TABOO TALES(erotica)

She recalled how she’d had no choice but to finger-fuck herself. How he’d drenched both of her swollen nipples with the cream from her pussy. Unable to control herself, she stuck out her tongue to taste a bit of the semen, amazed at the enormous quantity. She remembered how Matt had forced her to masturbate until she’d climaxed, pumping her long middle finger into her grasping pussy. Of course, she would never have obeyed him if she’d not been overmedicated. She extended her tongue and lapped up a larger amount, sweet and not too salty. Licking her lips, she realized it was already 7:30 am and that Matthew must have overslept.

Janice entered his bedroom and called, “Matt, you’re late for work!” He awoke like a shot, concerned about getting into trouble at his summer job. He glanced quickly at his mother. She must not have known that dried spots of his cum anointed her cute nose and high cheekbones. Her lips were encrusted as well. Adrenals pumping, he threw off the covers, forgetting that he was naked. Janice saw his thick, golden cock for the first time in years. The view of his semi-hard penis was perversely exciting. Mother and son remained motionless for several long seconds as his dick twitched. She realized he was controlling her, manipulating her into staring at his penis.

Matt smiled at her, glanced at his alarm clock and jumped out of bed, running past his mother to the bathroom. Janice watched his tight rear as he rushed down the hall, impressed with the sight of his tanned, lean body.

The sight of his cock, swinging semi-hard as he bolted past her, reminded her how she’d opened her eyes a few minutes ago to the degrading sight and pungent aroma of his semen drenching her panties, semen that came from the same cock she’d just seen and lusted after. She wondered if he’d left the panties in that position on her bed accidentally or on purpose. The possibility that he’d done it intentionally aroused her.

She was in the kitchen when he dashed in, grabbed a bagel and quart of orange juice, and ran out the door. “Thanks for waking me, Mom!”

Over breakfast, Janice realized she was no longer confident that things would stop by themselves. Last night had been an outrageous session of S/M. She had to put an end to it, right away.

After breakfast, because he’d overslept, she went upstairs to straighten his room, which she was happy to do because Matthew was usually very good about doing it himself in the morning. As soon as she walked around to the far side of his bed, she gasped. The floor was littered with several dozen photos, photos that she had taken of herself a month ago.

On a Saturday night a couple of weeks ago, lonely and tipsy from a couple of glasses of wine, she’d read the instructions on how to use her camera’s self-timer, put on an assortment of new lingerie, and spent an hour shooting herself in her bedroom in a variety of erotic poses. She had enjoyed herself, beginning with standard cheesecake postures and becoming increasingly lewd. She never removed her black bra, panty, garter and stocking set, or heels, but toward the end she’d assumed increasingly filthy poses, such as kneeling with a dildo propped against her pussy, or kneeling with her ass toward the camera, panties taut against her beautiful ass, shoulders on the bed, looking back at the lens suggestively.

For the final sequence, she drank more wine and moved the tripod and camera into her bathroom, stepped into the shower stall, set the timer and poured heavy cream over her face so that it cascaded onto her bra as the shutter snapped, repeating the idea down her back so the cream coursed over her panty-covered ass.

Matthew had found the photos in her dresser drawer. Humiliated, she squatted to pick up the photos with her back against the bed for support, pleased at how hot she looked. Then she realized they were covered with fresh semen. Suddenly her anger was gone, replaced by a rush of feeling in her cunt, spread wide as she squatted. Fascinated, she dipped a pinky into one splash and touched the tip of her tongue to her finger, but there wasn’t enough on her finger to get enough of a taste.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

She dragged her pointer finger through the thick puddle on another shot and licked off the goo, which was still slightly warm, unlike the big cold load on her panties on her bed. This spunk tasted different than her former husband’s, less salty, richer and sweeter. It had been a long time since she’d had any. . . .

Remembering how her nipples had felt, crushed in the slats, and unable to stop herself, she scooped up more of Matt’s thick cum from the remaining photos, luxuriating in the taste. She visualized the different things he’d done to her and pictured his thick, semi-hard cock swaying as he stood up from his bed and ran to the bathroom. She drew a dripping finger along her pussy and inserted the tip into her cunt, remembering how he’d forced her fingers into her slit. But now she wanted more lubrication. She scooped up a large clump and shoved her finger in, up to the second joint.

She repeated this with two fingers until there was no more cum on the photos, and then plunged three fingers all the way inside her well-lubricated channel, her thumb abusing her big clit. She had pushed so much cum up her cunt that her two fingers forced much of it out. She scooped up the overflow and rubbed it across her nether hole. It felt so good she gathered more cum and inserted her middle finger in her rosebud beyond the second knuckle. Recalling all the ways that he’d hurt her breasts and nipples, tied her, fingered her, humiliated her, and used her juices as an ointment for her burning nipples, she pumped away with both fingers until she came, screaming joyously to the empty house.

After calming down to normal, she noticed the lake of cum which had gushed out of her pussy. She couldn’t leave it, she had to clean it up, so she scooped it into her mouth, savoring the hot cream. She decided to leave the photos exactly as they were, so Matthew would not be embarrassed. She was actually proud that her amateur photos had turned out so well that they’d been a turn-on to a guy. And there was no guy she loved, admired or was more obedient to than her sexy son. Dreamily, she dressed for the gym and spent the entire time working out wondering what new obedience Matthew would impose on her.

Matt returned at lunchtime. Since it was Graduation Day, he only had to work during the morning. At lunch, Janice announced a pool party for that afternoon, just the two of them. Being outside would make it a normal, relaxing time together. She’d gone clothes shopping and purchased swimsuits for them both. She handed Matt his gift. He unwrapped his present, expecting to find a pair of oversized, boxy trunks. Instead, they were black, Euro-style bikini briefs for men. “Mother, none of the guys wear these. I’d be embarrassed to wear them in public.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to wear them in public. They’re just for wearing at home with me. Besides, the sales clerk said it’s what all the guys wear on the nude beaches in France.”

“In France, huh? Well, okay. But you better be wearing something good as well,” he said a little threateningly. They agreed to meet at poolside at 2:00 pm wearing their new items. Matt spent the next hour thinking about how it would go and what he might get away with. He understood she was a flagrant exhibitionist. He wondered if she craved constant humiliation. He knew she had got off on his torturing her nipples last night. He was determined that she jerk him off and bet she was fabulous at it.

And he wanted to fill her cunt with something larger than her own finger. Suddenly he had an inspiration and found her bottle of thick, white sun block. It was a 6-inch plastic cylinder with a large, bullet-shaped head. Nothing could look more phallic-except for an actual dildo. He took the bottle out to the table, along with two small, round bowls that he filled with sun block, leaving them to bake in the fierce sun.

At 2:00 pm, he went outside, feeling uncomfortable in the tight suit. Janice was already sunning herself in a chaise lounge by the table, wearing the briefest black bikini he’d ever seen and sweating. Thin black laces connected three minuscule triangles, lying tautly on her glistening flesh. A pitcher of ice tea and glasses stood on the table. He set down several pairs of black leather shoelaces, watching her bulging breasts strain against the thin, tight, abbreviated top.

“Mother, you look great in that outfit!” The black bikini made her cropped black hair look even more lustrous.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” She sat up in the chair, hanging her legs over the sides, excited by how handsome his muscular, bare chest looked and how tight were the tiny briefs. In order not to stare at the bulge beneath his briefs, she drank deeply from one of the glasses. He noted how the tiny triangle of material dug into her slit and felt himself grow harder. “You don’t think it’s too small?” she asked, gazing up at him, secure about being outside where the neighbors could easily peek over or peer through the fence and see them.

“No, you look incredibly hot!”

“You look great as well, dear.” She poured him a large glass and proposed a toast. “To being together during your last summer before college.” They drank, although she swallowed much more than he did.

“Whew, that’s strong! What’s in it?”

“Just ice tea with rum. Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, it’s delicious.” He picked up the bottle of sun block and held it between his legs like a cock. “We don’t want you to burn, do we?” He squirted a stream of thick white lotion onto her abdomen and aimed the bottle lower till the white splatter ended right at her bikini bottom. Both realized the degrading implication. “Rub it in,” he said. She took a quick drink and obeyed him, smearing the thick cream into her taut belly until it glistened.

He shot a quick stream onto her upper thighs, again ending just short of the bikini. She worked it in, wondering where he was going next. “Are you going to do the top of my chest next?” she asked softly.

“Not exactly. You see, there’s a problem. I’m dressed the way the guys are on the French Riviera, but you’re not.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, flustered.

“You know what I mean. All the women are topless in France.”

“Oh. But I can’t do that. Especially not in broad daylight.”