Vanessa's pussy had been weeping for her son since the day he turned eighteen.
Every night she lay beside her snoring husband Mark, thighs clenched, silk nightgown soaked between her legs while she listened to Ethan's shower run across the hall. She pictured the water sluicing over his broad shoulders, down the deep V of his back, curling around that fat, heavy cock she'd accidentally glimpsed months ago when he'd stepped out of the bathroom towel-less.
Nine inches. Thick as her wrist. Veins like ropes.
Mark's pathetic five-inch prick couldn't even nudge her cervix on a good day. He spurted in ninety seconds flat, rolled over, and called it "making love."
Tonight Mark was gone—one whole week on a business trip to Singapore.
The second his Uber disappeared down the driveway, Vanessa's cunt gave a greedy pulse so strong she had to grip the kitchen counter.
Ethan padded in wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants. The outline of his morning wood was obscene, the head already pushing past the waistband, a wet spot blooming where precome leaked.
"Morning, Mom." His voice was rough with sleep. He didn't even try to hide the way his eyes dropped straight to her tits—barely contained in a thin white tank, nipples dark and stiff against the fabric.
Vanessa turned, letting him see the wet patch on her pastel-pink yoga shorts. "Baby… Daddy's gone. It's just us."
Ethan's pupils blew wide. He crossed the kitchen in three strides, big hands grabbing her waist and lifting her onto the marble island like she weighed nothing. The cold stone kissed her ass; her legs fell open on instinct.
"Been dreaming about this pussy every night," he growled, dragging the soaked crotch of her shorts aside. Two thick fingers speared straight in—schlick—curling, pumping, making her squirt a hot little gush over his wrist.
"Fuck—Mom, you're flooding."
"Only for you, sweetheart," she whimpered, rolling her hips, smearing her slick across his palm. "Mommy's cunt belongs to her big boy now."
He yanked her tank up. Her triple-D tits spilled free, heavy and veined, nipples leaking tiny beads of milk from how crazy her hormones went whenever he was near. Ethan latched on like a starving man, sucking hard, teeth scraping until she cried out.
His cock slapped against her thigh—hot, iron-hard, dripping. She reached down, both hands barely wrapping around the girth.
"Put it in me, Ethan. Breed Mommy's sloppy hole."
He didn't tease. One brutal thrust and he bottomed out, the fat head kissing her womb. Vanessa screamed, back arching, pussy clamping so tight he had to snarl and pry her legs wider.
"Relax, baby—let me ruin you."
He fucked her like a machine—long, punishing strokes that dragged over every nerve inside her. The island creaked. Her juices splashed onto the floor in obscene puddles. Every time he pulled back, her cunt lips gripped him desperately, pink flesh clinging to his veiny shaft before he slammed home again.
"Harder—harder—Mommy's gonna come—!"
She exploded, pussy spasming, squirting in arcs that soaked his abs. Ethan kept pounding through it, grunting, sweat dripping from his chest onto her jiggling tits.
"Gonna fill you up, Mom. Gonna keep you pregnant with my babies so everyone knows who this cunt belongs to."
They never made it to the bedroom.
He bent her over the couch at 10 a.m., fat cock splitting her from behind while she watched their reflection in the dark TV screen—her huge ass rippling with every thrust, his hands sinking into the soft flesh.
At noon he ate lunch off her body—sushi balanced on her tits, soy sauce dripping into her cleavage while she rode him reverse cowgirl on the dining table, pussy frothing around his dick, cream running down his balls.
By 3 p.m. she was on her knees in the hallway, gagging on his cock, tears and spit dripping onto her swinging tits while he fucked her throat raw. When he came, he pulled out and painted her face, thick ropes striping her cheeks, lips, eyelashes. She scooped it up with shaking fingers and sucked them clean, moaning.
"More," she begged, voice wrecked. "Mommy needs more of her baby's come."
By evening they were wrecked—sheets ruined, couch cushions soaked, her pussy swollen and gaping, his cock chafed red but still hard.
He laid her on the kitchen tiles, legs over his shoulders, and slid home slow. This time was different—deep, grinding, filthy-sweet. She clutched his face, staring into his eyes while he split her open.
"I love you," he whispered, hips rolling, cock stirring her insides. "Love this perfect, dripping mommy-cunt. Never letting you go."
Vanessa's eyes rolled back. Another orgasm crashed through her, softer but endless, pussy milking him in rhythmic pulses.
"Come inside me, Ethan. Give Mommy every drop."
He buried himself to the root and unloaded—hot, thick, endless spurts flooding her womb. She felt it—felt him painting her insides white, claiming her in the most primal way.
When he finally pulled out, a river of come followed, pooling beneath her ass. Ethan scooped her up, carried her to his bed, and tucked her against his chest.
"Six more days," he murmured, fingers lazily circling her clit, keeping her slick and open. "Gonna keep this pussy full the whole week."
Vanessa smiled, already drifting, cunt still twitching around nothing.
"Promise?" she whispered.
He pushed three fingers back inside her, slow and possessive.
"Mommy, I'm just getting started."
The sun wasn't even up when Vanessa woke to the wet drag of Ethan's tongue lapping at her ruined hole.
She was on her stomach, face buried in his pillow that smelled like sex and teenage boy. Her ass was cocked high, thighs trembling, pussy still leaking the six loads he'd pumped into her since midnight.
"Morning, Mommy," he rasped, voice gravel-rough. Two fingers spread her open wider, exposing the creamy mess inside. "Needed a midnight snack. Then a 3 a.m. snack. Looks like you're ready for breakfast."
He slurped noisily, tongue scooping his own come out of her and swallowing it down like cream. Vanessa moaned into the sheets, pushing back, fucking herself on his face.
By the time the sky turned pink, he'd added another load—bent over the bathroom sink while she brushed her teeth, his cock shoved so deep her toes curled against the tile.
They stumbled outside in nothing but robes, the air cool against their fevered skin.
The pool house glittered in the dawn light, all glass and white cushions. Ethan kicked the door shut behind them, ripped her robe off, and threw her onto the sectional.
"Been jerking off out here for years thinking about this," he growled, dropping to his knees. "Used to watch you swim laps, tits bouncing, that fat ass barely covered. Would come so hard I saw stars."
He flipped her onto all fours facing the glass wall. Outside, the pool water shimmered. Inside, her reflection stared back—lips swollen, mascara smeared, tits swinging like pendulums.
Ethan lined up and speared her in one brutal thrust.
"Look at yourself, Mom. Look how fucking greedy this cunt is."
She watched her own mouth fall open in a silent scream as he started jackhammering. Each thrust sent her heavy tits slapping against the glass, leaving wet prints of sweat and milk. Her pussy made filthy wet sounds—glurk, glurk, glurk—come frothing around his pistoning cock and dripping down her thighs in thick strings.
"Harder—break Mommy's pussy—make it remember who owns it—"
He grabbed her hair, yanked her head back, and pounded so hard the sectional scooted across the floor. Vanessa came with a guttural wail, squirting so violently it splashed the glass like rain.
Ethan didn't stop. He pulled out, spun her around, and shoved her onto her back. Hooked her knees over his elbows and folded her in half—mating press, her ass lifted off the cushions, pussy angled straight up to take every inch.
"Gonna fuck a baby into you right here where I used to spy on you," he snarled.
His cock battered her cervix on every stroke. Vanessa's eyes rolled white, tongue lolling, drool running down her chin. She couldn't speak—just broken, desperate noises as orgasm after orgasm shredded her.
When he finally came, it felt like a hose going off inside her. Rope after thick rope, so much it overflowed immediately, bubbling out around his buried shaft and running down her ass crack onto the cushions.
He stayed plugged deep, grinding, making sure every drop stayed inside.
"Stay just like this," he ordered, voice shaking. "Don't move."
Ethan reached for his phone on the coffee table. The camera clicked—close-up of her destroyed pussy stuffed full of cock, come leaking out in a creamy ring.
"Wallpaper material," he grinned, showing her the screen. "So I can look at Mommy's bred cunt whenever I want."
Vanessa whimpered, clenching around him, already desperate for the next round.
They moved outside when the sun climbed high.
Ethan dragged a lounger to the edge of the pool, laid her on it face-down, ass up. He oiled her entire body—coconut scent, slick hands massaging her back, her huge tits squishing against the slats, her ass cheeks spread wide.
He took her slow this time. Lazy, gluttonous thrusts while he watched his cock disappear into her puffy, swollen folds. Every time he pulled out, her cunt gaped—pink, wrecked, glistening—before he slid back in with a wet squelch.
Between thrusts he fed her strawberries, kissed her sticky lips, told her how pretty she looked with her insides rearranged around her son's dick.
At 4 p.m. the gardener was supposed to come.
Ethan didn't cancel.
Instead he fucked her right there in broad daylight, her screams echoing across the water while the poor guy mowed the far lawn, earbuds in, none the wiser.
Vanessa came so hard she blacked out for five seconds, waking up to Ethan still rutting into her limp body, grunting, "That's it, Mommy, take it while the whole world pretends they can't see."
They ended the day in the bed she'd shared with Mark for fifteen years.
Ethan made her kneel in the center, wedding photo watching from the nightstand.
"Tell him," he commanded, cock in hand, slapping her lips with the heavy weight. "Tell your husband what his bed's for now."
Vanessa looked straight at the photo, voice hoarse from screaming all day.
"This bed belongs to my son now. His cock owns me. His come stays inside me. You're never touching me again."
Ethan rewarded her by flipping her onto her back, spreading her legs wide, and sliding home in one smooth stroke.
He fucked her slow and deep, hips rolling, eyes locked.
"Love you, Mom," he whispered against her lips, cock dragging over her G-spot again and again. "Love you so fucking much."
She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his ass, and let the tears come—this time not from pain, but from the overwhelming truth that she'd never belonged to anyone but him.
When they came together, it felt like the world stopped. Her pussy fluttered endlessly, milking him, pulling his seed as deep as it would go. He collapsed on top of her, still buried, still spurting.
They fell asleep like that—cock soft inside her, come drying on their thighs, wedding photo watching over the ruins of her marriage.
Five more days left.
And Mommy's pussy was already dripping for tomorrow.
Ethan woke her with two fingers knuckle-deep in her cunt and his mouth on her clit.
Vanessa came before her eyes opened, hips bucking so hard she nearly head-butted him.
"Get up, Mommy," he murmured, licking her slick off his lips. "We're going shopping. Need to dress this body like the slut it is."
She tried to protest (legs still jelly from yesterday), but he was already dragging her into the shower. He fucked her against the glass while the water pounded down, one hand choking her throat, the other rubbing tight circles on her clit until she squirted so hard it splashed the tiles.
By 10 a.m. she was in the passenger seat of his Jeep, wearing the shortest sundress he could find in her closet—no bra, no panties, just a thin strip of yellow cotton that barely covered her ass. Every bump in the road made her swollen pussy lips rub together, leaking down her thighs.
Ethan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other buried under her dress, three fingers pumping lazily.
"Spread wider," he ordered at a red light. She obeyed, dress riding up to her waist, cunt on full display. The truck driver next to them looked over and damn near dropped his coffee.
Ethan just grinned, curled his fingers, and made her come right there in traffic—her scream muffled against his shoulder, pussy gushing onto the leather seat.
They walked through the mall like nothing was wrong.
Except Ethan kept her dress tugged so low her nipples peeked with every step, and every time they hit an escalator he stood one step below her, lifted the back of her hem, and licked a hot stripe up her dripping slit while strangers rode behind them.
By the time they reached Victoria's Secret, Vanessa was shaking, thighs glossy, pupils blown.
He shoved her into the biggest fitting room, locked the door, and bent her over the bench.
"Pick something pretty, Mom," he growled, unzipping. "Because I'm ruining it."
She barely had time to grab a crimson lace teddy before he was inside her—cock shoving the air from her lungs, balls slapping her clit with every thrust. The mirror showed everything: her mouth open in a silent scream, tits bouncing wildly, his hand clamped over her lips to keep her quiet.
He fucked her until the teddy was soaked—her squirt, his precome, sweat. When he came he pulled out and shot across the lace, painting it white, then rubbed the mess into her skin like lotion.
"Wear it out," he said, zipping up. "Let every cashier smell my come on you."
They ate lunch at a tiny table in the crowded food court.
Vanessa sat on Ethan's lap, dress "accidentally" hiked to her hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. Every time she shifted to take a bite of her pretzel, he flexed, making her whimper into her soda.
People stared. A mom with two kids scowled. A teenage boy dropped his phone.
Ethan just fed her another bite, then reached under the table to rub her clit in slow circles.
"Come for me, Mommy," he whispered against her ear. "Right here where everyone can see what a perfect cockslut you are."
She shattered—pussy clamping, squirting so hard it dripped off his balls onto the tile floor. She buried her face in his neck to muffle the sob, body shaking through aftershocks while strangers pretended not to notice the puddle spreading under their table.
The Jeep's back seat was already down when they stumbled in, high on adrenaline and public orgasms.
Ethan folded her in half—ankles by her ears—and fucked her like he was trying to split her open. The car rocked on its suspension, windows fogged, her screams echoing off concrete.
He pulled out at the last second and came on her face—thick ropes across her cheeks, lips, tongue hanging out to catch every drop. Then he scooped it up with his cock and fed it to her, watching her lick him clean.
"Open the door," he ordered, voice hoarse.
She obeyed, legs still spread, dress around her waist, face painted white. Cars drove by. A security guard on a golf cart slowed down, eyes wide.
Ethan just waved, then slammed back inside her, fucking her raw while the guard watched.
When he finally came again—deep, flooding her womb—he left her there: door open, pussy gaping and dripping, dress ruined, come drying on her face.
"Five minutes," he said, kissing her sticky lips. "Then we go home and I breed you on Dad's pillow."
Vanessa smiled through the mess, cunt already clenching around nothing.
"Drive fast, baby."
Four more days.
And Mommy's holes were open 24/7.