Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Mom Does Anything:>Ep61

I had stopped walking right inside the doorway, its lock driving home with a thunderbolt-like click that rattled my spine. Behind the glass wall to my right, a single stripper danced in a bright room whose lighting didn't shine into our room. She had a thicker body than the two girls in my room, with bigger tits and a small, black landing strip splitting her olive-toned muff. Behind her, the room had a single stripper's pole that she wasn't using as she stood sideways to us, her body curving like a snake's as she danced up and down.

No one said a word to me. The men didn't look at me. The strippers did, and I could see in their faces that they'd rather dance for me than the other two guys-- who had their fucking dicks out! I hurried to chair number three, my cock softening, and I sat and tried to hide my head behind the short wings of the recliner. Even with that precaution, I could still see chair number six and the blonde stripper dancing for her customer under the soft glow of electric sex. A seamless white door opened in the back wall of the room behind the glass. Big Tits stuck her head in, saying, "We got a showgirl who wants the stage." The words came through a speaker in the walls. The men around me perked up; the man in chair number one gave his old cock several harder strokes to straighten out his pecker. I didn't look, but it was impossible not to notice his motions from the peripherals of my vision, sitting at the center of the crescent as I was. The thick stripper left the room, and after a moment, Mom walked into the room. She was wearing nothing but a leather black bunny mask that left her lips, jaw, and the back of her head bare but covered her face from her nose to her hairline. My cock pushed hard against my jeans, forgetting all about the bums on either side of me.

Mom's body shined beneath the room's lights as though she had lathered her golden skin in a thin layer of oil. Her tan stood out darkly against her sunlight hair. I heard a pair of groans to my left and the smacking of a hand jerking a cock to my right. Mom's pubes lay matted to her mound. Definitely oiled, I thought as Mom turned her head from left to right, casting her eyes over our room.

"Can she see us?" I asked the strippers to my left, leaning forward so that I could look at them.

"No," the guy to my right said. "The view is one way, and that's one hot slut. Look at that fucking body."

"I wasn't asking you," I said.

He flinched, but his words and their meaning--the effect my mother had had on him and the two guys to my left, even the strippers--warmed my skin and sent a buzz of pride radiating outward from my chest that swelled my entire being. "That hot slut came here with me." A chill ran through me. "That hot slut is mine."

My mind blanked for a moment, and all I could hear was the echo of my statement, the words bringing an ache to my balls. That hot slut is mine. That hot slut was my mother, and she was mine. Why had I said that aloud? Why wasn't I punching the guy who called my mother a hot slut in the face? I groaned as I put my right hand on my cock, thinking, He wants what I have.

"Lucky you," the man to my right said, stroking himself harder as he focused on my mother and the way she stood, with her legs slightly parted and the crease of her muff pressed together, glistening with oil.

Mom is insane, I thought, my inner voice distant with a tremor of laughter running beneath it. Note to self: If your wife wants to get freaky in the bedroom, let her! Mom lifted her flesh-colored dildo to her mouth and turned sideways to us. Her little ass curved outward, not as much as Jenna's, but it wasn't flat, either. Mom had a tight tennis Mom's butt, and for a moment, I wished that she had kept her skirt on until she brought her dildo to her mouth and pushed the mushroom tip between her lips, which forced every thought I was about to have from my mind.

My mother didn't scarf the dick down like a slut; she dined on that fake cock like a queen. Her lips widened but stayed glued to the silicone as it disappeared into her mouth. She pushed it inward, and she pulled it outward, her new cock coming out wet and shiny, then going back in further than before, then coming out, then in--more of the cock disappearing, reaching the halfway point beyond her lips. Her cheeks puffed out, and she blew out a wad of air and spit, gagged, pulled out, and pushed back in, her tits shaking and her ass cheeks jiggling.

"Fuck me, this slut is beautiful," the man to my right said.

I didn't look at him, but inside... inside, my heart swelled with pride. Where was my anger? (I had some anger, but it wasn't pure anger.) Where was my need to punch this guy right in his throat? (I wanted to fuck my mom while he watched--I wanted him to wish he was me.) His voice held longing and desire and a distant tremor that sounded like regret that he'd never get to touch my mother, or any woman like her, in his life.

You like being envied, dickhead, my cock whispered to me. Your mom is yours. Take pride in her. Stroke your ego, then stroke me.

My dick was one-hundred-percent correct.

I rubbed myself through my jeans as Mom tilted her head back, gagged again, sputtered, spit, and pulled the cock from her mouth. After gasping, she looked at the mirror, her eyes seeming to replace me, and she took the cock down again. Her throat must have opened because she didn't gag as it slid into her mouth past the halfway point, her lips stretching as far as they could, like when she tried to take my cock into her mouth.

"Fuck me," someone to my left whispered.

Mom's breasts heaved, and she shook her head and wiggled her dildo, trying to force more down her throat. After a long minute, or two, she pulled it out and gagged again, coughing up thick wads of spit that dripped down her chin and onto her perfect, smallish tits.

"She's a cocksucker," the Right Guy said. "A tasty treat born to eat meat."

I looked at him. I wasn't mad, but I was ready to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he wasn't talking to me, not by the way he stared straight ahead as he stroked himself. His eyes were huge, and his voice was full of resonating awe. I left him alone and turned my eyes back to my mother and the gritty, pornographically surreal reality that surrounded us.