But that’s not all. With these worsening thoughts traversing through my brain, I’m getting more and more turned on with each thought that passes. And the music isn’t exactly helping my case. It’s just making the scenarios in my thoughts more sensual. But I can’t stop it.
I shouldn’t be having these vulgar thoughts or these perverted feelings. That’s my mom. My creator. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t right. But why can’t I stop it? And why is it making me feel even better knowing that I shouldn’t be having these thoughts or these feelings?
With every moment that passes, I feel my member testing the limits of my pants. The discomfort of my flesh pushing against my clothing is just too much. I need to take care of it. I sigh, giving in to my intrusive desires and sliding my pants down my legs, freeing my erect aching shaft. I bring a hand to it, lightly stroking it as the subtle music plays through my headphones. I keep my eyes shut, just letting my mind run as I jerk myself.
As expected, mom appears in my mind, smirking at me as she watches me rub my cock. As she does, the pleasure grows. Just the thought of her watching me sends jolts of pleasure throughout my body. It’s so wrong, but it’s so good.
I then imagine her reaching her hand out and taking over, guiding her hand up and down the length of my member. It’s even slightly starting to feel like her hand replaced mine. I let out a soft gasp as I savor mom’s touch on my dick, slightly speeding up her strokes. She locks eye contact with me as she continues her actions, inching her mouth closer and close to the tip of my cock.
With every advancement she makes, the more my cares for how wrong this is starts slipping. This is only just a thought, after all. Everyone has these kinds of thoughts, right? It’s perfectly fine as long as they remain that way. I’d never act upon this. Not in a million years. I’d never strip naked in front of my mother. That’d just be awkward. I’d also never have her stroke my cock like this. No one in their right mind would ever want that to be a possibility of happening. And I’d definitely never allow her mouth anywhere near it. I don’t even think I’d enjoy the sight of that very much.
But right as I have that thought, mom giggles before opening her mouth and wrapping her lips around the head of my shaft, giving it a small suck as she continues her strokes. Fuck, that was kinda-…no. No. That was just a figment of my imagination. My uncontrollable imagination, might I add. It’s not real. This isn’t real. This isn’t hot. This isn’t sexy by any means.
She then leans down again, this time taking more of me in her mouth, lightly and slowly bobbing her head up and down my length. As she worships my cock, she looks up at me, giving me a coy grin. I moan slightly louder as she takes me into her mouth. Shit, that feels so good.
Ok, ok, whatever. It’s just my thoughts. If my mind wants to find this sexy, then there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not real. It’s just my hand. Nothing about this is too weird.
She then manages to slide all the way down to the base of my shaft, slightly speeding up her bobbing. I moan even more as she swallows my cock. It feels so fucking good. She looks so damn sexy. That’s it. Take it. Take your daughter’s cock deep in your fucking throat.
Wait. What am I thinking? That’s not what I meant. No. That’s just more intrusive thoughts. They weren’t my words. I didn’t say that. That was just the deepest recesses of my mind. So with that being said, if it were just so happen to be said again, I can rest assured that I’m not at fault for it being said, right?
She sucks harder, speeding up her pace even faster, earning louder moans from me as I arch my back. Yes. Yes. Suck on it, mommy. Fuck, it feels so good. I love it so much. Please, don’t stop.
Minutes pass of me savoring the feeling of mom’s throat on my cock. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this. No one compares to her. Leave it to a mom to have the best sex with you. It’s what they do.
I eventually feel myself reaching my limit closer and closer with each descent, moaning louder and louder. I don’t even care if I’m being too loud. It feels to good. Mommy’s making me feel so good. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t let her know how good she’s making me feel?
After a few more moments of her sucking me, I let out one last moan before shooting my cum deep inside of her throat, moaning as rope after rope of my essence pours down her throat. She unsurprisingly swallows all of it with no problems, sucking the last drops of my milk before popping me out of her mouth and giving my cock a kiss. She giggles before blowing me a kiss, winking at me, and fading out of existence, presenting me with my cum coated hand and a small pool of my cum on my sheets.
I lay back on my bed, groaning at myself as I see the mess I’ve made. How could I be that careless? Nevermind that, how could I be that gross? I just envisioned my mom sucking me off. And I liked it. What’s wrong with me? You know what? Nothing. Nothing at all is wrong with me. It’s all just intrusive thinking. Just secluded thoughts that stay within your mindset and no one else’s. No one gets hurt and you never have to worry about acting upon it because it’s too outlandish to do so. So I’m perfectly fine. It’s perfectly natural.
And speaking of acting upon something, I should probably take these sheets to the washer. It’s probably not good to leave it here with jizz on it. So I put on my pants and get out of bed before taking my sheets off the bed and heading over to the laundry room. Seeing that the washer’s already running, I place my sheets in the basket and turn to head back out.
“Excuse me,” I hear, feeling mom squeeze in the room behind me, “Just need to put this here. There we go.”
I step out of the room to give her more space, turning to look at her. But once I do, I’m instantly turned on again. Probably more than I was a few minutes ago. Because before me is my mother bending over to push her clothes in the basket in her overshirt. Just her overshirt.
“You spill something on your sheets already?” she asks, “I thought you just cleaned them yesterday.”
“U-uh-…y-yeah,” I utter out, not able to turn away from the view, “You know me. Just a cluts sometimes.”
“Eh, it’s not your fault. You get it from mommy, after all. You just can’t help it, can you.”
She pulls my blanket out of the basket, curiously looking at it, unknowingly sendin my heart to my stomach by doing so. Why is she looking at it? What if she asks me why it’s so cum-stained? How am I supposed to explain that? Oh, God.
“So what exactly was this?” she asks, obsercing the fluid, “Did you spill a drink or something?”
“U-uhh…yes? Yes,” I reply, “Yes, it was just a drink that I got. A weird smoothie. I wouldn’t reccommend it. It was really bad. Just…ugh.”
“Hmm. You don’t say.”
She then completely takes me off guard by taking my blanket and dragging her tongue across it, licking up my fluids. This sends an unfamiliar feeling coursing through my veins. She didn’t just do that. I could not have seen that right. Wait, is she…smiling?