Daniel sat, motionless. Staring. Unable to move or breathe, it felt like. Unable to do anything but watch. He felt the swelling, and kept himself from moving his hand toward the plastic and steel cage that encased him under his slacks. What was the point?
And anyway, he simply * couldn’t* move. His eyes were locked in his head, he could barely blink. Didn’t *want* to blink. His heart was laboring in his chest and he felt sweat beading his forehead and slicking his chest and back as he watched his wife sucking their son’s meaty cock.
All of the emotions that usually warred within him in these moments were with him now. Only magnified. He felt the jealousy, the lust. The roiling churn of emotions in his gut, love and lust and embarrassment and guilt and dismay and want and desire … all balled up, each rearing its head in turn, making his heart pound harder and his cock stiffen in its cage and his body sweat and minutely shiver and jerk. But it was so much harder, so much more powerful now.
It was *Michael*. His son, his oldest boy. Tall, strong, lithe … his youthful body well-muscled and strong, vibrant with life and vigor. And his wife, Jenna … clearly lost in it … lost in the powerful lust that claimed her in these moments … but, like him, seemingly, even more lost in it because it was … it was *Michael*. He could feel it, the current between them all. So much stronger than with any of the bulls who had claimed her these past four years.
He watched his oldest boy, eyes closed, head pressed back into the cushion, run his big hand through his mother’s blonde-brown bob, mussing it, holding his hand to the curve of the back of her head as she slurped and sucked, bobbing up and down, her left hand stroking the thick length of his cock, large-carat diamond engagement ring glinting next to her wedding band as she expertly moved it in time with her sucking, her mouth working the swollen head, her eyes looking up at her handsome son, her other hand working between her own thighs, under the short leather skirt, making a soft, rhythmic moaning sound of joyful lust.
“Jesus … mom … stop … you’re gonna make me cum,” Michael gasped, opening his eyes slowly, a man in a daze, looking down at her even as he continued to hold her head, guiding his mother in her single-minded, almost crazed, needy sucking. He finally put his other hand on her head too, held her, lifted her gently, and gasped when her spit-shined lips slipped from the swollen, blood-pinked head of his erect cock.
Jenna licked her lips, dazed, looking at her son … then put both hands on his thighs for support and lifted herself, swaying on the sexy but slightly ridiculous heels she still had on. She undid her skirt in two deft moves, and the leather separated and slid from her, falling to the floor. She had on a sheer black thong over her black lace garter belt. Daniel watched her slide her polish-tipped fingers into the straps of the g-string-style scrap of fabric, situated high on her hips, and slide them down her tanned, toned thighs. She lifted one leg, then the other, using her son’s muscled thighs for support, watching Michael the whole time.
She bent and picked the thong up … and turned to her husband. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, lambent, almost feral.
“Look at this, baby,” she cooed to Daniel. She held out the gusset of the thong to him. Even from four feet away, he could see the glistening darker patch, the whitish essence of her juices staining the fabric. He believe he could smell her musk, even from here. “I’ve been *soaking* wet for our son, all day.” She stepped over Michael’s outstretched calf and foot and walked to Daniel, then stood before him, proudly, her sex bare and gleaming and slick-looking, her hardened nipples visible through the maroon silk of her blouse. “My god, honey … I’ve *never* been this wet, this ready. Here,” she murmured, and held the thong out to him, the smeared, wet gusset spread between her fingers. This close, he could see the whitish streaks of her grool smeared on the sheer fabric. “Open your mouth. Taste what our sexy son has done to me.”
Daniel looked up at his wife, everything in him clenched, warring. His heart labored, his brain grinded. He glanced past her, and to his shock, found his son’s eyes on him. Their eyes locked. And Daniel felt himself *shrink* … the sensation was jarring, unreal. His son’s eyes stayed locked on his … and as much as he wanted to be the man he often thought himself to be, the father and husband and man of business he presented to the world … the other part of him, the *real* part of him, the essence Jenna had found in him, shrunk but also swelled at the same time, his heart pounding with his love and lust and need and adoration. And he opened his mouth.
“I love you *so* much,” Jenna breathed, and tucked the slimy gusset of the thong into his mouth, gently, making sure the wettest patch was against his tongue. “I *knew* you’d want this as much as me.” She leaned and kissed his cheek, tenderly, lovingly. She stood again, looking at him with such love and tenderness that he thought his heart would burst.
But she was already turning, even as he yearned toward her, her eyes drawn back to their son, and she stepped away from Daniel and walked to Michael, the daylight streaming through the living room windows seeming to limn her in some warm, ethereal light as she strutted, standing between Michael’s outstretched legs. She turned to face Daniel. Her bared pussy gleamed with her moisture as she unbuttoned the maroon blouse, then cast it aside, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of silk. Her smallish, still-firm breasts were encased in the bra that matched the thong in Daniel’s mouth — black, sheer, hiding nothing. Her dark pink nipples were engorged, elongated, as she stepped backward, maneuvered, squatted … then reached between her legs for their son’s thick erection. She guided it as she squatted lower, and Daniel watched as she pressed their son’s swollen glans to her moist opening, her labia lewdly splayed.
“Jesus,” he heard Michael breathe, and almost in the same heartbeat, heard his wife moan “Yesss” as she minutely maneuvered her hips, positioning both herself and their son’s cock … and then, without preamble, sank slowly down onto the bare, gleaming shaft, her eyes closing, the whites rolling before her lids hid them, even as Michael’s hands found her hips and helped her, held her, as she sank slowly down onto his engorged length.
Daniel was spellbound, aghast, horrified and as aroused as he’d ever been in his life. But he might as well have been in another room, another house … another country … for all that his wife and their son knew. He watched, eyes wide, as his wife leaned back, and their son’s hands and arms came around to hold her, as she leaned against his broad chest and turned her head, awkwardly, to find Michael’s mouth with hers. Their kiss was practiced, needy, hungry, tongues instantly plunging and roiling. Daniel watched Michae’s right hand find and cup his mother’s right breast, squeezing … as his left slid down her belly to the juncture of her legs, where his thick cock was deep insider he glistening wetness, her vagina stretched around his girth. His first two fingers found her distended clit with practiced ease as she began a slow, rotating grind, easing up and off him an inch or two, then plunging back down. The funk of their fucking drifted across the space between, filling Daniel’s senses, even as his ears were filled with the wet sound of their deep kiss and the wetter sound of their coitus.
“You’re fucking our son.”
The words came in a grating croak, and for a moment Daniel wasn’t even sure he’d uttered them.
But Jenna had heard. She broke the wet kiss with her son, turned, looked at Daniel, her eyes deep and almost alien, heavy with her arousal.
“Oh God, yes … yes, honey. It’s so good. So fucking good,” she mewled, and seemed to lean back, thighs widening, as if she wanted her husband to see better. To see where her bared vagina was undulating, taking in their son’s thick penis, the glistening moisture they were both creating. She ground down onto him, taking all of their son’s impressive manhood up inside her, until her pubic mound was pressed fully onto the base of his cock. Her groan of happiness was primal, unstudied, as authentic as any sound of lust he’d ever heard his wife make.
And Michael … he watched his son cup and caress his mother’s breast, watched his big fingers find and caress and tweak the distended pink nipple through the bra, even as he used his other hand to caress the gleaming pink nub of his mother’s clit.
“He’s gonna cum inside me,” Jenna whispered, moving, hips seeming to undulate and circle of their own accord. “You need to see that, honey,” she added, her arms reaching up, over her head, around Michael’s head, her hands burying themselves into his thick hair. “It’s so good when he does it. I feel … reborn,” she sighed. Her eyes focused on Daniel for a moment, even as she ground on their son. “You *want* to see it … don’t you? Tell Michael. Tell him you want to see him cum inside me. Tell him you want to see him cum inside your wife.”
Lost. He was lost. Lost in this, lost in all of it. He had been, for years. She knew him too well. Knew he could deny her nothing. Not even this.
And there was a freedom to it, finally. As if this was a last lock that needed opening. As last heavily guarded gate to walk through.
He took a shuddering breath, heart pounding. Raised his eyes to find his son looking at him, the son he loved, almost a stranger to him in this moment. He tried to speak … croaked .. cleared his throat.
“Michael … please. Please, son … show me.” He swallowed, eyes shifting from his son to his wife. “Cum inside your mom. I want you to.”
*******
*I’ll write more. Kinda have to now. But please let me know if you like it!*
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ir6gw2/a_mothers_lust_part_5_cuck_fdom_mmf_inc