. So proud and full of herself, sitting atop some unconscious lady's face. There's a clear grinding motion going on between her thighs, oozing her juices into the poor loser's mouth. Propped on her massive chest is her champion belt. Even such a large trophy seems tiny next to the giant melons that it sits upon.
I'm almost glad Luke ruined my lunch when he did—I'm getting nauseous the longer I look at it.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Luke asks, oh so innocently.
There really is a child-like softness to the douche; as a junior to me, he hasn't had to deal with the worst of puberty yet, so his voice remains high-pitched and squeaky. It makes his smugness all the more annoying. I feel like I'm being talked down to by a potty-mouthed brat.
"Getting knots in your stomach? Cheer up, dude. I'm sure your slut of a mom has worse things sitting in her belly right now. Heck, I'd bet money she's getting an extra-large serving of cock cream tonight. I hear she likes it thick and nasty, so if you hear any gagging, don't worry."
U-Ugh! Why does he always have to put these kinds of things into my head?! I can see it so vividly too. Just because she's the champ doesn't mean that she's a total whore. She doesn't take just any man she can get her hands on, and besides, even if she was, she wouldn't be so crude about it.
"Oh, actually, I just remembered something," Luke suddenly perks up and gasps, looking genuinely shocked.
"H-Huh? What now?"
"Your mom won't have time for any of that tonight. She has a game! Shoot, I almost forgot. I think she's fighting some fat-assed lady named Lecky Bitch. Or, something like that." He scoffs and gazes at my mother's magazine. Oddly sentimental, he sighs, "I'm sure your mom will win. Cow or not, she's good at what she does. I wonder if I could make it…"
Satisfied with my humiliation and interested in witnessing the spectacle of my mother's next victory, he leaves me alone to finish my lunch. I sit back down, trying not to vomit, but failing miserably as soon as I see my mother's magazine again. I toss it away with the rest of my food.
I'm glad she's happy, really, but I don't want to see her like this anymore! No matter what she says or how she tries to justify it, it still feels disgusting to watch!
While I hate what she does, I do think my mom has a nice body… F-From a completely non-sexual perspective, of course. She's just "impressive". Her current sweater and jeans combo hide it, but she packs some serious muscles. It's just that all of the muscles are hidden by layers of soft wobbly fat.
Curvy to the bone, my mother is built to satisfy. Those boobs of hers are perfect—bigger than most people's heads. And I mean that literally. They're like watermelons. They're round, heavy, and so fleshy—the perfect breastfeeding pillow. It makes me jealous of baby me; he didn't know what prizes he had in his mouth, but I do. My mom's breasts were designed to feed hungry eyes and thirsty mouths.
And then there's her ass. Oh god, her ass is so big and soft. I admit, I still stare at her butt sometimes, b-but never with lust or desire in mind; instead, I was always mesmerized by its sheer size and weightiness. It seemed so unreal, so unbelievable. To think that someone could carry such a huge chunk of meat around every day without dying of exhaustion…
I guess that's why…her wrestling career is such a sting to me. When she was just my mom—MY mom—I was the only one who got to touch her soft, bronzed skin and enjoy her sweet taste. Now I've lost even that small privilege. Sure, I can watch her on TV and sit in on her game, but that doesn't compare to actually holding her close and feeling the warmth of her body against mine.
And now that she's a champion, I feel like her schedule has gotten busier. She's always busy these days. Always training, always competing, always winning…and always leaving me behind.
"And that's why I think you should come to my next game, sweetie." "W-What?! Mom, t-there's no way I'm going to that."
Of course, irony had to rear its ugly head at this moment. Just when I got back home and was ready to wash away all the dirty crap Luke put into my head, my mom stops me in the living room with this.
Sure, I want to spend more time with her, but not when she's out on the ring! I know her; she'll get me front row seats and everything, I'll hear all the cheers and jeers, all the catcalls and taunts. At the very least—assuming my mom and
Luke happen to be referring to the same match—she'd be wrestling another woman. I don't think I can bear watching her get all handsy on some dude.
"Sorry, Lawrence, but I'm not really giving you a choice. What mommy does means a lot to her. Having someone cheer me on really helps. Plus, that Lecky Bynch is no joke. She's got amateur endurance, but no one who gets into her grapples ever walks away from it unscathed."
"Aw, man" I groan, already dreading the thought, "Isn't me cheering you on from home enough."
That just makes her click her tongue in irritation and narrow her gaze. Sass aside, though, she knows what I mean. She knows I don't like watching her wrestle, and more than ever, it's starting to get on her nerves.
"I could sit you in front of an ultra-wide plasma-screen T.V. with candies and ice cream in hand, and you'd STILL refuse to watch me fight. That's why I need you to go in person. There's no flaking out from that when I can see you…"
"Lawrence Mckay, you're going and that's final. Honestly, I'm defending my championship here; what kind of son wouldn't support that?"
Of course, the guilt trip. Of course, the classic full-name-drop scold. I can't win against her. The only thing I can do is give up and agree to watch her compete. Maybe if I do that, she'll leave me alone about future games. I just hope things don't get too weird…
We pull up to the arena and park our car in the back corner, away from all the swarming fans. I still catch a couple glimpses of the crowd as I go. A few guys are wearing t-shirts emblazoned with my mom's face. Others sport shirts with various slogans about the Cockgobbler's upcoming bout.
She's a real star alright, and I can only grit my teeth and sigh. Everywhere I go, everyone stares at her like she's meat. People ask for autographs. Women approach her to get a friendly feel of her boobs, amazed by their size. Men try to talk her up, and they aren't shy about their intentions either.
And worst of all, she just lets it happen! She never raises a hand to anyone. She must be getting off on this attention, but that's not a comforting thought. I do want my mother to have fun in life—and besides, there's nothing wrong with being admired—but not when it's for something so repulsive… It makes me sick seeing how much she enjoys herself, and if I tell her that she shouldn't act like that, she'll think I'm hating on her success or being an unsupportive son.
Maybe one day she'll quit, and I'll have a regular mom again. That day is not today. My mom is out in her wrestling spandex, ready to rumble.
As I suspected, she gets me a front-row seat. Not an inch of her body is going to go unseen by my eyes, and I could only hope this Lecky doesn't do anything too gross during the show to sour that. Apparently, she's some wild, Irish redhead, and while her stark nakedness shows off her decent figure, her biggest appeal is obviously her ass.
Enlarged by silicon, gel, or maybe just plain old-fashioned fat, her butt looks amazing bouncing back and forth on the mat. It's perfectly shaped and plump enough to warrant a double-take from every guy watching.
The lack of eyes on her seems to shake my mom up.
The cheers give her strength, and if none are going towards her, her steam noticeably deflates.
Lecky Bynch plays fast and takes advantage of my mom's momentary lapse in focus to attack her from behind. She wraps her arms around my mom's waist and pulls her to the ground, causing a massive wave of boos to erupt from the audience. It quickly turns to horny uproar when those fake asscheeks slam on my mom's face. They're so big that they cover half of her face, smothering her like a pillow. My poor mom can hardly breathe!
Her struggles aren't helping either; every time she moves, it forces more of Lecky's butt-flesh down onto her nose and mouth. Lecky has no intention of letting go anytime soon. In fact, she seems to be enjoying herself far too much to give my mom even an inch. She just squeezes harder, and grinds her ass downwards faster, until finally… S-She cums?!
"Ooooh~ That's a good girlie! Get a good whiff of my ass while you can!" Her taunts are melting into quivering moans as Lecky's pussy juices flood down onto my mom's face. I immediately feel the need to vomit; my poor mom…
"MOMMY! PLEASE! GET HER OFF OF YOU NOW! YOU CAN DO IT!"
"Hm? Wh-Wha-" My mom is barely able to speak due to Lecky's tight hug around her face, but it's clear that she heard me. She starts squirming, and lost in her own orgasmic daze, Lecky is tossed off of her with ease. With a bit of a struggle, my mom returns the favor and has that Irish bimbo pinned.
Unable to break free from her superior strength, the win goes to the Cockgobbler by pinfall.
I am… Stunned. Even though Lecky lost, she managed to gush all over my mom's face, staining her pride but not enough to rip away victory. I am both incredibly disgusted and oddly proud. My cheering helped her make that decisive reversal. Words must really have an effect on her.
At least it's all over now…right?
"Lawrence! You came?! Oh, man! Your mom really took a mouthful, didn't she!"
I turn towards the voice only to watch a cup of soda come flying through the air and splash all over my face and shirt.
"Oops. Looks like you did, too," a familiar, skinny white boy says with a grin. Oh, god. It just had to be Lucas.
He weaves in between the fellow front-seat viewers and approaches me with a smug expression on his face. Is he…wearing mom's merch?
"Like it?" He straightens his t-shirt out, showing off a disturbingly well-done depiction of my mom bent over and spreading her cheeks. "Gross, right? I here she let a company take a photoshoot for these, and when they were done, paid for her in kindness with a couple fat loads on her face."
"W-Will you shut up! Leave me alone!" I yell at him, but even as I try to brush past, he blocks me and grabs my arm.
"You should thank me, actually. I paid good money for this seat. I'm the reason your mom can keep being such a—," he takes, an exaggerated breath and turns to my mom. She's still wiping the pussy juices from her face. "—DISGUSTING, SAGGY-TIT BITCH!"
His words echo loudly throughout the arena, and the entire place falls silent as my mom blushes bright red and whips around to glare at him.
"What did you call me?"
"A saggy tit bitch!" He repeats, with no lack of zeal and confidence in his tone. "Seriously, what kind of whore would be proud of that kind of body? I guess one that's old and senile like you! Get a real job, you hag!"
My mom is livid now. I'm sure she's had her fair share of hecklers over the years, but probably never someone so blatant about it. That cockiness—that self-righteousness—is pissing her off royally.
"How DARE you?" She yells at him, tearing at the wrestling ring's elastic ropes like a caged beast. "You think you can handle me, kid? Say that to my face and I'll show you exactly what these "saggy tits" can do to you! Come on, don't be shy~!"
W-Woah, she's really fired up. She's usually more composed than this.
Then again, it's not like I watch her games. Maybe she's always this intense during them? Either way, I don't like how this is going and doesn't seem like Lucas is backing down.
"That eager to get a taste? Are you that desperate, old lady? Sure! Let's see what your flabby body can do~"
The crowd is going berzerk; the security is quizzical but uncaring; I'm simply horrified.
Lucas is approaching my mom with slow steps, his eyes fixed on her curves. I kinda want to stop him, but I doubt my mom would want the help. So, instead, I stand there and watch, feeling an odd dread in my gut. Showing a considerable amount, she helps the scrawny boy up and into his demise.
Still, there's not a bit of fear on Lucas's face. Despite feeling how easily my mom could manhandle him with that one lift, he still looks ready to pounce on her at any moment.
I'm confident in my mother's ability to kick his ass until the moment I see Lucas drop into a low, wide stance. It's very articulate and done with no less practiced ease than my mom when she drops into her own.
There's no way. A little guy like Lucas actually knows how to wrestle?
Said little guy is the one to make the first move. He gropes more than he actually grabs, and it pisses me off every time he tries.
My mom will go for a spirited lunge, ready to face-off, but not him—it's all a game. He stays loose and ready to dodge or block her moves. His speed is astounding, and so is his timing. No matter where she goes, he has an answer for it, and it often ends with her ass or tits being smothered by his bare hands.
Every touch he adds to his belt puts a nail in my heart. He shouldn't be able to touch her like that; I don't even want to see his grubby hands near her.
But he's just too fast. There's no way someone as small as him could pin her, sure, but he keeps on touching, spanking, and grabbing at her. And despite all the lechery in his moves, she doesn't seem too mad about it. She just takes it, as if this is nothing but a game to her. S-she's even smiling, taking every grope with a sigh or a coo.
Why isn't she fighting back and getting angry?
And why does he keep looking at me?
It's no use. There's no way I can stop them from going further. Lucas keeps touching her, and she's accepting it. Is she enjoying it?
N-No. My mom is not that kind of woman.
She's just waiting for the right moment to strike. That's the only explanation. Lucas's gradual closeness—and encircling hands around her hips—is all part of her plan. I begin to doubt myself when he manages to pull out her tits from the confines of her top, but it's nothing more than a feint.
This is all…a-a trick, right?
No. H-His mouth. It's so close to her chest. And her dark brown nipples are so thick and hard—her arousal is real, and so is his.
"…D-Don't you dare," I whisper into my sleeve, unable to contain my fear any longer. "You better not be…"
Mouth open, massive breast in his hand like a prized trophy, and eyes staring into mine, Lucas does what a baby does best…and starts to suckle. There's a slow, satisfied bob to his head that suggests he's enjoying his meal. A treat that I haven't been able to taste in too many years. I can still feel it on my tongue.
The softness of her nip, the weight of her breasts, and her gentle aroma that rises from her cleavage—it's all his now. He owns it, right in front of me. All I can do is watch and shiver. And when he licks his lips and switches to the other,
I shudder with anger. My mother's face is as red as a beet. She's shaking, but I know it's not out of fury.
I want to plead with her to do something, but I'm frozen. The only thing I can do is stand there, and watch Lucas take what rightfully belongs to me as her son.
"Well, well, well! Look at this munchkin—thinking he's some kind of wrestler?"
My mom's voice is noticeably tense, but hostility is nowhere to be found in her eyes. They're so warm and full of affection. And just when I think I've seen the last of it, she cups Lucas's cheek, admiring his consistent suction around her teat, and ignoring my red-faced rage.
"But you're not winning this match! The Cockgobbler loses to no one—not even cute little hecklers like you get freebies!"
Lucas pops off her breast with a loud and sarcastic, "Hmmm?" They're both putting on a show for the crowd, and just for today, I just had to be in it. The body that I've silently appreciated my whole life, the chest that I've yearned to lick again, is being milked by this brat for all the world to see. It's all a game to them.
"C'mon, Cockgobbler—show me some mercy. Maybe we can end in a truce? I've learned my lesson I swear~."
Now it's her turn to let a drawn-out, "Hmmm," and pat the back of Lucas's head. There's such an inappropriate gentleness to her every move now and that pale bastard is her partner in it all. Every act of maternal care is mirrored by his ceaseless snark.
A brief ray of hope reaches me when my mom pushes him away from her body and to the mat. I imagine her reeling a foot back and shattering his pelvis right then and there, showing him what happens when he crosses a strong woman's pride.
I look for it in her eyes—for that hate.
I want to see just a flicker of disgust in her. It would make up for all the things she let him do and the terrible things he's said to me at school. I want to believe that she's not the slutty bitch that everyone says she is. But my mother—my strong, proud, and loving mother—looks so much more alive than ever before. Her eyes are alight with life, and her cheeks are flushed from his sucking. She looks…happy. So very happy. She's enjoying this. My mom is…enjoying Lucas's touch.
My heart breaks into a million pieces.
The match isn't over, but it feels like I'm the one who has lost.
I see it now—all this wrestling was never about the sport or a battle. This was just my mom trying to find a way to enjoy her life in a way that's freeing and intimate, and now, she's found her one. The moment I try to deny it is the moment she peels back the crotch of unitard.
Now, that's something I've never been able to truly see. Not in this light. No, this was a privilege extended to Lucas that not even I could grasp.
Her pussy. My mom's pussy. Her most private part is so red and swollen, drenched in arousal and filling the ring—and my front seat to the spectacle—with its unmistakable musk. Sweet and sharp on the tongue, the fragrance washes over the room, bringing it to a boil.
The crowd gasps and cheers. Even Lucas looks taken aback by the sight of my mom's hairy mound. "Accept your defeat with grace. Take it out."
She points to his crotch and its rising bulge.
Lucas gives a cute, boyish shrug, and drops his pants. His cock is an unblemished thing—decently long but especially thick, it juts out proudly from his groin like a young soldier ready for battle. I can see it twitch when she stares at it, and it's clear that my mother wants nothing more than to wrap her lips around it.
"S-Stop," I whisper, "Please."
"Oh, please don't hurt me, Cockgobbler!" Lucas feigns a cry, overshadowing my frail voice. "I was just having fun! You're body's not gross at all!"
"It's too late, brat!" She drops into a squat over his cock and cheers. "Now, let's get this show on the road, shall we? Your turn to taste the Cockgobbler!"
T-They can't be serious…. They're really going through with this? Why with him of all people?! All the insults he's flung at her a-and now this?! He's going to fuck her? With me right here watching? I'm supposed to just sit here and watch this happen? Watch him stick his filthy dick inside of her?
"H-Hey—" I stammer, but the words won't come out of my throat. "I'm warning you—she's not yours! Stop this!"
Ready to ride, the Cockgobbler falls on top of him, squishing his face between her rack. She makes herself comfortable against Lucas's body—even letting him hold her steady while she guides his cock between her thighs. There's no hesitation in either their actions or movements; they're two professionals in tune with each other, perfectly syncing up with one another's rhythms and wants.
"Oh, no! The Cockgobbler is going to pound poor little me into the ground! Someone call the referee!"
My mom laughs at Lucas's excessive showmanship. Once again, there's nothing but delight in her eyes as she slides down onto his shaft. "I thought you were stronger than that, brat! Don't worry—you'll be fine~." She kisses the side of his neck while guiding his shaft further onward. "I promise to take it easy on ya'…so that you can last longer."
In a jealous fit, I stand up from my chair, wanting nothing more than to tear this perverted bastard apart in front of her. I can't watch this perverted idiot violate my mother any longer. It's disgusting! It hurts too much!
So why do my feet remain glued to the ground as I witness my mother slowly impale herself onto his member? How can I bear seeing my mom being fucked by this maniac? How can I possibly stay put? I can't—I have to leave—but I can't move. I can't breathe or speak. I can't even scream. Everything seems to be happening so fast, yet everything is moving at a sluggish pace, burning every wet throbbing detail of their forming connection.
The glans of his cock disappear into my mother's depths with too much ease. I can see her body flinch and tighten, but that doesn't stop the buttery smooth descent. I almost wish it was painful for her. Anything but that look of pure ecstasy—that smile of satisfaction—that should be directed towards me, if anyone.
My regrets and curses do me no good, as always. The bounce of Lucas's balls against her ass makes my own pulse tremble. I ache with jealousy. Even as her tempo increases and every square ton of bronzed butt is pulverizing him, he never breaks eye contact with mine. He stares straight through to my soul; right past the tears welling up in my eyes.
I'm not sure how long she takes to fuck his dick into submission, nor am I aware of the time spent in between the first stroke of penetration and the last one. But when the moment comes, all I feel is a dull pain at the base of my skull and the cheering crowd in my ears.
I could tell Lucas was close when he opened his mouth and presented his flopping tongue, aching for a saucy smooch before he blew his load. Kisses aren't part of the dominating persona. I can tell by the flush in her cheeks that my mom wanted a kiss to fulfill her heart as a woman—not for some perverted showmanship. And just like that, her lips are on his instead of mine—her hand stroking his hair.
Lucas thanks her by rolling her thick nipples in between his fingers; there are no doubt plenty of nerves to squish and pinch, so, in no time, she too gets ready to cum. I just can feel it. That unmistakable quiver running down her spine and her thighs tightening around him—it's coming soon. The anticipation is almost as bad as the real explosion.
Very much so almost.
There's a stark difference between watching Lucas's shaft thicken up with an approaching potshot of jizz and actually witnessing him unload into my mother's womb. Not only does he blast it deeply—fully coating her cervix with his cream—but my mother feels entitled to grind her ass into his semen geyser right in front of me.
He inseminates her one volley at a time. If there's a lurch in his hips then surely another thick gush of his seed just got slammed into her womb. Even if Lucas didn't want to absolutely slather my mom's folds in jizz, she makes him. Her hips just keep gyrating. Her bubble butt keeps bouncing. All he has to do is lay there like a good boy and suck on her tits, matching my tearful gaze with a lust-struck one of his own.
Cock suffocated in pussy, face smothered by massive breasts, and busting a nut in my mom's belly—Lucas is in a heaven I can only dream of, and even when the sperm surge ends, she doesn't stop bouncing.
I can bear to see one last pulse of Lucas's balls against mom's ass before I finally give in to the pressure and force myself to move. I don't care where; as long as it's not here. I can't watch him use her look like this. To have everything my bullies say about my mom's sluttiness confirmed by one of the worst of them makes me want to vomit. It's too much, too fast.
I wander around the venue for about an hour. The aftermath of what those two did is already making its ripples. Pictures and videos float across social media like wildfire.
My mom was already due for another popularity rush for beating that Lecky lady. Her being groped, suckled on, and creampied by some "random" lucky heckler is just adding to the buzz. But this time, it's not just mom being discussed on the internet. It's about mom getting pounded by this random jerk. By Lucas.
I see his cock again and again. Every angle conceivable catches the moment he lets his splooge loose and marinates the Cockgobbler's womb.
I-I don't even want to think of this anymore.
Mom should be done with him by now. She's probably in her personal locker room cleaning up and…s-scooping out his jizz.
So, I go searching for her in a defeated shuffle. There are many hallways, but only one door marked with her name—the one I need to open if I'm going to face her, talk things through, maybe even make peace. I know she won't be sorry. She enjoyed every minute of Lucas's embrace. I just need someone to talk to. Anyone at all.
I knock and wait. No response comes. Is she really still out there riding him?
Then, after a few seconds more, the knob turns, and the door swings wide. A pungent cloud greets me as soon as it does so; not because the air is foul or stale—just the opposite actually; the air is positively charged with arousal.
"Oh. Lawrence. Did you…enjoy the show?"
There is no kindness in Mom's voice or eyes; only an emptiness that tells me how far away from me she has drifted right now. And worse yet—that distance seems to be widening with each passing second as a pale white brat paws away at her chunky asscheeks. That grin. The wicked look in his eye. The dirty smirk on his lips.
He stands side-by-side with my mom, stroking her skin like it was made of some fine china instead of being drenched with semen and sweat. "You know, your momma isn't too abrasive outside the ring," he coos, "but I guess it's alright. I deserve to be on top after the ride she gave in that ring. I thought I was gonna get smashed!"
"Oh, please~ I'm not that heavy. Still, you handled yourself very well. Your stamina is pretty impressive." Her honeyed words rot my ears. That radiating affection is also physical—since they've opened the door, she has a hand caressing the smaller boy's hairless chest and arms.
"M-Mom," I whimper in a frail voice that fails to persuade her sense of reason.
"What? Don't be so shy, Lawrence." She places a kiss on Lucas's head and looks back at me. "I'm busy right now, as you can see, and as you should know, I'm no quitter. So if you have something you want to say or discuss, then spit it out already."
I take an anxious step forward, trying to find the willpower to move another one without breathing the noxious stench of lust. It's not easy—Lucas has his arms wrapped around my mother, squeezing her body against him. He's just taunting me with this…this obscene display. This perverted act. But he hasn't even finished what he started—not yet. His cock still is hard and grinding on her thighs.
There's a fullness to his balls that wants to be let out. Every second I spend wasting their time is a second he could be pounding a new baby into her womb.
Mother is faring no better. She's a frazzled mess of cum stains, bite marks, and hickeys. No amount of crying is going to tear her away from Lucas's embrace; in fact, the longer they stand together like that, the more desperate I become for them to finish so I don't have to watch anymore.
"W-Who's gonna drive me home?"
I hope at least that inspires some maternal instincts.
"Oh, right. Hmm… Well, you could wait outside for a few hours. Lucas and I SHOULD be done by then. If you don't feel like waiting, then you'll just have to catch a cab. Okay? Are we clear now? What do you say?" Anxious for my decision already, my mom leans down and kisses him again before finally looking back at me with those haughty dark eyes. "I'm waiting, Lawrence~"
I can only look away, dejected.
It's official. Nothing I say can bring the mother I need back. She's… Lucas's woman, now.
I feel like I mumble some response or another, but it doesn't matter. Anything I say would give me the same door slamming in my face. In no time at all, I can hear them going at it. I've barely taken two steps away from the room and their slapping and moaning are already echoing through the halls.
No matter how far I walk, I not only hear it, but I see it. Like dancing clouds in mind, the shape of mom is so clear. Her shamelessness rings true even in my visions. By the end of the night, Lucas's will no doubt have came a dozen times over. Maybe inside, maybe outside—either way, I can feel him spoiling her beauty with his salty seed. Worst of all, I know mother would do nothing but open wide and receive it. Maybe even give his goo a light gargle before swallowing.
Call it crude, but I no longer had any faith in her.
My mother had proven herself to be a fun-loving slut, and after today, she'd be Lucas's slut only.....