She walked into my room without knocking, the way she always did lately. At twenty-three I still lived at home, and she made sure I remembered whose house it was. Mom stood in the doorway in black stockings and a silk robe that barely covered her ass. "Strip," she said. No hello. No warm-up. Just that one word.
I dropped my jeans and boxers right there. My cock was already half hard from the tone in her voice. She pointed at the floor between her feet. I knelt. The carpet was rough on my knees but I didn't move. She opened the robe. Nothing underneath except smooth skin and the trimmed strip of hair above her pussy. "Lick," she ordered.
I leaned in and dragged my tongue up her slit. She tasted clean and a little salty. Her hand went to the back of my head and she pulled me tighter against her. "Deeper. Use your tongue like you mean it." I pushed inside her, fucking her with it while she rocked her hips. Every time I slowed she gave my hair a sharp tug. "Faster. Don't make me tell you twice."
When she was wet enough she stepped back and let the robe fall. She grabbed the leather collar from the nightstand and buckled it around my neck. The metal ring clicked against my throat. "On the bed. Face down."
I climbed up and pressed my chest to the mattress. She cuffed my wrists behind my back with the soft leather restraints she kept in the drawer. Her palm cracked across my ass once, hard enough to sting. "You don't come until I say. Understand?"
"Yes, Mom."
She climbed on behind me and I felt the cold drip of lube between my cheeks. One finger pushed in, then two, stretching me open. She worked them slow and mean, curling them until I groaned into the pillow. "Quiet," she snapped. "Or I'll gag you."
The head of her strap-on pressed against me next. She had bought the thick black one last month and she liked using it. She pushed in steady, not giving me time to adjust. I hissed at the burn but she didn't stop until her hips were flush against my ass. "Take it," she said. "Take every inch like a good boy."
She fucked me in long, deep strokes. Each thrust shoved my cock against the sheets. I was leaking pre-cum everywhere but I kept my hands behind my back and my mouth shut. She reached under me and wrapped her fingers around my shaft, stroking in time with her thrusts. "You like your mother fucking your ass, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Say it louder."
"Yes, Mom. I like it."
She laughed, low and dirty, and picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. She leaned over my back, her tits pressing against me, and bit my shoulder. "Don't you dare come yet."
I was right on the edge. My balls were tight and every stroke of her hand made me shake. She pulled out suddenly and flipped me onto my back. The cuffs stayed on. She straddled my face and lowered her pussy onto my mouth again. "Make me come first."
I licked and sucked her clit the way she taught me, circling and flicking until her thighs trembled around my head. She ground down hard, using my face, until she came with a sharp cry and a flood of wetness over my tongue. She stayed there a moment, catching her breath, then slid down my body and sank onto my cock in one smooth motion.
She rode me slow at first, then harder, her hands on my chest for balance. "Look at me," she ordered. I met her eyes. They were dark and hungry. "You belong to me. This cock belongs to me."
"Yes, Mom."
She reached down and rubbed her clit while she bounced on me. Her pussy clenched tight. I could feel every squeeze. "Now," she said. "Come inside me."
I exploded with a groan, hips jerking up into her. She kept riding through it, milking every drop until I was shaking and oversensitive. Only then did she lift off and uncuff my wrists. She lay beside me, one leg thrown over mine, and stroked my chest while I came down.
"Clean me up," she said after a minute.
I rolled between her legs again and licked my own cum from her pussy, slow and thorough the way she liked. She sighed and petted my hair. "Good boy."
When I finished she pulled me up beside her and kissed me, tasting herself and me on my tongue. Her hand stayed on the back of my neck, possessive. "Same time tomorrow," she murmured against my mouth. "Don't be late."
I nodded. She smiled, satisfied, and closed her eyes. I stayed awake a little longer, the collar still around my throat, listening to her breathing and already wanting the next time she would tell me exactly what to do.
