An adult stories – My Mother's Wicked Game by WendyTrilby,WendyTrilby This standalone taboo tale is a side story of my series called Portmanteau.
This side story, and others like it, cover far more taboo genres than my work in the Erotic Couplings category. Please review the tags so there are no unexpected actions outside your comfort zone. I assure you this story will go places you might not expect.”
TAGS: Anal Sex, Blowjob, Hairy Pussy, Mother, Mom, Incest, Mother Son, Mature, Swallowing, Pegging, Nipples, Creampie, Loud sex, Ass play, Sex Toys, Cunnilingus, MILF, Mature
Mother’s Wicked Game: The Wicked Wendie Weckenstein
Mrs. Weckenstein entered the hotel room and looked at the bed where her conquest waited obediently. Her rock-hard nipples were impossible to hide as she arrived already charged up for action. She poured herself a substantial glass of scotch, then admired herself in the mirror as she drank it.
She was a beautiful woman in her late forties. Her level of sophistication was evident in the knee-length taupe, single-breasted jacket dress from Saks, which she wore with refined elegance.
The man in the room was young, perhaps 20 years old. He walked up behind her and lifted her dress to reveal her elegant lingerie covering her tight round ass. The lace and satin tanga sat beneath an elegant garter belt attached to stockings with straps.
His hands moved across her ass, feeling its firmness. He then reached around the front of the dress, undid four buttons, and the jacket dress fell away, revealing her mature body with firm tear-drop breasts clad in a black satin and lace balconette. The two made eye contact via the mirror before them. She nodded approval for him to continue.
Keeping his body behind her, he kissed her neck as his hands explored her thighs, then moved to her stomach and aggressively into her panties. He roughly inserted three fingers inside her watering slit. She arched back at the attack grinding her ass into his crotch, massaging his growing bulge beneath his jeans.
“He almost saw Mrs. Weckenstein this time,” she whispered seductively. “You know what that does for me.”
She leaned on the counter while he violently pulled her panties down, causing the garters to snap loudly. He found himself staring at the perfect ass of a middle-aged man who didn’t work out, yet she was blessed with a nearly perfect figure.
Taking his pants down to his knees, the young man grabbed his cock, stroked it once, pushed her forward so her ass flared, and ran his thickness up and down her ass over her flared starfish, which puckered and beckoned the young man’s cock to enter.
But that was for later. For now, the young man adjusted, and the tip of his phallus hunted for the split of her dark full bush, seeking the entrance to her warmth. With a push, he slid in slowly. Her growing wetness trickled from her pussy as she smiled with pleasure.
“Mmmmmm. Mrs. Weckenstein has trained you well,” she whispered.
“Yes, you have,” he whispered in her ear.
The young man increased cadence, changing the copulation from lovemaking to fucking as her pussy made a moist fapping sound.
He looked down to enjoy the view of his penis engulfed in her air-tight labia, watching its elastic skin stretch out and in with each pull and push. Her pussy’s grip felt like a hand wrapped around his girth, gently masturbating him to a glorious finish.
Mrs. Weckenstein let out a long low moan, the kind we do in hotel rooms where we know we can be heard and want to ensure we are.
“I’m going to cum” he exclaimed as his face reddened.
It was evident she was cumming too.
“Yes, baby, cum for Mrs. Weckenstein. Fill me,” she demanded loudly.
The young man’s cock unloaded its semen deep inside the mature woman. She could feel it filling her pussy as he pumped away, frothing it into a cream.
Her orgasm came from the feeling of his ejaculation and the excitement of the moment. With his first orgasm out of the way, she knew she would control the young man by edging him to several orgasms over the next 12 hours.
_____________________________________________
It was late fall in 1990, I don’t remember the exact date, but I’m sure I could look it up. I remember Rutgers was in town for a football game and the campus was abuzz with activity. Around midday, I went to Hungry Charlies for drinks with a few of the guys from my frat. Nothing was better than an afternoon football game with a strong beer buzz. The campus was packed, the sororities were partying, and the odds of getting laid tonight increased exponentially after the game.
It was almost game time, and the bars emptied with everyone heading to the stadium. Walking with my frat brothers, I spotted an attractive woman a block away. She was standing alone, smoking a cigarette. The crowds were thick, and my view of her was repeatedly obscured, but I could have sworn the woman was my mother. But that wasn’t possible. She and my father were at home on Long Island.
I walked on, then turned back to see her off in the distance walking into the University Sheraton Hotel against the crowds heading to the game.
I couldn’t see her face from behind, but it had to be my mother. No one had that incredible sense of style and look. Still, it made no sense. Were my parents in town to surprise me?
I told my frat brothers I’d catch up to them and headed toward the Sheraton. Inside, the lobby was chaotic, and I could not find the mysterious woman. Rethinking the situation, I determined it couldn’t possibly be her.
I walked to the desk and asked the clerk for Judge Andrew Weckenstein’s room. They assured me there was no Andrew Weckenstein checked in the hotel.
“How about Wendie Weckenstein?” I asked.
The clerk nodded and said. “Yes, we have Mrs. Weckenstein. Would you like to leave her a message?”
I was stunned. When I asked for her room number, the clerk would not supply it, citing hotel policy.
“I’m her son,” I replied, pulling out my driver’s license to prove we had the same last name.
“Oh, well, we can bend the rules a little. After all, your brother is already here.”
“My brother?” I asked, bewildered. I don’t have a…” I paused and decided I needed to get to the room. “18433,” the desk clerk said.
I rode the elevator up to the 18th and walked down the hall until I came to the room. I was about to knock on the door when I heard a familiar sound. It was the sound of a woman getting laid and enjoying every inch of her impalement. I knew the voice, and I knew the sound. My mother never held back when she and my dad fucked. She was a notorious moaner, and her choice of words could make a sailor blush.
When I turned 18, I moved into the spare bedroom below my parent’s room because I enjoyed listening to her groan and moan as my dad fucked her often and mercilessly. Sometimes I jacked myself off to her pleasure sounds. So yes, I knew what my mother sounded like when she orgasmed.
I leaned in to listen to the sex sounds. With each moan, my cock became increasingly rigid, remembering some of my hand sessions listening to her in the room above me.
“Mmmmmm. Mrs. Weckenstein’s trained you well.” I could hear her say through the door.
I often thought she liked to cum loudly just for me to hear. She was notoriously manipulative, and I knew she got off by pushing my buttons.
My heart raced as she was getting close to coming. I had never heard her refer to herself in the third person. But it was hot and turned me on. In my mind, I imagined my father trying his best to punish her pussy. My mom was extremely attractive, in her late 40s, and still looked like a wife who belonged on a trophy shelf.
I leaned closer, putting my ear to the door, and her voice was much more apparent when she said, “Yes, baby, cum for Mrs. Weckenstein. Fill me,” she demanded loudly.
There it was again. Mrs. Weckenstein? If she and my dad were doing some role-playing, I should probably be leaving, I thought to myself.
I then realized my cock was rising as I listened to passionate sounds, which soon culminated in a loud dual orgasm inside the hotel room.
Then silence. I could hear some shuffling inside and someone approaching the door, and I quickly retreated a few doors down. The room door opened and out walked a man my age wearing a robe and holding an ice bucket.
I knew the guy. It was my roommate Grant.
I had to process what I was seeing. My roommate Grant had just exited a hotel room where I heard my mother getting laid. What the fuck was he doing here? Was my mother fucking my roommate? How was that possible?
He put the door latch in the door to keep it from locking behind him. As he went down the long hall, I went to the door and went inside.
I had no plan and no idea what I was doing. The bed was still made. Apparently, they had fucked standing up. The room smelled of sex, but my mother was not there. I must have heard wrong and turned to leave. Just then, I heard the sound of someone peeing.
“That was a lot of cum,” the familiar voice said. “I hope I can pee it all out.
I walked to the open bathroom door to see my naked mother sitting on the toilet, peeing and wiping cum off her full black bush. She looked up at me with confusion.
Her strong stream of pee shut off abruptly.
Then a calm coolness that only she possessed took over.
“Barry,” she said flatly.
“Hi, Mom,” I replied, “in town for the game or just to fuck my roommate?”
She was caught. She was so cold busted. But she was so fucking shrewd.
“You should have called first,” she said as she stood. Some of her pee dribbled down her leg, and she did not attempt to dab it up.
Despite the insanity of the moment, I was caught off guard looking at her naked body. I had seen glimpses through open doors and spying on her sunbathing over the years. Any missing details had been filled in with my imagination.
Her body was tight and toned, although I had never seen her make any attempt to work out. Her breasts were a perfect teardrop, and her rose-red nipples were large and engorged, no doubt from the adrenaline of her son busting her or perhaps from the massive orgasm she just enjoyed.
“Would you like me to explain?” she said as she walked toward me.
“That you’re fucking my roommate?” I replied incredulously.
“I have needs. Grant fills those needs,” she said.
“I’m going to ask again. Are you fucking my roommate?”
As if on cue, the door reopened, and Grant came into the room oblivious to the situation.
“Please don’t put more than one ice cube in my…” Grant froze when he saw me, “…asshole,” he finished.
“Hey, Grant. Tonight, when we’re back in our dorm room, maybe you don’t tell me about the girl you were fucking during the football game.
“You told him about our lovemaking?” My mom asked Grant with concern.
“No, he told me about your fucking,” I corrected her.
“I didn’t say who it was. Just a sorority girl from Alpha Gamma,” Grant said in defense. “Which is kind of true. She was in that sorority 25 years ago.”
“Grant, Mrs. Weckenstein needs you to shut up right now,” Mom said. There it was again–another third-person reference.
Grant nodded in agreement, wishing he could be anywhere but here.
Mom moved to the mini bar, poured three glasses of scotch, and handed one to each of us. She did not attempt to dress or hide her nudity.
“Take the drink. Let’s reset and talk about this like adults.”
I put the drink down to continue with my litany of gripes. Mom’s face got serious.
“Your mother said drink your fucking scotch,” she said with the scolding tone of my childhood that would scare me into cleaning my room.
I swallowed the liquor, which burned. Added to my pre-game beers, my head swirled. I was a little drunk and a lot enraged.
“You ask questions. I’ll give honest answers,” she said. She drained her drink in a single gulp and poured another.
Grant sipped at his, reacting to the strength of the spirit.
“When did this start?” I asked
“Parents’ weekend,” she replied.
“How does Dad not know?”
“He does. He was here when we first fucked. He was pretending to be blacked out. It was a special treat for him to watch me and a younger man.”
“Wait. He was awake that night?” Grant queried.
“Yes, Grant. But let’s let Barry have the floor right now,”
“Watch out for her, Grant. She loves fucking with people. Christ, I need a better adjective. Don’t fall for her game. She always gets what she wants.”
“Too late,” Grant said. “I think I’m in love with her,” he said quietly.
“What did I say? What was my only demand? Don’t fall in love with me, you idiot,” Mom told her boy toy.
“I’ll have to take the blame for some of this,” she continued.
She pointed to Grant. “You should not have fallen in love with me.”
She then pointed at me, “And you should not be creeping around listening to my hotel room door.”
“Which part of the blame do you take?” I asked.
“Not covering my tracks better. You boys are like sons to me,” she replied.
“I am your son!” I said a little too loud. “I’m just the son who did not get a chance to fuck you.”
“Is that what this is about? Do you want to fuck me?” she asked.
“No, well, maybe, but no. Well, maybe; I mean, I’ve had fantasies like all guys.”
I could not believe the words that were coming from my mouth. She had been at the core of most of my fantasies, but I had never said it out loud. Now she was standing nude before me, her lover in the room, and I had somehow admitted to my desire to try the last taboo.
“I don’t fantasize about my mother,” Grant said.
“Why would you? You’re too busy fucking mine,” I fired back.
“It’s okay to fantasize about me, baby,” My mother told me.
She smiled with pride. My dad may have been the high-powered ex-attorney, but Mom just cross-examined me into admitting my desire to fuck her. She had me and knew it. My cock went so stiff in the jeans that I had to adjust myself in front of her.
The weight of everything was overwhelming, and I had to sit on the bed or pass out.
My Mom came over to me, sat uncomfortably close, and handed me her glass of scotch.
“I should leave,” I said. “You two do whatever you’re doing, and I’ll sort it out someday in therapy.”
“I want you to stay,” she said with a gentle whisper putting her hand on my leg for reassurance.
“To watch you fuck Grant? No thanks.”
“Grant, Mrs. Weckenstein wants you to leave now,” she said dismissively.
“But we were going to-,” he began.
“Things have changed. You crossed the line.”
Grant began to gather his clothes, slowly getting dressed, hoping my mother would tell him to stop and do to him whatever the fuck she had promised him.
“What did I say the first time we fucked?” she asked.
“Not to fall in love with you.”
“That’s right,” she replied.
“I’m sorry, but I could not help it. I just-”
“You’ll get over me. But this is done.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weckenstein,” Grant said sadly as he finished getting dressed and left.
Grant left without so much as getting a kiss goodbye.
“Why do I feel so bad for him?” I asked, “That’s so fucked up.”
It was just my mother and me sitting on the bed. I took another drink of her scotch.
“I always knew when you watched me sunbathing from the guest room.”
Fuck me, I thought. She knew I would run to the guest bedroom because it overlooked the pool to watch her worship the sun topless.
She slowly moved her hand along my thigh.
“I liked knowing you were watching me,” she whispered in my ear, “it made me wet, just like now.”
My cock stiffened quickly and got stuck against the tightness of my jeans. I had to awkwardly squirm to free it.
“W…W…W…Wet?” I said with a stutter.
Mom smiled as she took her left hand and slowly slid it down her stomach across her dark bush, and I watched it disappear into her hair-covered slit. I gulped in awe at her hypnotic move. Her fingers creased her dark bush revealing the pink rose petals of her labia.
“What are you…” I could not finish my sentence as she took her glistening finger from her pussy, slowly brought it to my lips, then coated them with her velvet gloss.
She then watched and waited for what seemed like hours. Finally, I could resist no longer and licked my lips to savor her taste.
Only then did she place her hands under each of her breasts, cupped them firmly, and held them out toward me, offering me the prospect of suckling them.
My heartbeat quickened. The room was getting hot. I knew I had to leave. I could no longer stay with her but found myself leaning toward her. I found the warmth of her breast flesh in my mouth as my tongue caressed her nipple and let her nurse me. She closed her eyes with pleasure from my weakness and her ability to win.
I could sense the joy my tongue provided the nerve endings in her nipples as they thickened in my mouth and the tips dimpled inward. I could feel the bumps on her wide areolas.
She held my head and let me engulf her nipple while petting and stroking my hair. While still suckling her tits, I placed my hand on her flat stomach wanting to move it into her pussy, wanting to feel her clit, longing for her warmth. She could sense my desire as well as my hesitancy.
Mom placed a hand behind my head, then pulled me up from her breasts and in close for a soft sensual, open-mouth kiss where she probed me hungrily with my tongue. It was not a typical mother-son kiss, not by a long shot.
She whispered, “You know how this will end, right?”
I had only kissed and fondled her; it should have ended there. I stood up. I should have found the courage to leave, but I was a prisoner to her passion.
I got off the bed, but she reached out and pulled me toward her so my waist was in front of her face.
She seductively ran her hands across my stomach and gently unbuttoned my jeans. With each button, she would kiss and lick the exposed flesh. After two buttons, the glans of my penis was exposed. She gently licked the blunt tip, savoring the salty taste, another two buttons, and it sprang free. She gripped my cock in her hand, giving it a gentle tug up and down, seemingly pleased at my size and arousal,
I pulled her hand away with some doubts. It was a panic response. Could I meet her expectations? Her next move was devious.
She finished opening my jeans, pulled them down then began to massage my cock with long slow strokes. I stepped out of my jeans, naked from the waist down, as my mother crossed yet another line and descended on my prick with her mouth.
Licking the shaft and then swirling her tongue around the head. The warmth of her mouth and the suction she created were dizzying. I wanted to cum then and there, just dump my load in her mouth, but she predicted my moves and excitement and backed off.
“Mommy needs you to slow down, baby,” she said as she pulled herself to her knees and brought me in for more deep probing kisses.
“Lay down. I want to feed you,” she whispered.
I removed my shirt, now fully naked; I obediently lay back on the bed, stroking my erect cock.
My mother straddled my chest in a reverse cowgirl stance so her magnificent ass was on my chest and in my face. My view was her slender back, her pale anus, her manicured perineum, and black-haired pussy. Her soaked snatch left a trail of her wetness on my skin as she scooched her ass toward my face.
She then leaned forward and began to lick my stomach, putting her mouth just inches from my cock.
This move raised her pussy directly over my head but out of reach from my tongue. Her entry was now over my face, and I could smell her inviting essence. I breathed in deeply, inhaling her pussy’s fragrance which raced to my balls, swelling them with anticipate
She then ran two fingers in her pussy, readying it for me to taste. Her thick, rich juices created a syrupy glycerin coating that held her pussy lips closed.
“Do you like eating pussy,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said between deep gasps.
She gently parted her labia minora, and a thick viscous drip of her pussy fluids gathered on her clit until gravity caused it to drip down to my tongue in a long stringy rope. I savored her flavor. It was only a taste, but I wanted more, and she provided it.
She lowered her pussy to my face burying it in her thick fur until my tongue and nose were against her labia and clit. She thrust her hips pushed back and buried my mouth and nose in her wet pleasure.
“How good does Mommy taste, baby?” she said in a husky voice.
She tasted of sweat from her heat, of brine from her urine, and of the sweet-salty flavor of…oh shit, I realized it now, Grant’s cum.
Holding my face inside her pussy she wanted me to taste her other lover. She was marking me like an animal marks territory. Letting me know I was hers, but she was not mine.
She leaned forward, allowing me to catch a breath, then backed her pussy into my face getting herself wetter by the second.
“You’re making Mommy so moist,” she whispered as she leaned forward and licked the tip of my glans, teasing me with a 69 that only went to 67.
Before me, I saw the pinkness of her vagina, which emanated a volcanic heat making her juices burn as they ran down my face.
Her perineum and the tempting rear hole had been waxed in anticipation of her tryst, allowing me to see her puckernut as it pulsed open and closed with each lap at her pussy. I wasn’t sure if she was into anal, but the fine grooming of the depths of her ass seemed to indicate she was.
I decided to test her limits and let my tongue drift across her knot. Immediately I could taste her darker flavors. It was a taste of Earth, cinnamon, and molasses. Sweet, but forbidden.
She writhed from my exploration but did not attempt to dissuade my quest. As much as I wanted to continue to explore her dark side, I needed to feel my cock inside her.
We continued the position for a few minutes, but we both knew what we wanted, the opportunity for her warmth and my erection to meet.
She rolled off me, then sat me up and gently nibbled at my nipples while running her hand approvingly across my chest and abs.
I gently pushed on her back and rolled over to be on top of her. I moved toward her tits which I suckled gently, looking up at her face as she nodded in approval of what I needed to do next.
Directly on top of her. She pulled me in and began to lick her copious nectars from my face. She loved her taste, and I could tell she loved tasting it from me.
My cock pushed at her pussy. This was the moment of no return. What we had done so far would pale compared to what would happen with one push of my hips.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy wants this,” she whispered.
She gently pushed me with her hand on my ass so I would enter her. My cock slid into her greased pussy with ease. The inside of her vagina was hot, much hotter than her flesh, and I could feel it burn against the thin skin of my cock. She let out a sigh of relief.
I gently withdrew until the tip of my cock was almost out, then thrust forward, burying myself deep inside her.
She put two hands on my face and brought me close for deep passionate kisses.
“Fuck me hard, baby. You caught me fucking Grant. You need to punish me,” she whispered.
She talked a good game, but I could never tell if she was asking me to do something or telling me to do it.
Despite asking submissively, she was in charge as I began to pump faster and faster. The bed springs squeaked as I repeatedly buried myself deep inside her. The pre cum sensation began to stir, but I was nervous about the post-ejaculation guilt I might have and backed off slightly.
I pulled out and lay beside her on the bed, breathing rapidly and trying to edge back an orgasm. Slowly my near ejaculation subsided, and she climbed atop me cowgirl style.
The feeling of her atop me was firm and tight. Her pussy gripped my cock. She rose and fell, her velvet insides gliding up and down my shaft. Despite the hair on her pussy, I could see her labia greedily grip my thickness with each rise.
She leaned down, mashed her tits on my chest, lowered her mouth to probe mine, and whispered, “Mommy likes this.”
Her wetness now covered her ass and pussy. Our bodies were heated, and our glowing perspiration and the physicality of her pussy pumping my cock created slight quiefs from her pussy.
I could feel the cum swirling in my balls, causing my cock to stiffen. Mom felt the change in my girth and increased her cadence, I just wanted it to get there, and it did. My cock blasted forth a seemingly never-ending stream of thick semen.
Usually, that ends with a few pumps, but this finish continued. As I came down, I realized she was now experiencing her orgasm as her body tightened up.
We rocked together to extend the sensation, then slowed.
My cock went soft, and I slipped out, followed by a wave of spent cum that pooled on the bed.
My mother crawled up to the pillows and lay down, her body spent from such an aggressive fucking.
“Order us some room service,” she said. She lit a cigarette and turned on the TV.
Two hours later, the remnants of room service were on the floor, and the bottle of scotch was almost gone.
We were both still nude. I was propped up with my back against the headboard, pillows bunched to support me. My mother was lying against me, her back to my chest. My cock was flaccid against her back.
“What was that thing you were going to do with Grant?” I asked, unsure that I wanted to know.
“Not me, Mrs. Weckenstein,” she replied
“Maybe I want to fuck Mrs. Weckenstein,” I whispered.
“Be careful what you wish for,” she replied.
“Well, I wished for what we just did for a long, long time. Why not wish for more?” I said. “What was it you were going to do with him? Anal? Were you going to let him do anal?”
“Yes. And no,” she replied.
My cock was beginning to stir as I imagined Grant’s cock going in my mother’s ass. I started to stroke her pussy gently as we talked.
“I want to fuck Mrs. Weckenstein,” I whispered in her ear as I inserted two fingers in her pussy.
She opened her legs wider as I circled her clit. I plunged gently inside, seeking and finding her g spot hiding deeper in her canal. I pressed my fingers against its sponginess, and she arced her back.
“I’m going to fuck you, Mrs. Weckenstein,” I whispered while licking her lobes.
“No baby, Mrs. Weckenstein is going to fuck you,” she replied.
By now my cock was hard as a rock. I wasn’t sure about the difference between my mother and her alter ego Mrs. Weckenstein, but I was determined to find out.
She crawled forward, turned around, and proceeded to suck on my knob gently. The feeling was pleasurable but hardly something extreme. She lifted my manhood and began to lick under my balls along my perineum until her tongue found my clenched ass and probed it. I raised my legs with my arms and held my ass open to give her access. She flattened her tongue and licked the entire surface, tongue-washing and wetting it. She then sat up and purposefully kissed me deep on the mouth so I could taste myself.
She got off the bed, went to her bag, and pulled out a bottle of lube and a seven-inch black, life-like rubber dildo. I smiled, thinking of the fun I could have with that. I could fuck my mom, I mean could fuck Mrs. Weckenstein, while putting the dildo in her ass. Maybe I could fuck her ass while she rode the dildo. Either way, it was going to be exciting.
She then pulled out a harness, which she put on like a pair of underwear. What she had planned became apparent when she slipped the dildo into the harness, giving her a seven-inch faux penis. She poured lube on it and stroked it like it was real.
“I wish I had cock. The things I would do are unspeakable.”
As she approached, I sat in bed, unsure and possibly regretting my desire for…
“Suck Mrs. Weckenstein’s cock,” she demanded.
“It’s not real; I don’t see the point…”
“Suck Mrs. Weckenstein’s cock,” she said deliberately.
She held the silicone cock near my mouth. I hesitantly opened my mouth, and she thrust it in.
This faux cock was long but not porn size; still, it filled my mouth as she moved it in and out of my lips with gentle thrusts of her hips. I didn’t enjoy the fake blowjob, but I don’t think she did it for my pleasure, just hers. She was enjoying her control over me, her ability to make me do things I couldn’t imagine. She put me far outside my comfort zone. We didn’t have a safe word, not that she would have stopped if we did.
She took the fake cock from my mouth and proceeded to lube it up as she moved off the bed.
Get on all fours, she demanded, and I obeyed. Facing the end of the bed, I saw myself in the wall mirror on all fours. Behind me, Mrs. Weckenstein positioned herself behind my ass. The position was humiliating. I could feel the blunt head of the dildo as it pressed on my sealed entry.
Mrs. Weckenstein poured a dose of lube on my ass, then took her thumb and poked it inside me, loosening the gateway.
She positioned the strap-on and then pushed it forward. My asshole opened from the force, and she began to enter. The pain was intense. Very intense. I recognize now why women winced during anal. The faux cock was only an inch in when I felt more pain. The second barrier inside was fighting the invasion.
“Take a breath. Relax. Let Mrs. Weckenstein fuck you,” she whispered.
I relaxed and contemplated pushing her out, then the pain subsided, and she pushed forward. The silicon cock slipped inside me with ease now. As the dildo moved across my prostrate, I felt a rush of electricity. She had found something within me that triggered a sensation I had never felt.
In the bottom of the doggy position, my cock bounced as she fucked me. Once she knew the pain was gone, she got aggressive, and my stiff cock slapped up and down in cadence to her thrusts.
I wanted to reciprocate, but I could do nothing for her. It probably wouldn’t have mattered as she was getting off on being the man and dominating me. Perhaps I should be thankful she didn’t have a real cock because she would have been relentless.
“Mrs. Weckenstein wants you to cum, you little motherfucker,” she demanded.
I wasn’t stroking my cock, nor was she, but I could feel the ejaculation coming. The pre-orgasm sensations were massive, and I could hold it no longer. My arms gave out, and my shoulders fell to the bed, tipping my ass even higher.
Mrs. Weckenstein used the new angle to push in deeper until I blasted a massive load.
“There it is. That’s what Mrs. Weckenstein wants,” she said proudly.
Ropes of cum violently shot from my cock, soaking the sheets and even hitting the mirror on the wall beyond the bed. I had never cum so much in my life. It was almost painful.
She released her grasp on my hips, then backed off, allowing the silicon cock to slip free from my ass, and I fell forward on the bed, exasperated and humiliated.
My mother lay on my back, her tits against me, her fake cock against my ass.
“You don’t fuck Mrs. Weckenstein; she fucks you,” she whispered.
She reached down to my cock and stroked off a thick dollop of cum, then put it in her mouth and kissed me, swirling my emission into my mouth with her tongue.
She rolled off me and went into the bathroom to pee. I rolled to my back and lay there, unable to move. I watched Mrs. Weckenstein pee because she wanted me to. I then fell asleep my body spent both physically and emotionally.
Morning came, and I woke to hear the Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom running.
I wandered into the bathroom to see Mom enjoying a hot bath while the whirlpool jets massaged her body.
We exchanged no words. I walked to the side of the enormous tub and stepped in. She moved forward, and I slid in behind her so she could rest her back on my chest.
I took a hand towel and soap and began to wash her. She smiled, loving the attention as I washed her legs, arms, armpits, and tits. I then took the cloth and put it between her legs, gently cleaning her pussy. I could feel her clit engorged as I probed her.
My cock grew stiff and pressed against her back as I continued to wash her like an obedient servant to an Egyptian queen.
I moved the cloth down her ass, gently massaging her tight muscle with my fingers. She reacted by sliding up and down, trying to wish my finger inside her.
I turned the tub jacuzzi jets on high and could feel the intensity of the jetting water on our skin.
Grabbing her legs, I pulled them up slightly, pushing her exposed asshole against one of the jets. As the water battered her anus, she put her hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them and creating a small opening. She tensed up as the jets of water pushed forcefully into her ass.
When she began to writhe with discomfort, I stood her up, and she pushed excess forced water from her ass, cleansing herself.
She was clean and natural, wearing no makeup, and still stunning.
She held me close, my cock throbbing in anticipation.
“Your father will be picking me up in a few minutes for the drive home.”
“Where was he?” I asked.
“When I come here, he goes to the Indian Casino in the next county and does God knows what. We lead separate lives.”
She proceeded to put on her makeup and blew out her hair while I sat on the edge of the tub and watched.
She was meticulous, even shaving her armpits despite them being already smooth.
“He knows what you do here?”
“He approved of Grant,” she said with a smile. “I don’t think he’ll approve of you.”
She pulled on skimpy red thong underwear and a low-cut bra, then entered the bedroom to put on her dress. I followed her in, still nude.
“I’m returning to town in two weeks for the Auburn game,” she said.
She wore an attractive black slip dress with thin straps and a tempting hemline. She looked overdressed for a car ride back to Long Island, but then again, she was always overdressed.
She glanced at her Tiffany watch.
“He’s probably downstairs waiting for me. So, I said I was planning to come back in two weeks. Should I?”
I approached her from behind, wrapping my arms around her.
“I’m not ready for you to leave,” I whispered while holding her roughly.
She enjoyed the intensity of my hold, and I could feel her press her ass slightly against my cock, which quickly stiffened. I leaned in and kissed her neck.
“I have to go, so this will have to wait,” she said coldly, then pushed her ass against me again, the opposite message of I have to go.
I took both her arms and held them behind her back with one hand, then hiked up her black dress with my other hand. She resisted slightly as I bent her over the back of the couch and leered at the G string of her red thong and alabaster white ass.
“You can’t do this. He’s going to find us,” she pleaded.
I grabbed my cock and placed the tip against the cloth of the thong covering her perineum.
“Ask me to fuck your ass,” I demanded
“Please, no, we don’t have time,” she whispered.
“I said ask me to fuck your ass,” I demanded fiercely.
I had learned something about the allure of dominance after being humiliated by Mrs. Weckenstein hours ago.
“Mr. Weckenstein wants to hear you ask him to fuck your ass,” I said with faux anger.
I felt a rigidness shoot through her when she heard me refer to myself in the third person. Was it fear or stimulation? I didn’t care, I had washed her ass, and now I intended to fuck it.
“Please fuck my ass Mr. Weckenstein,” she said in a meek, quiet voice.
If there was any concern, she might not want this; that was disregarded as she pulled the G-string of her thong aside, granting access.
Below my cock, her pussy watered at this unexpected interruption. Above it, her asshole quivered and puckered, excited and confused. I needed to wet my cock so I drove it fast and deep into her pussy, knowing her wetness was as abundant as any lube. Her thick juices adhered to my flesh, making the in and out like stroking myself with velvet.
“He’s going to catch us,” she pleaded.
“You can leave when you make Mr. Weckenstein cum.” I said with force.
Despite her pleas to end this and leave, she did not attempt to stop me.
I pulled my soaked cock free and felt her drippings coating it. Plenty lubed, I pressed my blunt head on the clenched tightness of her starfish.
“You deserve this,” I whispered in her ear.
I continued to restrain her while my cock attempted to part her sphincter.
Her ass fought my attempts, but I pressed on. She helped by widening her stance, and her anus opened in a small o shape. It was enough to allow my cock to get inside.
“Please be gentle, Mr. Weckenstein,” she cried. I smiled, knowing she was now submitting to the dominance of the younger Mr. Weckenstein.
“Fuck me fast. He’s going to be her any minute.”
I could feel her energy rising. The idea of getting caught heightened her drive.
As I penetrated, the small o opening widened like the iris of a camera lens, allowing me to penetrate further with no additional resistance.
The slide-in was smooth and gentle. Her wince from the pleasure and pain, but that wince turned to relief as her inner muscles accommodated the invasion and relented.
“Do you like that, Mr. Weckenstein? Do you like my ass” she asked.
I stopped when the hilt of my cock met her ass cheeks. We stayed motionless for a moment then I began to retreat. The sensation of her smooth tunnel and the thick lube created a creamy sense for me to enjoy.
I slid back and in to enjoy it, then out, increasing my speed and heightening my pleasure. Despite the ticking clock, she was too into this ass fucking to stop, and we started to move in rhythm. From my vantage point, her ass was talented, and the way it swallowed my cock was unlike anything I had felt prior.
“Mr. Weckenstein is going to cum,” I declared loudly.
Hoping to get her there, I moved a hand underneath to find her pussy sticky and wet. She, too, was cumming. We moved in sync, and within a few seconds, I felt my cum load blast forth, seeking every depth of her bowels.
This, in turn, caused her orgasm resulting in her bowels contracting with a reverse capillary action, milking my cock for every drop of semen into her darkness. We came to a slow stop, and I pulled back slowly, knowing from last night’s experience that removing my cock felt almost debilitating.
I gently pulled out, a rush of trapped air followed by the thickness of my cum churned to cream inside her. I watched as bubbles and globs of creamed cum spilled from her ass. I took the robe and wiped her ass and pussy as best I could.
She stood up, pulled up her thong, and fixed her dress just as there was a knock on the door.
“Wendie, you about ready? I got the car waiting,” said my father from beyond the door.
“Coming,” she replied.
My cock was still stiff, albeit less than it was a minute ago. She dropped to her knees, quickly put my spent penis in her mouth, cleaned it with her tongue, gave me a wet kiss, and swirled it around mine. She left me with my own taste in my mouth. What a fucking alpha move.
She coolly grabbed her overnight bag and pushed me to the side where I would not be seen when she exited.
I could hear her greet him in the hall with a wet kiss. Knowing my cock had just been in her ass, I recognized her dominant move having him taste both her and her lover as she left the room. Again, marking her men like an animal marks territory.
I watched their car leave and then showered. As I dressed, I noticed something in my jeans, my mother’s wet underwear from last night, soaked in her secretions, a reminder of what I could expect in two weeks.
I returned to my room to find Grant studying. We exchanged awkward looks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would set you up like that,” Grant said
“She didn’t set me up,” I replied.
“Yeah, dude, she did. Each time we’ve gotten together, she wants to know where you’ll be before the game. I’ve watched her stalk you from the hotel room window. She stands where you might see her. Each time a little closer. Last week you were only a few yards from her. When she returns to the room after that, she’s so pumped up with adrenaline. She becomes someone else.”
“Mrs. Weckenstein?”
“Yeah, Mrs. Weckenstein. I guess this time she made a mistake, and you spotted her. I’m sorry for that. Are we good?”
“We’re good, Grant, but let’s not talk about it again,”
I lay on my bed and replayed the insane 24 hours while stroking my mother’s wet thong in my pocket.
Grant was wrong about one thing. My mother never made mistakes. She might have gotten off on the close calls, but she wanted to be seen this time. She wanted me to find her in bed with my roommate. She wanted me inside her. She wanted to violate me and she wanted me to violate her. Nothing had happened for which she hadn’t planned. She set me up and snared me in her wicked game.
I could not wait for two weeks to pass and see what she had planned.
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If you enjoyed this story, you can see Barry, Grant, and The Wicked Mrs. Wendie Weckenstein in Portmanteau: Ep1.