CHAPTER 3I didn't have a sense that I had taken so much care with my personal grooming to receive my mother that evening-night. It didn't make sense because when a son meets his parent only worries about being well-groomed and wearing ironed clothes, as these are the small details that all our mothers tend to criticize. However, I made sure to get ready just like I used to when receiving a real prostitute. I carefully trimmed my detailed beard on my cheeks and chin so that the hairs would be pointed and when I would eat her pussy with my mouth, the contact of the vulva and pubic area with my beard would cause a very hot tingling sensation that would make them shudder with pleasure and get wet like whores. I cut off my public hair with fine scissors and completely depilated my testicles so that my penis would look much bigger than it already was, and my balls would look much more appetizing and big to the eye. Finally, I put on the white boxer shorts that accentuated my package and perfumed my neck with my most expensive fragrance so that the aroma of male follador would awaken the sexual instinct of the slut in question. What a late realization, with great shame, that on this visit I was not going to receive a slut but my own mother, who would pretend to be a prostitute to fulfill the only requirement for becoming the type of person with whom I could have physical contact outside the military barracks without being sanctioned. When I saw myself in the mirror, well-groomed and handsome like an alpha male impregnator, I glimpsed a young man at his best age as a stud, anxious for sex, with extremely strong sexual needs that, however, that night would not be able to satisfy in reality, although everyone in that barracks thought otherwise. -Damn, how hot I am. Every time I remembered a biweekly date with my favorite prostitute, Astrid, my body naturally preparing itself for that moment. All day while I was doing my military exercises, my gland would drip, the amount of boiling blood produced by my body's arteries accumulating in my veins and my penis getting hard at any opportunity, thinking about booties, tits, vaginas, moans, and all those other dirty things that make men horny. Plus, all day I could almost imagine how my testicles weren't stopping from producing sperm.
--Shit, Erik, breathe, relax, remember this night won't bring a real slut... but Akira, your mother... Uff, God!
And despite programming (or at least trying) the cock doesn't understand reasons, and your desire to fuck doesn't stop even when you repeat over and over that the woman who will sleep with you tonight... isn't a pussy available for eating, but rather a forbidden fruit you can't access, nor do you have the right to desire it for matters of blood, ethics, repugnance, sin, and above all, moral prejudices.
On the other hand, never expect that the day will come when your friends will label your mother as a prostitute, seeing her as a semen bag, and while they wait with curiosity in the barracks' corridors, only thinking about her as a slut, morbidly fantasizing and dedicating their best mental wanks to her.
And yet, that was my fate on that June night when I was told that a slut named Akira was entering the barracks, looking for me.
--Shit, mom... you've arrived, what am I supposed to do now?
I remember I was waiting for her at my room door when I received the warning, and several of my colleagues, including the jerk Alex, were there, bordering the path without disguise with a lascivious attitude waiting for her to pass.
And I was burning with rage. It was Extremely uncomfortable was what all that bunch of guys made me feel with such an act. It seemed to me a terribly coarse and vile attitude they were having. The worst is that I couldn't do anything to reprimand them since it was almost a normalized act for all the boys to put ourselves in the hallways to look forward to the new whores arriving at the barracks.
—Where's that slut that isn't showing up? —said Alex desperate.
—She won't be late, —said one of his colleagues—, didn't you hear that Akira was already announced?
—Well, peel your eyes, guys —said another one of them, rubbing himself—, because the foxy has to show up any minute now.
My nerves were crowding my mind. How the hell could they talk about my mother like that without even knowing her? How does a son react to situations like this without raising any suspicions at all? My rage wouldn't give me a break. It was almost uncontrollable and voracious.
I was so angry I didn't even notice when some high heels started echoing down the hallway, so everyone began looking towards that spot.
—That's the slut —someone warned—, listen to her heels as she walks, that must be the slut . What a fox has been desired!
And everyone laughed while my face froze in the atmosphere.
—Take off that funeral face, dear Erik the impaler —Alex told me—, anyone would say that the one arriving is your mother and not your slut .
I had to face new laughter again while my legs trembled.
—Stop saying stupid things, guy, because tonight you'll hear what's good, knowing how a real man screws —I thought of telling the one who just became my new fervent enemy, even though I knew nothing he promised would really happen, for obvious reasons.
—Well, that's what I'm waiting for, male —the idiot replied as a challenge—, I'll be on the lookout from the moans and the scandalous sounds of your bed's springs. The present ones took our tacit agreement as just and when the silhouette of my supposed prostitute appeared at the end of the hallway, I couldn't breathe anymore. —Damn— I muttered. My chest inflamed. My heart beat strongly. The blood descended to my heels. And... I swear by God that I don't know why at the same time as all this happened, trapped in anxiety and fear, my cock got hard. It was a strange, instantaneous, sinful, insane, and... quite prolonged erection that burst forth in my military pants, which fortunately none of the present ones noticed.
It was really an erection with no reason to be, mainly because the context of what was happening was noble at the same time as it was described as sordid. Noble because it was the reunion between a mother and her son who hadn't seen each other in a long time. Sordid because the circumstances under which all this happened were extremely humiliating and brutal. My mother was presenting herself at the military barracks like a prostitute coming to fornicate with me.
And if something in all this could be morbid, it's that none of my comrades had the slightest idea that that woman was my progenitor.
—Damn... —someone said when that woman with abundant black hair walking with affected cadence on the hallway tiles began to solidify her figure—, but what a slut looks...
When one remembers their mother by closing their eyes, they do so innocently, weighing heavily upon her in a very universal way, where always stands out her sweetness, harmony, maternal aspect, terse voice, simplicity, and even her spirit as a homemaker who takes care of you and loves you.
I say the above so that it can be better understood the impact I had when looking at my mother dressed in a black leather mini-skirt that clung to her fat thighs and obese ass like a glove. Her legs, calves, and shins... They were seductively wrapped in a pair of red stockings attributable to professional prostitutes, making her look vulgar and sexy, every time her femininity was accentuated. Their turned legs and scandalous hips looked much more attractive and sexy due to the height of their black platform heels as they advanced slowly.
The polyester blouse with zebra stripe print would have been perfectly decent (since it covered her up to her shoulders and had a long sleeve), if not for the prominent horizontal transparency from the neckline, where her insinuating and rounded breasts stood out, looking immense with a tight cleavage.
As is natural, all the bunch of guys started launching flattery, laughter, vulgar gestures, lustful looks, and my mother began to pale due to never having been so exposed to such dirty harassment. For my part, I barely could move an inch without knowing how to react. And yet, despite all the discomfort, she continued walking, upright, elegantly passing through the hallway that seemed longer than it actually was.
Take a step forward and she finally looked at me. Her oriental eyes became bright, and from afar, it seemed relieved to see me while struggling to act naturally, even if she was unable to know how a mother who pretends to be a prostitute visiting her son should behave.
Menudo culazo you have, foxy, I heard Francisco Magallanes say, with such nalgotas, I'd let you sit on my face and suffocate me.
Joder with the breasts that hang from this little one, Rodrigo Franco sang out, with mine measuring over 20cm, these melons won't even come out above her breasts if she does a Russian on me.
It's Asian, foxy, so I like these bitches, Ismael Hernández murmured. I see her and want to do everything that would happen in the most perverted hentai. what I would have seen.
I took another step forward, tolerating with rage each comment while breathing deeply, with the need to rescue my mother from all those disrespectful jerks. But my problem was that any attempt to defend her would become extremely rare, and the worst is that if they discovered our trap, not only would my professional dreams be frustrated (which at this point was already a minor thing) but my progenitor would end up in front of everyone like a vile slut. It would be humiliating and even turbid for my colleagues to think that I could really screw her.
And while I thought about that, a vile atrocity occurred. I didn't know who it was, but as she passed by, visibly scared, I heard the sound of someone slapping someone's ass, and the terrible Plazzz echoed terribly in the hallway.
She recoiled, and my air was cut off. When Akira jumped out of sheer fright at that tremendous butt-slapping, her enormous breasts bounced in her transparent neckline, agitating like waves on the beach, and all the bunch of jerks mouthed a prolonged wooooow that left me perplexed and frozen, facing her evident humiliation.
My progenitor advanced more quickly, with a slight smile trying to show she was serene, even if I knew with pity and horror that she was horrified. And despite that horror, fear, fright, and shame, my stiff penis didn't just grow a little bigger. And I couldn't help but be impressed by the way she was dressed, with her fat legs vibrating with every step, her fatty breasts spilling over her transparent neckline, and those extremely high heels that undoubtedly stylized her paradisal ass, which didn't stop wobbling with every step she took.
—What a prostitute —Alex said finally licking his lips as my mother passed by him—. But what a ridiculous cow this big golfa is dressed like a zebra.—
The look of horror and amazement that my progenitor left when I heard that. I had to rush now and find her on the way to rescue her so she could regain that security she had lost.
It's just that never in her whole life had she received a treatment like that. In fact, no one (not even my father, at least in public) had ever given her a slap or referred to her as golfa. And then we finally faced each other. We looked at each other suddenly, my heart racing very strongly and not knowing what the hell to do I extended my arm to grab her two hands to hold them with me and infuse security.
And in front of everyone, discomfort arose again, especially when certain phrases jumped out into the air and made us feel vulnerable.
—Stick it to him, asshole — someone said.
—You don't kiss whores — another one said — but that thick-lipped, slutty cebra deserves a good tongue-lashing.
And before all prediction, with tremendous horror, everyone started shouting:
—Kiss! Kiss!
—Stick it to him!
—Kiss her!
—Screw her ass!
—Come on, asshole, we want to see you kiss and screw her ass!
I was stunned, with my chest frozen and my mother watching me with an expression of amazement and half-closed eyes that made me wonder about this whole situation. How could I have made her suffer like that? How did I come up with such a indecent plan that was degrading her so much? We hadn't even said hello yet, and already everyone was demanding we kiss and grope in public, right in front of them, as if we were puppets destined for their entertainment.
How the hell were we supposed to kiss on the mouth, with tongues included? How was I going to grab my own... progenitor's ass? Those guys were crazy!
And yet, the pressures persisted:
—Kiss! Kiss!
—Grab her slapper thighs and...
—Stick it in her ... Mouth-breathing nipple to the golf cebra! And I knew that all our efforts we had made by setting up this whole show in our attempt to see each other without me being sanctioned would go to hell just at this precise moment, among other things, because I respected my mother as someone sacred and for nothing in the world would I make her suffer such terrible moral harm. Because it would be impossible for me to make her go through this embarrassment in public. Because it would be impossible for me to make her feel so uncomfortable making something so degrading, humiliating, and dirty like letting herself be kissed and screwed by her own son just to avoid suspicions before these idiots.
—Give her a tongue!
—Kiss her!
—Squeeze her ass!
My eyes fixed on my mother's, which were burning with fear or I don't know what, didn't blink. My hands pressing hers, which were sweating with nerves, tensed up. And I didn't know how to react to the pressures and those shouts that didn't stop suffocating us.
—Calm down—gestured my mouth while she blinked.
I told myself that the only thing I had to do was pull her in and drag her into the room to avoid being victims of such uncomfortable attacks: but then... just when I was about to execute my plan as planned, without expecting it or seeing it coming, something truly chaotic, turbid, and surprising happened that left me stunned and frozen for seconds.
Everyone shouted sonorous wwwoooowww Damn That's how you do it! Get hot the foxy What a fag... with the act my mom did, and I remained petrified, with my cock stiff, while she suddenly hung herself from my neck, her mouth biting my ear as she whispered:
—Squeeze my ass, Erik, pretend to kiss me and let's get this over with...
I barely took four milliseconds to absorb what she was telling me. Everything worsened in my tense body when I suddenly felt her heavy, hard, and fat breasts sinking into my pectorals... while my throat dried up and my Palpitations were becoming stronger. Was what my mother had told me real or just a product of the heat and the impulse of the moment? Was what I was feeling in my chest, two immense masses of flesh pressing against me, real? Because the only thing I was sure of and that was real was my fat cock getting hard and pulsing against my progenitor's belly.
--But... --I wanted to dissent, with my heart racing, with that terrible need to know exactly what this meant and how I would have the courage to do it without feeling guilty...
I barely managed to pronounce a word when my breath escaped me. Everything was happening quite quickly. In no time at all, my progenitor took her hands to my long fingers and moved them slowly so that my hands soon came unstuck from my sides and lifted into the air before being transferred to her obese thighs, specifically to her corpulent calves, where I automatically extended my fingers until I felt the roughness of the seams on her black stockings, in whose asymmetrical holes I could find the warmth of her skin.
--Hhooohh --a moan ripped from my soul at the same time as my mother dragged her chubby, soft lips from my left ear, where she had whispered Squeeze my ass, Erik, pretend you're kissing me and let's get this over with... until they stuck to my profiled jaw, sliding slowly down to my chin.
--N...o --I tried to rescue her from sin, from her own remorse, from my own desires.
--Shhh --her response was a blunt one, as I felt the warmth of her breath right next to my mouth.
And I felt myself disintegrating under the terrible discomfort of what was happening. I couldn't believe what my mother was doing. Everything seemed like a product of a terrible nightmare. Nightmare for her, because for me everything was truly incredible and even fantastical, as if taken from my darkest and most perverse fantasies.
But everything was real. The chill of her lips on my chin, her cold hands on my neck, her enormous breasts pressed against my chest, and, above all, my huge cock thrusting into her stomach was more than real.
And then my hands extended to her thick thighs, driven by hers that generously indicated the route to destiny. My fingers responded abruptly to the call of my own instincts, and there, in front of everyone, I could feel for the first time in my life the fatness of her buttocks being squeezed by my fingers as they sank into her abundant flesh, every time her lips touched mine in a timid kiss that didn't go further, since neither of us had the courage to open our mouths and pull out our tongues.
And my cock pulsed. And my body suffered an explosive combustion so intense that I thought it would burn with morbid excitement at any moment.
***
When we entered the room and I locked the door, I couldn't even look at my mother.
I... lo... si...ento, ma...
Shhh, nothing's wrong, my love, I heard her maternal voice for the first time.
As I turned to her, I could feel her more tranquil, but my hands were still burning. My fingers still felt that exquisite and perverse sensation of hardness and fatness of her enormous buttocks that had tried to absorb my entire hand. Her breath was still in my mouth and my heart continued to pound wildly while my cock pulsed between my legs.
She was standing in the center of the room, observing everything, which wasn't more than a small alcove with a bathroom at the back, a small refrigerator on the right side, placed above a small table with two chairs, and an individual bed on the opposite side.
Excuse me for a moment, mother... I'll be right back, I said nervously, when she, conscious or not... Inconscientemente, he looked at me suddenly, lowering his gaze to my pants and (I'm sure) noticing with a start my tremendous bulge. And I ran off to the bathroom, where I locked myself in for a good while, wetting my face and adjusting my penis inside my pants, whose stiffness didn't quite subside, cursing the fact that this was happening to me right then. That was the bad thing about having such a big one and not being able to tame it.
—Are you okay, son?—my mother yelled from outside.
—Shhhh!—I warned her with horror.
And she, panting, understood that the panel walls dividing one room from another weren't reliable for keeping sounds and having privacy.
—Oops... I'm sorry,—she apologized, looking apologetic, and then asked again—... are you okay, Erik...
—I'm fine, Akira,—I called her by name to avoid any awkwardness,—now I'll be right there, while I look for a comfortable spot for you to rest.
Already a bit more serene, with my penis at rest, I took a deep breath and found myself with my mother, who was sitting in one of the chairs at my small table.
She smiled at me with tear-filled eyes, I approached her, got down on my knees, and hugged her, and she hugged me back, and despite feeling her enormous breasts pressing against my chest once again, this time it was a normal hug, without morbidness or lust, just the true reunion between a mother and her son.
—How I missed you, my life,—she whispered in a low voice, making my body shiver with the beautiful, innocent tone of her voice.
—I missed you too, mom,—I said in her ear, clinging to her body.
By instinct, I pressed my bearded cheek against hers, flat and smooth, and we rubbed against each other, like a slut son does with his cat mother.
The warmth of my cheek against hers made our skin prickle. For her, it was the tickle of my beard, and for me, it was the softness of her skin. Personally, it provoked new shivers in me that increased as she stroked my broad back with her fingertips. sus nails.
We separated for a moment when that breath of hers that still lingered in my mouth continued to haunt me, being a permanent reminder that she had kissed me on the lips, not too lustful but also not too innocent.
—My little bearded one—she said smiling, stroking my chin with the tip of her nails—
I can't believe you're already all man, my heaven.
—In contrast, you... still remain the same woman.
—Older...
—More beautiful and good—she said without wanting to.
I regretted my comment when I saw her turn red and slightly embarrassed. Then she calmed down. And I remained on my knees in front of her, like when I was a child, while she continued to caress my face, playing with the hairs of my beard and occasionally rubbing my head.
—I feel what you went through out there... with those guys—she apologized, seeing me from the corner of her eye those enormous breasts that shone beneath her transparent blouse.
—Quite the opposite, my little lead soldier, forgive me for making you... touch me, my buttocks and... for scaring you... when... I gave you a kiss.
—What? No, no... madr... Akira (I have to get used to calling you Akira before it slips out mom in front of someone else). Ah, I was saying that you don't have anything to apologize for. Rather, I feel very ashamed for having... sunk my fingers... into your... buttocks. I hope I didn't hurt you. And as for the kiss... I took it as what it is... a sign of affection from a mother to her son.
—That's it, my heaven... let's take it as if it was a sign of affection. Although I confess that I also felt very strange when you squeezed my buttocks but... in the end... as you say, everything was without malice, without any bad intention, only due to the circumstances that forced us to act this way.
And if it had been without malice and without any bad intention, why did my cock stop working? I forced myself to think that it was a natural reaction to the excitement From the moment. After all... cocks don't know about kinship.
—But look, Erik, that's already passed, and everything is fine. We didn't turn to stone like those biblical passages where those were the consequences of committing such sins.
Both of us laughed and Mom pinched my cheeks maternally, brought her beautiful mouth close to my face, and started kissing me. Oh God! In that position, her breasts flattened against each other and became much larger. Between blinks I saw how her leather skirt was rising a bit and how her thick thighs were starting to give in to the mesh of her stockings.
—As for your outfit... mother...
When I mentioned it, she sat back up again, leaning on the chair.
—Do you think I'm coming too... vulgar?
I knew I would hurt her honor if I said yes, so I had to change my argument.
—No... no... I was going to tell you that... you look beautiful... although... well... you must be cold.
—Ah, no, everything's fine. Although it cost me horrors to have to leave the house like that without raising suspicions. Luckily none of the neighbors saw me when the taxi passed by.
—That's good. But tell me... mother, what exactly happened with Dad?
And she told me just what I had intuited. The old man had fallen for the new accountant he hired to handle his books and over time he ended up leaving my mom. She would occasionally sob while telling me, so we changed the subject and started talking about me, my career, my projects, and she also brought me up to speed on family matters.
When I least expected it, almost 50 minutes had passed since we'd been talking and I was still on my knees, a bit numb. I struggled to get up and said:
—Oh God, Mom... Akira, you haven't offered me anything. What do you want? I have soda, beer, and some pizzas in the fridge.
—Don't worry about it, my sky. For now, I just want water.
—Uta... will you believe that is The only thing that didn't prevent it? But wait, I'm going to the barracks' kitchen for some bottles.
--No, no, heaven, it's not necessary. With soda it's fine.
--No, mom, how do you think. Let me go get some water bottles, because I know you prefer it. Five minutes, I won't take long, if you want to lie down on the bed so you can rest, you can do that.
--Okay, son, I'm going to lie down for a moment to stretch my legs.
--Excellent. I'll be back. Don't open the door to anyone.
--With care, my colonel.
I gave him a kiss on the forehead and left for the kitchen, where I grabbed two water bottles, some walnut cookies, and a bit of ketchup for the pizza.
I didn't take long, so I came back soon, but just as I was returning to my room I saw Alex and three friends who were with him staying outside his room, leaning against the wall.
--What's up, good friend Erik? --Alex said in a mocking tone--. Look how we're talking among ourselves, telling each other about how worried you've got us. Because either one of two things, or you lost your alpha charm and it's no longer working for you, or the slut came out mute.
--What? What are you talking about?
--Well, none of us has heard a single moan from the slut. Not even the sad creaking of the bed that would indicate you've screwed her. Is she not wanting to? Or is everyone praying?
Alex and company burst out laughing, and my mouth went dry with anger at the moment. I had to force a smile before continuing, to avoid raising suspicions.
--If someone's cock isn't working, it's you, good Alex --I said to him--. Do you want me to remind your friends about the few energies with which you screwed Astrid? You only caught her once that night, and my poor ex-whore was so dissatisfied with your performance that she hasn't stopped talking since then.
--Hooooooooooooooooohhh! --his friends mocked him.
--And as for my madr... my... slut... don't you... Be worried about her, because you're going to hear her roar in no time. Meanwhile, go to hell and leave me alone.
I sent them to hell and entered the room, where my mother was lying down with her eyes closed. When she heard me close the door, she opened them and sighed, while I gazed at her with my mouth open.
Pffft! What a view... She was lying on her side in decubitus position, with her breasts falling one over the other, spilling onto the bed, and her powerful and fat buttocks bulging behind her.
—A... where are the water bottles? I said.
In the position she was in, with her leather skirt wrapped around a little, I could see her bright and white thighs, as well as the edge of the lace where her black stockings ended (gloriously stuffed into her legs), and the fine black garter hiding under her skirt.
I swallowed saliva and opened a water bottle. I was starting to get hot again.
—Thanks... heaven, give me some water.
My mother moved on the bed once more until she was centered in the bed, and her enormous breasts shook beneath her zebra blouse, overwhelming me.
—Are you okay, Akira?
—I felt a heaviness in my body. It must be from the stress we've been through... with those guys out there for a while now.
—Yes... I said without breath—, it must be that. Here, drink some water.
She sat up, leaned back on the bed frame and drank.
—Son, why don't you help me take off my high heels, please?
I don't know why her request produced the gland in me throbbing and a hot blood adrenaline rushing to my head:
—Cl... of course... I'll help you...
—Thanks, heaven. I feel so disoriented and fatigued that I can't do anything for myself.
—Don't worry, I'll help you with whatever you ask.
I picked up the water bottle, put it on the table and then turned back to the bed, where I prepared to observe her thighs and legs While she was closing her eyes again.
—Can you lift your foot up a bit?—I asked my mother almost in a whisper.
—Of course, dear,—she said without opening her eyes.
She looked exhausted and almost defeated by sleep. Although it was also possible that she was faking it, judging by her rhythmic and accelerated breathing. But why would she fake it?
Being closer to my mother, I could perceive the strong, exquisite, and breathable fragrance of her perfume. With great care, I lifted the ankle of the sensual mature woman in front of me, and taking advantage that she had her eyes closed, I lifted her leg more than usual while I tried to look under her skirt... trying to see something...
Erik... stop looking at what you shouldn't... it's your mother, you bastard my subconscious yelled, so I had a severe panic attack and forced myself to keep going.
Feeling the smoothness of the stockings on my thick hands made my cock get harder and thicker. Suddenly, I had intense desires to lift my hands up to her thighs and hips, then lick every millimeter of the fabric and slowly ascend until I hid under the skirt, meeting the aroma of female sex that, if she weren't my mother, would have led me to devour her juicy and hairy pussy. Did she really have it hairy? All milfs had it like that.
Stop thinking of her as a woman, you bastard, she's the mother who bore you
I took another deep breath and finally removed her high heels, one by one, without realizing that my subconscious would produce the desire to take those small hidden feet into my mouth. My cock was throbbing with mothers while I conformed to rub the instep and sole of her feet. What the hell was happening to me? Was it really so many days without getting laid that were... making me anxious, to the point of moroseing my own voluptuous mother?
—Hmmm,—she suddenly jaded, and my cock stood up straight.
I sighed again. She was beautiful,
there laid on a bed where only women who had rested their bodies on it had ended up with their legs open and their clitoris soaked in mecos.
—It's over... mother, much better now?
—Thank you, Erik, much better —she murmured, finally opening her eyes and speaking in a voice that was more than pleased.
Then... remembering this moan I had just expressed while rubbing my ankle, I said, extremely embarrassed...
—Hey... mother, can I ask something?
—Yes, Erik, tell me.
—It's just that there's a situation and... uff, I don't know how to ask you.
—What is it, son? Just tell me what you need.
—I'm really ashamed.
She narrowed her eyes with curiosity and said:
—But why? How can you be ashamed in front of your mother? Come on, dear, nothing's wrong.
—Well... see... how do I say this? Well, I'll give you context.
—Okay?
—My roommates next to me... start bothering me...
—What start bothering you, you say?
—it's just that... how do I tell you? —The words wouldn't come out. Talking about these topics with my own mother made me extremely uncomfortable—
You see... as you can probably guess... I'm older now and have needs, then... I think you know it's not the first time... I receive visits in this room.
My mother made a gesture of discomfort that resembled jealousy.
—Yes... you're telling me that women like those have come here... but... what does that have to do with your roommates bothering you?
—I mean... when I received visits... well... logically they... produced... sounds according to the moment... That is... oh, mother, it's so hard for me to tell you! I mean that they... well... they moaned.
My mother let out a strong gasp that left me stunned and with embarrassment written all over my face. Still, I continued.
—In short... they... the others... moaned. I mean, every time a girl like those as you say, visited me, it was inevitable... that she would moan loudly.
—Why?
—Do you really want me to explain it, mother?
—Akira returned to groan, her cheeks flushed and then she said:
—¿Eh? Oh no, not that, please don't make me feel uncomfortable.
—I'm sorry, mom.
—No, son, don't apologize, it's just that... I can't get used to the idea of you growing up so much... having those natural needs and having to resort to women like that to satisfy them.
—Yes, I know, it's very hard for me too... because... I find it uncomfortable. Tell me.
My mom sighed. She looked at the tips of her toes and then back at my eyes.
—I'm to blame, son, for not getting used to seeing you as a grown man. I swear that when I thought about you in your absence, despite the years, I did it by imagining that small red-haired boy who left home one day.
—Well, look, mom, I've grown up. I'm a man now.
—I know, dear. Still... for a mother, her children will always be her babies, even if they're hairy like you and have a beard —she laughed for the first time—. And despite that, I swear it's hard for me to accept that you're no longer my little boy, but my big man who has changed physically.
—Do you think I'm ugly, mom? —I pretended to be indignant, going back to caress the soles of her feet, while she smiled... erotic.
—No, my little lead soldier —she replied, blushing—. Quite the opposite. You're very handsome. In fact, you look quite like your father when he was your age. Even... your scent... is different... it's been a while since... I thought I was hugging my son, not him, and that's why... I used my nails to caress your back, and it was... something that shouldn't have happened.
—Did you caress me with your nails, mom? Don't say that, I felt very good, I liked it.
—I know, but it wasn't right, that's a very shameful attitude because a mother should never see her sons as men, let alone caress them like that.
—You're my son, mom, No you'd have to. Mothers caress their children.
—Not like I did with you.
—How?
—Don't make me talk, heaven, please.
—Okay, okay... I won't put you in this predicament. Instead, I want to continue what I was saying to you.
—Yes, that... what you were saying to me. Although I don't understand how the groans of your... old visitors have anything to do with me.
—Well... —and there, with all the shame in the world, I had to let it slip—... my friends have reprimanded me for saying you haven't groaned. And I need you to groan.
—How do you say?
The eyes of my mother opened like a plate, and that which her Oriental features completely prevented it from doing so. She paled, gasped slightly, and straightened her back on the backrest. She even pulled up her feet, so I couldn't caress her ankles anymore.
—... pretending... groans, of course— I clarified—, just... to leave them calm... for a while.
—Son, God... how do you think I... am going to start moaning like this in front of you? Pffft, I'd die of shame! What will you think of me?
—But it's just... simulation, mother... just... acting, to leave them calm... something light and that's it...
—It's just that I... couldn't... even if I could... the truth is that I can't moan without any kind of stimulation.
We were silent for several seconds until I mustered the courage to continue:
—Please, Akira... really need you to groan. I know it's a bit complicated for you, I swear I understand, but it's very necessary.
—Regardless of whether I feel like groaning in front of you or not, son... I swear I can't... my moans wouldn't come out naturally!
—Well... then we have to find a way.
—What way?
I really wanted to ask him what gets you most turned on and makes you groan? But out of pity and a bit of embarrassment, all I managed to say:
—Ammm, I don't know... mother, why won't you tell me what kind of stimulation you need to moan?
—Pardon? —Mamá snorted very loudly at my question. He turned his face away and stopped looking at me, pained—. How do you ask that, Erik? For God's sake, it's something so intimate.
Literally, we had kissed in front of my comrades from the barracks while I was rubbing her buttocks, and it bothered my mother more than asking about her pleasure thresholds.
—I'm sorry, mom, I know it causes a lot of shame for you, I swear that to me too, but it's really imperative to know what produces... satisfaction... when you receive certain stimulations that make you moan.
—But son!
—Only want to help you, mom, we have to do this to get out of this well. Besides, not all moans have to have a sexual connotation, do you know? For example, when you eat something or drink something that causes a delicious impression on your palate, one usually says Hummmm what ricoooo, do you know?
—Well yes...
—In fact, just a moment ago you moaned while... I was massaging your beautiful feet...
—Yes... I know, son, but...
—Then just try to tell me what kind of... stimuli could provoke this kind of words... moans or simple Ufff... qué tasty while pronouncing my name.
My mother seemed attacked by what I was saying. In fact, she paled to the whiteness of her skin, so I had to leave her alone for a few minutes. She remained silent for a long time, and when I thought it was all lost and she wouldn't agree, she said:
—Do you know what, Erik? Now that I think about it calmly, massages on the neck, shoulders... even on the entire upper part of the clavicle and back always... have provoked those stimuli you're looking for in me.
—Ohhh, great, mom... I mean, Akira. In fact... I have some relaxing oils here that you sent me last time and that have helped me relax my muscles. You see that sometimes after my training I'm quite knackered.
—Oh, yes, Erik, I remember them well, since I prepared them myself. When they rub against the skin, their properties warm the muscles and relax... and I thought that's where I could moan... but where do you have those oils? —Here, in the first aid kit, wait, I'll get them. —Wait a moment, son, because... before you know there's a problem... —A problem, mother? What problem? My mother took a deep breath, looking at me with her eyes, until she finally dared to tell me: —The problem is that... for those oils and massages to work... in my body... I have to... be naked... My heart swelled with a shock, my cock pulsed in my groin and the beats of my chest began to rumble throughout my body. —Then... let's do it... undress me. My mother fixed her fiery eyes on mine... and suddenly... I saw a very dark and seductive spark in her gaze that I had never known before. And she said: —Then undress me...
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CONTINUE
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--Shit, Erik, breathe, relax, remember this night won't bring a real slut... but Akira, your mother... Uff, God!
And despite programming (or at least trying) the cock doesn't understand reasons, and your desire to fuck doesn't stop even when you repeat over and over that the woman who will sleep with you tonight... isn't a pussy available for eating, but rather a forbidden fruit you can't access, nor do you have the right to desire it for matters of blood, ethics, repugnance, sin, and above all, moral prejudices.
On the other hand, never expect that the day will come when your friends will label your mother as a prostitute, seeing her as a semen bag, and while they wait with curiosity in the barracks' corridors, only thinking about her as a slut, morbidly fantasizing and dedicating their best mental wanks to her.
And yet, that was my fate on that June night when I was told that a slut named Akira was entering the barracks, looking for me.
--Shit, mom... you've arrived, what am I supposed to do now?
I remember I was waiting for her at my room door when I received the warning, and several of my colleagues, including the jerk Alex, were there, bordering the path without disguise with a lascivious attitude waiting for her to pass.
And I was burning with rage. It was Extremely uncomfortable was what all that bunch of guys made me feel with such an act. It seemed to me a terribly coarse and vile attitude they were having. The worst is that I couldn't do anything to reprimand them since it was almost a normalized act for all the boys to put ourselves in the hallways to look forward to the new whores arriving at the barracks.
—Where's that slut that isn't showing up? —said Alex desperate.
—She won't be late, —said one of his colleagues—, didn't you hear that Akira was already announced?
—Well, peel your eyes, guys —said another one of them, rubbing himself—, because the foxy has to show up any minute now.
My nerves were crowding my mind. How the hell could they talk about my mother like that without even knowing her? How does a son react to situations like this without raising any suspicions at all? My rage wouldn't give me a break. It was almost uncontrollable and voracious.
I was so angry I didn't even notice when some high heels started echoing down the hallway, so everyone began looking towards that spot.
—That's the slut —someone warned—, listen to her heels as she walks, that must be the slut . What a fox has been desired!
And everyone laughed while my face froze in the atmosphere.
—Take off that funeral face, dear Erik the impaler —Alex told me—, anyone would say that the one arriving is your mother and not your slut .
I had to face new laughter again while my legs trembled.
—Stop saying stupid things, guy, because tonight you'll hear what's good, knowing how a real man screws —I thought of telling the one who just became my new fervent enemy, even though I knew nothing he promised would really happen, for obvious reasons.
—Well, that's what I'm waiting for, male —the idiot replied as a challenge—, I'll be on the lookout from the moans and the scandalous sounds of your bed's springs. The present ones took our tacit agreement as just and when the silhouette of my supposed prostitute appeared at the end of the hallway, I couldn't breathe anymore. —Damn— I muttered. My chest inflamed. My heart beat strongly. The blood descended to my heels. And... I swear by God that I don't know why at the same time as all this happened, trapped in anxiety and fear, my cock got hard. It was a strange, instantaneous, sinful, insane, and... quite prolonged erection that burst forth in my military pants, which fortunately none of the present ones noticed.
It was really an erection with no reason to be, mainly because the context of what was happening was noble at the same time as it was described as sordid. Noble because it was the reunion between a mother and her son who hadn't seen each other in a long time. Sordid because the circumstances under which all this happened were extremely humiliating and brutal. My mother was presenting herself at the military barracks like a prostitute coming to fornicate with me.
And if something in all this could be morbid, it's that none of my comrades had the slightest idea that that woman was my progenitor.
—Damn... —someone said when that woman with abundant black hair walking with affected cadence on the hallway tiles began to solidify her figure—, but what a slut looks...
When one remembers their mother by closing their eyes, they do so innocently, weighing heavily upon her in a very universal way, where always stands out her sweetness, harmony, maternal aspect, terse voice, simplicity, and even her spirit as a homemaker who takes care of you and loves you.
I say the above so that it can be better understood the impact I had when looking at my mother dressed in a black leather mini-skirt that clung to her fat thighs and obese ass like a glove. Her legs, calves, and shins... They were seductively wrapped in a pair of red stockings attributable to professional prostitutes, making her look vulgar and sexy, every time her femininity was accentuated. Their turned legs and scandalous hips looked much more attractive and sexy due to the height of their black platform heels as they advanced slowly.
The polyester blouse with zebra stripe print would have been perfectly decent (since it covered her up to her shoulders and had a long sleeve), if not for the prominent horizontal transparency from the neckline, where her insinuating and rounded breasts stood out, looking immense with a tight cleavage.
As is natural, all the bunch of guys started launching flattery, laughter, vulgar gestures, lustful looks, and my mother began to pale due to never having been so exposed to such dirty harassment. For my part, I barely could move an inch without knowing how to react. And yet, despite all the discomfort, she continued walking, upright, elegantly passing through the hallway that seemed longer than it actually was.
Take a step forward and she finally looked at me. Her oriental eyes became bright, and from afar, it seemed relieved to see me while struggling to act naturally, even if she was unable to know how a mother who pretends to be a prostitute visiting her son should behave.
Menudo culazo you have, foxy, I heard Francisco Magallanes say, with such nalgotas, I'd let you sit on my face and suffocate me.
Joder with the breasts that hang from this little one, Rodrigo Franco sang out, with mine measuring over 20cm, these melons won't even come out above her breasts if she does a Russian on me.
It's Asian, foxy, so I like these bitches, Ismael Hernández murmured. I see her and want to do everything that would happen in the most perverted hentai. what I would have seen.
I took another step forward, tolerating with rage each comment while breathing deeply, with the need to rescue my mother from all those disrespectful jerks. But my problem was that any attempt to defend her would become extremely rare, and the worst is that if they discovered our trap, not only would my professional dreams be frustrated (which at this point was already a minor thing) but my progenitor would end up in front of everyone like a vile slut. It would be humiliating and even turbid for my colleagues to think that I could really screw her.
And while I thought about that, a vile atrocity occurred. I didn't know who it was, but as she passed by, visibly scared, I heard the sound of someone slapping someone's ass, and the terrible Plazzz echoed terribly in the hallway.
She recoiled, and my air was cut off. When Akira jumped out of sheer fright at that tremendous butt-slapping, her enormous breasts bounced in her transparent neckline, agitating like waves on the beach, and all the bunch of jerks mouthed a prolonged wooooow that left me perplexed and frozen, facing her evident humiliation.
My progenitor advanced more quickly, with a slight smile trying to show she was serene, even if I knew with pity and horror that she was horrified. And despite that horror, fear, fright, and shame, my stiff penis didn't just grow a little bigger. And I couldn't help but be impressed by the way she was dressed, with her fat legs vibrating with every step, her fatty breasts spilling over her transparent neckline, and those extremely high heels that undoubtedly stylized her paradisal ass, which didn't stop wobbling with every step she took.
—What a prostitute —Alex said finally licking his lips as my mother passed by him—. But what a ridiculous cow this big golfa is dressed like a zebra.—
The look of horror and amazement that my progenitor left when I heard that. I had to rush now and find her on the way to rescue her so she could regain that security she had lost.
It's just that never in her whole life had she received a treatment like that. In fact, no one (not even my father, at least in public) had ever given her a slap or referred to her as golfa. And then we finally faced each other. We looked at each other suddenly, my heart racing very strongly and not knowing what the hell to do I extended my arm to grab her two hands to hold them with me and infuse security.
And in front of everyone, discomfort arose again, especially when certain phrases jumped out into the air and made us feel vulnerable.
—Stick it to him, asshole — someone said.
—You don't kiss whores — another one said — but that thick-lipped, slutty cebra deserves a good tongue-lashing.
And before all prediction, with tremendous horror, everyone started shouting:
—Kiss! Kiss!
—Stick it to him!
—Kiss her!
—Screw her ass!
—Come on, asshole, we want to see you kiss and screw her ass!
I was stunned, with my chest frozen and my mother watching me with an expression of amazement and half-closed eyes that made me wonder about this whole situation. How could I have made her suffer like that? How did I come up with such a indecent plan that was degrading her so much? We hadn't even said hello yet, and already everyone was demanding we kiss and grope in public, right in front of them, as if we were puppets destined for their entertainment.
How the hell were we supposed to kiss on the mouth, with tongues included? How was I going to grab my own... progenitor's ass? Those guys were crazy!
And yet, the pressures persisted:
—Kiss! Kiss!
—Grab her slapper thighs and...
—Stick it in her ... Mouth-breathing nipple to the golf cebra! And I knew that all our efforts we had made by setting up this whole show in our attempt to see each other without me being sanctioned would go to hell just at this precise moment, among other things, because I respected my mother as someone sacred and for nothing in the world would I make her suffer such terrible moral harm. Because it would be impossible for me to make her go through this embarrassment in public. Because it would be impossible for me to make her feel so uncomfortable making something so degrading, humiliating, and dirty like letting herself be kissed and screwed by her own son just to avoid suspicions before these idiots.
—Give her a tongue!
—Kiss her!
—Squeeze her ass!
My eyes fixed on my mother's, which were burning with fear or I don't know what, didn't blink. My hands pressing hers, which were sweating with nerves, tensed up. And I didn't know how to react to the pressures and those shouts that didn't stop suffocating us.
—Calm down—gestured my mouth while she blinked.
I told myself that the only thing I had to do was pull her in and drag her into the room to avoid being victims of such uncomfortable attacks: but then... just when I was about to execute my plan as planned, without expecting it or seeing it coming, something truly chaotic, turbid, and surprising happened that left me stunned and frozen for seconds.
Everyone shouted sonorous wwwoooowww Damn That's how you do it! Get hot the foxy What a fag... with the act my mom did, and I remained petrified, with my cock stiff, while she suddenly hung herself from my neck, her mouth biting my ear as she whispered:
—Squeeze my ass, Erik, pretend to kiss me and let's get this over with...
I barely took four milliseconds to absorb what she was telling me. Everything worsened in my tense body when I suddenly felt her heavy, hard, and fat breasts sinking into my pectorals... while my throat dried up and my Palpitations were becoming stronger. Was what my mother had told me real or just a product of the heat and the impulse of the moment? Was what I was feeling in my chest, two immense masses of flesh pressing against me, real? Because the only thing I was sure of and that was real was my fat cock getting hard and pulsing against my progenitor's belly.
--But... --I wanted to dissent, with my heart racing, with that terrible need to know exactly what this meant and how I would have the courage to do it without feeling guilty...
I barely managed to pronounce a word when my breath escaped me. Everything was happening quite quickly. In no time at all, my progenitor took her hands to my long fingers and moved them slowly so that my hands soon came unstuck from my sides and lifted into the air before being transferred to her obese thighs, specifically to her corpulent calves, where I automatically extended my fingers until I felt the roughness of the seams on her black stockings, in whose asymmetrical holes I could find the warmth of her skin.
--Hhooohh --a moan ripped from my soul at the same time as my mother dragged her chubby, soft lips from my left ear, where she had whispered Squeeze my ass, Erik, pretend you're kissing me and let's get this over with... until they stuck to my profiled jaw, sliding slowly down to my chin.
--N...o --I tried to rescue her from sin, from her own remorse, from my own desires.
--Shhh --her response was a blunt one, as I felt the warmth of her breath right next to my mouth.
And I felt myself disintegrating under the terrible discomfort of what was happening. I couldn't believe what my mother was doing. Everything seemed like a product of a terrible nightmare. Nightmare for her, because for me everything was truly incredible and even fantastical, as if taken from my darkest and most perverse fantasies.
But everything was real. The chill of her lips on my chin, her cold hands on my neck, her enormous breasts pressed against my chest, and, above all, my huge cock thrusting into her stomach was more than real.
And then my hands extended to her thick thighs, driven by hers that generously indicated the route to destiny. My fingers responded abruptly to the call of my own instincts, and there, in front of everyone, I could feel for the first time in my life the fatness of her buttocks being squeezed by my fingers as they sank into her abundant flesh, every time her lips touched mine in a timid kiss that didn't go further, since neither of us had the courage to open our mouths and pull out our tongues.
And my cock pulsed. And my body suffered an explosive combustion so intense that I thought it would burn with morbid excitement at any moment.
***
When we entered the room and I locked the door, I couldn't even look at my mother.
I... lo... si...ento, ma...
Shhh, nothing's wrong, my love, I heard her maternal voice for the first time.
As I turned to her, I could feel her more tranquil, but my hands were still burning. My fingers still felt that exquisite and perverse sensation of hardness and fatness of her enormous buttocks that had tried to absorb my entire hand. Her breath was still in my mouth and my heart continued to pound wildly while my cock pulsed between my legs.
She was standing in the center of the room, observing everything, which wasn't more than a small alcove with a bathroom at the back, a small refrigerator on the right side, placed above a small table with two chairs, and an individual bed on the opposite side.
Excuse me for a moment, mother... I'll be right back, I said nervously, when she, conscious or not... Inconscientemente, he looked at me suddenly, lowering his gaze to my pants and (I'm sure) noticing with a start my tremendous bulge. And I ran off to the bathroom, where I locked myself in for a good while, wetting my face and adjusting my penis inside my pants, whose stiffness didn't quite subside, cursing the fact that this was happening to me right then. That was the bad thing about having such a big one and not being able to tame it.
—Are you okay, son?—my mother yelled from outside.
—Shhhh!—I warned her with horror.
And she, panting, understood that the panel walls dividing one room from another weren't reliable for keeping sounds and having privacy.
—Oops... I'm sorry,—she apologized, looking apologetic, and then asked again—... are you okay, Erik...
—I'm fine, Akira,—I called her by name to avoid any awkwardness,—now I'll be right there, while I look for a comfortable spot for you to rest.
Already a bit more serene, with my penis at rest, I took a deep breath and found myself with my mother, who was sitting in one of the chairs at my small table.
She smiled at me with tear-filled eyes, I approached her, got down on my knees, and hugged her, and she hugged me back, and despite feeling her enormous breasts pressing against my chest once again, this time it was a normal hug, without morbidness or lust, just the true reunion between a mother and her son.
—How I missed you, my life,—she whispered in a low voice, making my body shiver with the beautiful, innocent tone of her voice.
—I missed you too, mom,—I said in her ear, clinging to her body.
By instinct, I pressed my bearded cheek against hers, flat and smooth, and we rubbed against each other, like a slut son does with his cat mother.
The warmth of my cheek against hers made our skin prickle. For her, it was the tickle of my beard, and for me, it was the softness of her skin. Personally, it provoked new shivers in me that increased as she stroked my broad back with her fingertips. sus nails.
We separated for a moment when that breath of hers that still lingered in my mouth continued to haunt me, being a permanent reminder that she had kissed me on the lips, not too lustful but also not too innocent.
—My little bearded one—she said smiling, stroking my chin with the tip of her nails—
I can't believe you're already all man, my heaven.
—In contrast, you... still remain the same woman.
—Older...
—More beautiful and good—she said without wanting to.
I regretted my comment when I saw her turn red and slightly embarrassed. Then she calmed down. And I remained on my knees in front of her, like when I was a child, while she continued to caress my face, playing with the hairs of my beard and occasionally rubbing my head.
—I feel what you went through out there... with those guys—she apologized, seeing me from the corner of her eye those enormous breasts that shone beneath her transparent blouse.
—Quite the opposite, my little lead soldier, forgive me for making you... touch me, my buttocks and... for scaring you... when... I gave you a kiss.
—What? No, no... madr... Akira (I have to get used to calling you Akira before it slips out mom in front of someone else). Ah, I was saying that you don't have anything to apologize for. Rather, I feel very ashamed for having... sunk my fingers... into your... buttocks. I hope I didn't hurt you. And as for the kiss... I took it as what it is... a sign of affection from a mother to her son.
—That's it, my heaven... let's take it as if it was a sign of affection. Although I confess that I also felt very strange when you squeezed my buttocks but... in the end... as you say, everything was without malice, without any bad intention, only due to the circumstances that forced us to act this way.
And if it had been without malice and without any bad intention, why did my cock stop working? I forced myself to think that it was a natural reaction to the excitement From the moment. After all... cocks don't know about kinship.
—But look, Erik, that's already passed, and everything is fine. We didn't turn to stone like those biblical passages where those were the consequences of committing such sins.
Both of us laughed and Mom pinched my cheeks maternally, brought her beautiful mouth close to my face, and started kissing me. Oh God! In that position, her breasts flattened against each other and became much larger. Between blinks I saw how her leather skirt was rising a bit and how her thick thighs were starting to give in to the mesh of her stockings.
—As for your outfit... mother...
When I mentioned it, she sat back up again, leaning on the chair.
—Do you think I'm coming too... vulgar?
I knew I would hurt her honor if I said yes, so I had to change my argument.
—No... no... I was going to tell you that... you look beautiful... although... well... you must be cold.
—Ah, no, everything's fine. Although it cost me horrors to have to leave the house like that without raising suspicions. Luckily none of the neighbors saw me when the taxi passed by.
—That's good. But tell me... mother, what exactly happened with Dad?
And she told me just what I had intuited. The old man had fallen for the new accountant he hired to handle his books and over time he ended up leaving my mom. She would occasionally sob while telling me, so we changed the subject and started talking about me, my career, my projects, and she also brought me up to speed on family matters.
When I least expected it, almost 50 minutes had passed since we'd been talking and I was still on my knees, a bit numb. I struggled to get up and said:
—Oh God, Mom... Akira, you haven't offered me anything. What do you want? I have soda, beer, and some pizzas in the fridge.
—Don't worry about it, my sky. For now, I just want water.
—Uta... will you believe that is The only thing that didn't prevent it? But wait, I'm going to the barracks' kitchen for some bottles.
--No, no, heaven, it's not necessary. With soda it's fine.
--No, mom, how do you think. Let me go get some water bottles, because I know you prefer it. Five minutes, I won't take long, if you want to lie down on the bed so you can rest, you can do that.
--Okay, son, I'm going to lie down for a moment to stretch my legs.
--Excellent. I'll be back. Don't open the door to anyone.
--With care, my colonel.
I gave him a kiss on the forehead and left for the kitchen, where I grabbed two water bottles, some walnut cookies, and a bit of ketchup for the pizza.
I didn't take long, so I came back soon, but just as I was returning to my room I saw Alex and three friends who were with him staying outside his room, leaning against the wall.
--What's up, good friend Erik? --Alex said in a mocking tone--. Look how we're talking among ourselves, telling each other about how worried you've got us. Because either one of two things, or you lost your alpha charm and it's no longer working for you, or the slut came out mute.
--What? What are you talking about?
--Well, none of us has heard a single moan from the slut. Not even the sad creaking of the bed that would indicate you've screwed her. Is she not wanting to? Or is everyone praying?
Alex and company burst out laughing, and my mouth went dry with anger at the moment. I had to force a smile before continuing, to avoid raising suspicions.
--If someone's cock isn't working, it's you, good Alex --I said to him--. Do you want me to remind your friends about the few energies with which you screwed Astrid? You only caught her once that night, and my poor ex-whore was so dissatisfied with your performance that she hasn't stopped talking since then.
--Hooooooooooooooooohhh! --his friends mocked him.
--And as for my madr... my... slut... don't you... Be worried about her, because you're going to hear her roar in no time. Meanwhile, go to hell and leave me alone.
I sent them to hell and entered the room, where my mother was lying down with her eyes closed. When she heard me close the door, she opened them and sighed, while I gazed at her with my mouth open.
Pffft! What a view... She was lying on her side in decubitus position, with her breasts falling one over the other, spilling onto the bed, and her powerful and fat buttocks bulging behind her.
—A... where are the water bottles? I said.
In the position she was in, with her leather skirt wrapped around a little, I could see her bright and white thighs, as well as the edge of the lace where her black stockings ended (gloriously stuffed into her legs), and the fine black garter hiding under her skirt.
I swallowed saliva and opened a water bottle. I was starting to get hot again.
—Thanks... heaven, give me some water.
My mother moved on the bed once more until she was centered in the bed, and her enormous breasts shook beneath her zebra blouse, overwhelming me.
—Are you okay, Akira?
—I felt a heaviness in my body. It must be from the stress we've been through... with those guys out there for a while now.
—Yes... I said without breath—, it must be that. Here, drink some water.
She sat up, leaned back on the bed frame and drank.
—Son, why don't you help me take off my high heels, please?
I don't know why her request produced the gland in me throbbing and a hot blood adrenaline rushing to my head:
—Cl... of course... I'll help you...
—Thanks, heaven. I feel so disoriented and fatigued that I can't do anything for myself.
—Don't worry, I'll help you with whatever you ask.
I picked up the water bottle, put it on the table and then turned back to the bed, where I prepared to observe her thighs and legs While she was closing her eyes again.
—Can you lift your foot up a bit?—I asked my mother almost in a whisper.
—Of course, dear,—she said without opening her eyes.
She looked exhausted and almost defeated by sleep. Although it was also possible that she was faking it, judging by her rhythmic and accelerated breathing. But why would she fake it?
Being closer to my mother, I could perceive the strong, exquisite, and breathable fragrance of her perfume. With great care, I lifted the ankle of the sensual mature woman in front of me, and taking advantage that she had her eyes closed, I lifted her leg more than usual while I tried to look under her skirt... trying to see something...
Erik... stop looking at what you shouldn't... it's your mother, you bastard my subconscious yelled, so I had a severe panic attack and forced myself to keep going.
Feeling the smoothness of the stockings on my thick hands made my cock get harder and thicker. Suddenly, I had intense desires to lift my hands up to her thighs and hips, then lick every millimeter of the fabric and slowly ascend until I hid under the skirt, meeting the aroma of female sex that, if she weren't my mother, would have led me to devour her juicy and hairy pussy. Did she really have it hairy? All milfs had it like that.
Stop thinking of her as a woman, you bastard, she's the mother who bore you
I took another deep breath and finally removed her high heels, one by one, without realizing that my subconscious would produce the desire to take those small hidden feet into my mouth. My cock was throbbing with mothers while I conformed to rub the instep and sole of her feet. What the hell was happening to me? Was it really so many days without getting laid that were... making me anxious, to the point of moroseing my own voluptuous mother?
—Hmmm,—she suddenly jaded, and my cock stood up straight.
I sighed again. She was beautiful,
there laid on a bed where only women who had rested their bodies on it had ended up with their legs open and their clitoris soaked in mecos.
—It's over... mother, much better now?
—Thank you, Erik, much better —she murmured, finally opening her eyes and speaking in a voice that was more than pleased.
Then... remembering this moan I had just expressed while rubbing my ankle, I said, extremely embarrassed...
—Hey... mother, can I ask something?
—Yes, Erik, tell me.
—It's just that there's a situation and... uff, I don't know how to ask you.
—What is it, son? Just tell me what you need.
—I'm really ashamed.
She narrowed her eyes with curiosity and said:
—But why? How can you be ashamed in front of your mother? Come on, dear, nothing's wrong.
—Well... see... how do I say this? Well, I'll give you context.
—Okay?
—My roommates next to me... start bothering me...
—What start bothering you, you say?
—it's just that... how do I tell you? —The words wouldn't come out. Talking about these topics with my own mother made me extremely uncomfortable—
You see... as you can probably guess... I'm older now and have needs, then... I think you know it's not the first time... I receive visits in this room.
My mother made a gesture of discomfort that resembled jealousy.
—Yes... you're telling me that women like those have come here... but... what does that have to do with your roommates bothering you?
—I mean... when I received visits... well... logically they... produced... sounds according to the moment... That is... oh, mother, it's so hard for me to tell you! I mean that they... well... they moaned.
My mother let out a strong gasp that left me stunned and with embarrassment written all over my face. Still, I continued.
—In short... they... the others... moaned. I mean, every time a girl like those as you say, visited me, it was inevitable... that she would moan loudly.
—Why?
—Do you really want me to explain it, mother?
—Akira returned to groan, her cheeks flushed and then she said:
—¿Eh? Oh no, not that, please don't make me feel uncomfortable.
—I'm sorry, mom.
—No, son, don't apologize, it's just that... I can't get used to the idea of you growing up so much... having those natural needs and having to resort to women like that to satisfy them.
—Yes, I know, it's very hard for me too... because... I find it uncomfortable. Tell me.
My mom sighed. She looked at the tips of her toes and then back at my eyes.
—I'm to blame, son, for not getting used to seeing you as a grown man. I swear that when I thought about you in your absence, despite the years, I did it by imagining that small red-haired boy who left home one day.
—Well, look, mom, I've grown up. I'm a man now.
—I know, dear. Still... for a mother, her children will always be her babies, even if they're hairy like you and have a beard —she laughed for the first time—. And despite that, I swear it's hard for me to accept that you're no longer my little boy, but my big man who has changed physically.
—Do you think I'm ugly, mom? —I pretended to be indignant, going back to caress the soles of her feet, while she smiled... erotic.
—No, my little lead soldier —she replied, blushing—. Quite the opposite. You're very handsome. In fact, you look quite like your father when he was your age. Even... your scent... is different... it's been a while since... I thought I was hugging my son, not him, and that's why... I used my nails to caress your back, and it was... something that shouldn't have happened.
—Did you caress me with your nails, mom? Don't say that, I felt very good, I liked it.
—I know, but it wasn't right, that's a very shameful attitude because a mother should never see her sons as men, let alone caress them like that.
—You're my son, mom, No you'd have to. Mothers caress their children.
—Not like I did with you.
—How?
—Don't make me talk, heaven, please.
—Okay, okay... I won't put you in this predicament. Instead, I want to continue what I was saying to you.
—Yes, that... what you were saying to me. Although I don't understand how the groans of your... old visitors have anything to do with me.
—Well... —and there, with all the shame in the world, I had to let it slip—... my friends have reprimanded me for saying you haven't groaned. And I need you to groan.
—How do you say?
The eyes of my mother opened like a plate, and that which her Oriental features completely prevented it from doing so. She paled, gasped slightly, and straightened her back on the backrest. She even pulled up her feet, so I couldn't caress her ankles anymore.
—... pretending... groans, of course— I clarified—, just... to leave them calm... for a while.
—Son, God... how do you think I... am going to start moaning like this in front of you? Pffft, I'd die of shame! What will you think of me?
—But it's just... simulation, mother... just... acting, to leave them calm... something light and that's it...
—It's just that I... couldn't... even if I could... the truth is that I can't moan without any kind of stimulation.
We were silent for several seconds until I mustered the courage to continue:
—Please, Akira... really need you to groan. I know it's a bit complicated for you, I swear I understand, but it's very necessary.
—Regardless of whether I feel like groaning in front of you or not, son... I swear I can't... my moans wouldn't come out naturally!
—Well... then we have to find a way.
—What way?
I really wanted to ask him what gets you most turned on and makes you groan? But out of pity and a bit of embarrassment, all I managed to say:
—Ammm, I don't know... mother, why won't you tell me what kind of stimulation you need to moan?
—Pardon? —Mamá snorted very loudly at my question. He turned his face away and stopped looking at me, pained—. How do you ask that, Erik? For God's sake, it's something so intimate.
Literally, we had kissed in front of my comrades from the barracks while I was rubbing her buttocks, and it bothered my mother more than asking about her pleasure thresholds.
—I'm sorry, mom, I know it causes a lot of shame for you, I swear that to me too, but it's really imperative to know what produces... satisfaction... when you receive certain stimulations that make you moan.
—But son!
—Only want to help you, mom, we have to do this to get out of this well. Besides, not all moans have to have a sexual connotation, do you know? For example, when you eat something or drink something that causes a delicious impression on your palate, one usually says Hummmm what ricoooo, do you know?
—Well yes...
—In fact, just a moment ago you moaned while... I was massaging your beautiful feet...
—Yes... I know, son, but...
—Then just try to tell me what kind of... stimuli could provoke this kind of words... moans or simple Ufff... qué tasty while pronouncing my name.
My mother seemed attacked by what I was saying. In fact, she paled to the whiteness of her skin, so I had to leave her alone for a few minutes. She remained silent for a long time, and when I thought it was all lost and she wouldn't agree, she said:
—Do you know what, Erik? Now that I think about it calmly, massages on the neck, shoulders... even on the entire upper part of the clavicle and back always... have provoked those stimuli you're looking for in me.
—Ohhh, great, mom... I mean, Akira. In fact... I have some relaxing oils here that you sent me last time and that have helped me relax my muscles. You see that sometimes after my training I'm quite knackered.
—Oh, yes, Erik, I remember them well, since I prepared them myself. When they rub against the skin, their properties warm the muscles and relax... and I thought that's where I could moan... but where do you have those oils? —Here, in the first aid kit, wait, I'll get them. —Wait a moment, son, because... before you know there's a problem... —A problem, mother? What problem? My mother took a deep breath, looking at me with her eyes, until she finally dared to tell me: —The problem is that... for those oils and massages to work... in my body... I have to... be naked... My heart swelled with a shock, my cock pulsed in my groin and the beats of my chest began to rumble throughout my body. —Then... let's do it... undress me. My mother fixed her fiery eyes on mine... and suddenly... I saw a very dark and seductive spark in her gaze that I had never known before. And she said: —Then undress me...
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