Fold Spindle and Mommy-rape Pt. 2 by DiscipleN
Dive into the provocative world of “Fold Spindle and Mommy-rape Pt. 2” by DiscipleN, where boundaries push and desires ignite. Experience a narrative filled with twisted passion and intense encounters that will leave you breathless. Indulge your fantasies and unlock a story that explores the depths of forbidden pleasure. Read on, if you dare.
A concerned mother rails on about the nation’s tolerance for incestuous rape. , Fold, Spindle, and Mommy Rape Part 2.
by DiscipleN
– all characters herein are 18 or older by the time they act sexually. –
Knocking woke me to Monday. “Mom? Are you okay? It’s nine AM.” Race sounded concerned.
For my work as an agent, I hired a desk from a local real estate office. I could come an go as much as I pleased. I wished I was already there. Race was late for school, though. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m more worried about you.”
“Then, go on to class. We’ll talk when you get back home.” I tried.
Several “tinks” sounded from the knob. He knew how to unlock it from the outside. I knew that he knew. I had hoped…
Race pushed the door open and walked in naked. “Hurry, Mom. I have to get dressed.”
“Huh?” I saw his erection. Proud and eager, it bobbed towards me. Under the sheet and blankets, I still wore the damp towel from the afternoon before. He tore at the bedding and hopped onto the mattress. His prick aimed at my eyes. “You need to be fed, Mom.” His hands grabbed my head and he punched cock into my lips. It meet clenched teeth.
“Ow! Mom. You hurt me!” He pretented the victim. His hands tightened their grip. “Open up. I don’t have time.”
I shook my head. I wanted to remind him how wrong this was, but I dared not open my mouth.
Then he surprised me. He leaned forward and kissed my lips, spitting into them. When I spat it back, his fingers pushed my cheeks between my teeth and forced my jaw open. Cock returned to it’s mother’s forced tongue. “God, your mouth feels better than yesterday!” He pumped his prick quickly.
To avoid suffocating again, I matched his thrusting with my breaths, in and out.
“Moan for me, Mom! Moan for me, like you did last time.”
I had NOT moaned. I had maybe groaned. It seemed like an important difference at the time. Less than twenty four hours had passed since having my son’s cock fuck my face for the first time. I slapped his arms with my hands, but mine had little strength. My anger was still asleep.
Race lasted a minute, maybe two before unloading his balls into my mouth. I doubt he had tried to hold back. He wanted to get to school. Why now, I wondered. He was a fair student but had never been eager to go. Did something about raping his mommy’s lips and throat promote academic attendance?
Once again I choked on his semen. He pushed deep with his prick and poured the stuff down my neck. The little I tasted was slightly better without my retch fluid. I had managed his raping dick without suffocating. Pulling out, he told me again. “You should lick up what you didn’t swallow.”
I frowned. He smiled and stretched a finger to my cheeks and chin. He dumped his escaped seed into the hole he had intended. “You’ll have to shower, this time, Mom. I’ve gotta go.”
I cried in the shower. He hadn’t even given me a chance to explain how wicked his actions were, how un-godly, and how forceful he was becoming. I resolved to fight whatever demon had possessed my son. I read the bible all day.
I knew exactly when he would return from school. When Race was in a hurry home, it took exactly twenty three minutes from when the last bell rang. I waited inside the door, bible in one hand, a wooden spoon in the other. I had been making cookies, and I wasn’t aware of holding the spoon. I had spotted the clock just in time and had raced to the door. The lock clicked and the door swung in.
“Oh, good!” He smiled. His arms went for a hug. I stepped back, but not far enough. “Mmm, Mom. It’s good to be home. And you were waiting for me!” He hugged me gently. I blinked, trying to recompose my righteousness.
“Son, we need to talk. I believe you have succumbed to-”
“Sure, Mom.” He saw the bible. “Did you want to pray? Get on your knees.”
“Yes!” I brightened. Maybe he had considered his evil. He knelt slightly. “Let us pray, to rid this curse from you.” My smiled beamed hope at him, and my knees touched the carpet before his.”
“Oops! The door.” He spun around and closed it. Pray was a private matter, I agreed. If forced to in public, one must not be ashamed to show true faith.
“Oh, heavenly Father.” I began. I heard a zipper. He turned back to me. His cock swung like a baseball bat. I dodged away.
“Pray to me, Mom. It’ll be good practice for when you really are my slave.” He slapped me. “But never, EVER, say ‘father’!”
His attack stunned me long enough to find my son’s prick plunging once more into my mouth, his hands pressing the back of my head. This time he had betrayed God. That hurt more than his raping cock. Still, I didn’t cry. I had to survive my son’s fresh assault. I had to breathe, I told myself. Sobs would disturb my timing.
I discovered that by tightening my lips at the right time and pressing on the underside of my boy’s retreating prick, I could fine tune his fucking of my face. He could dig deeper into my gullet and I could pull in more air than the first two times.
“Ohhh, That’s it, Mom, tongue me and suck me!” Race delighted. This time he tried to hold out. His prick stabbed beyond my tongue for nearly four minutes before he howled with glee. “Uuunnnngggghh!!! YEAAAAH!” His cock pressed hard, and his cum blasted down my throat. “Cuummmmiingg, Moooomm!!!”
This time, there wasn’t any sperm on my face for him to wipe into my mouth. I had hardly tasted any of it. He wasn’t phased. “Tasted good, I bet. Huh, Mom?”
This was my first chance in two days. “Race, those books are worse than fairy tales. You can’t turn women into cum sluts!”
“I know. I know, Mom” He pushed his withering, shining dick into his pants and zipped up. “Just like that book couldn’t turn Dad into a nice man.”
Our bible remained clenched in my left hand. He left me staring at it.
“That felt really good, Mom.” Were his parting words.
After baking the cookies, I ate one. The Holy Bible was now their trivet. I left the kitchen and knocked on Race’s door.
“What is it? I’m studying.”
I’d never caught my boy studying. His father would threaten to beat him, but that was years ago. I guess I had assumed Race studied. It’s just that I rarely visited when he was in his room.
“I won’t bother you, then.”
“Those cookies smell pretty great.”
“Do you want one?”
“Do you have one?” I guessed he didn’t want me to bother him again, if I didn’t.
“Yes.” I turned the door knob and entered holding up a saucer with two warm treats.
Race sat at his small desk, a paperback book lay on it. He couldn’t have been more than two or three chapters in. Taking up a quarter of his room, a worn Sousaphone waited on its stand.
“I’ll set these here.” I placed the saucer on the closest corner. His hand grabbed my wrist!