Rockingham
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2001
- Posts
- 735
Michael
"Oh yes... Mother," He felt that twinge every time he spoke her name, as if a hiccup in her established rhythm. Each time she got comfortable with it, each time she accepted the hard hot cock in her mouth, tasting its forbidden pleasures he made sure she understood this was the cock of her son, this was her own, her breed taking it from her.
No, but he never took. He guided her, he manipulated her, he humiliated her, but he never raped her. The door was open, and she had no chains upon her pale soft wrists. She was here on her knees of her own free will.
He felt it again, her passe of the situation. She accepted it one more time. His hands moved down to wipe the dirty hair from her prism face. He watched her engorge herself onto him, her eyes closed. Were they closed? Did she dare close them and try to pretend it was someone else?
Who else? Ned? His father? His other father? The one who abandoned him as well. No... she could not take that route either. She could not back down from this.
"Open your eyes. Look up at me Mother, look at your proud son."
And then, when the darkness of her pupils met him, climbing his body with a determined slowness that showed her reluctance, the torches pinned to the walls all lit up. They all burst into flame at once, and she saw him. She saw all of him.
How handsome he was, how lean. He didn't look like Ned. He had nothing of Ned in him. He looked like her, a male version of her at least. The muscles were more pronounced, the face more chiseled, but the eyes gave it away. The eyes and the hair showed him as her.
He might have even been a younger version of her father.
"Can you see now?" He held her head, knowing she had stopped once more, the sting of what she was doing still fresh, still an open wound festering each time he played upon it.
"Good... I am glad, mother. You may continue."
Her curse was to love him, for he was her child.
His curse was to hate her, for she was his mother.
"Oh yes... Mother," He felt that twinge every time he spoke her name, as if a hiccup in her established rhythm. Each time she got comfortable with it, each time she accepted the hard hot cock in her mouth, tasting its forbidden pleasures he made sure she understood this was the cock of her son, this was her own, her breed taking it from her.
No, but he never took. He guided her, he manipulated her, he humiliated her, but he never raped her. The door was open, and she had no chains upon her pale soft wrists. She was here on her knees of her own free will.
He felt it again, her passe of the situation. She accepted it one more time. His hands moved down to wipe the dirty hair from her prism face. He watched her engorge herself onto him, her eyes closed. Were they closed? Did she dare close them and try to pretend it was someone else?
Who else? Ned? His father? His other father? The one who abandoned him as well. No... she could not take that route either. She could not back down from this.
"Open your eyes. Look up at me Mother, look at your proud son."
And then, when the darkness of her pupils met him, climbing his body with a determined slowness that showed her reluctance, the torches pinned to the walls all lit up. They all burst into flame at once, and she saw him. She saw all of him.
How handsome he was, how lean. He didn't look like Ned. He had nothing of Ned in him. He looked like her, a male version of her at least. The muscles were more pronounced, the face more chiseled, but the eyes gave it away. The eyes and the hair showed him as her.
He might have even been a younger version of her father.
"Can you see now?" He held her head, knowing she had stopped once more, the sting of what she was doing still fresh, still an open wound festering each time he played upon it.
"Good... I am glad, mother. You may continue."
Her curse was to love him, for he was her child.
His curse was to hate her, for she was his mother.
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