She knelt on the kitchen floor like she had no choice, eyes wide and wet, staring up at the thick cock pointing right at her face. "Open your fucking mouth, Mom," he growled, grabbing her hair. She shook her head once, but his grip tightened and he slapped the heavy head of his dick against her lips until she parted them. The second she did, he shoved in deep, forcing her throat to stretch around every inch.
Her hands came up to push at his thighs but he held her there, hips rocking slow and mean, making her gag and drool down her chin. "That's it, take it. Suck your son's cock like you were made for it." She tried to turn her head but he thrust harder, the wet sounds filling the quiet room. Spit ran down her neck and soaked the front of her shirt. He pulled out just long enough to smear the head across her cheek, then drove back in, using her mouth like a toy.
She made these broken little noises around his shaft, half protest, half something hotter she wouldn't admit. Her tongue flattened under the weight of him and he fucked it, balls tapping her chin with every push. "Suck harder. Use that tongue or I tell Dad what a slut you really are." That got her moving. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking wet and messy, eyes streaming as he bottomed out in her throat again and again.
He didn't let up until his legs started to shake. Then he pulled free, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to his glistening cock. "Strip," he ordered. She hesitated and he yanked her shirt open, buttons popping, tits spilling out. No bra. He pinched a nipple hard enough to make her yelp, then shoved her onto her back on the table.
Legs spread, skirt pushed up, panties ripped aside, he climbed between her thighs and fed his cock straight back into her mouth while he fingered her cunt.
She was soaked. He laughed low and dirty. "Knew you'd get wet choking on it." Two fingers pumped her while his dick stretched her lips wide. She came with a muffled cry, thighs shaking, and he didn't stop fucking her face through it. When he was ready he pulled out, jerked once, twice, and painted her tits and open mouth with thick ropes of cum. Some landed on her tongue. He made her swallow what she could, then rubbed the rest in with the head of his cock.
"Clean it," he said, and she licked him soft and slow, tasting salt and her own spit. He stayed hard. "We're not done." He flipped her over, bent her across the table, and sank into her from behind in one rough thrust. She cried out but pushed back, taking every inch. He pounded her hard, one hand in her hair, the other slapping her ass red. "Say it. Say you love sucking your son's cock."
She gasped, voice hoarse. "I love it. Fuck, I love sucking your cock." That pushed him over. He buried himself deep and came again, flooding her cunt while she shook through another orgasm, walls clenching around him.
Afterward he pulled out slow, watching his cum drip down her thighs. She stayed bent over the table, breathing hard, mouth swollen and shiny. He slapped her ass once more, lighter this time. "Same time tomorrow. And next time you beg for it."
She didn't answer, but the way her hips twitched said enough. He left her there, legs spread, used and dripping, already thinking about how he'd make her take it even deeper the next night.
