She had closed her eyes in submission. In completely giving away control to her now adult teenage son. Even in that moment of humiliation, she felt as if she was of service. The flow of piss stopped and Jacinda opened her eyes, to look up at Hunter. She couldn’t see him in front of her. She thought her complete humiliation and degradation was complete. She thought her punishment was over. And despite the depths of depravity her son had put her through, somehow she enjoyed every act her son had performed with her. Was he done? Did he go to grab her some water? No, her son was now standing behind her head, at the edge of the couch. She couldn’t see him in her field of view. But she saw his hand approach from the top of her head.
He pressed her nose shut, so she couldn’t breathe. This made her open her mouth gasping for air. And right at that moment, Hunter unleashed his golden shower again aiming directly at his mother’s mouth, towering above her. He continued until her mouth was full, she was reluctant to swallow, but she had no choice in a feeble attempt to gasp for air. He held her nose until she had a mouthful of her son’s pee. He let her nose free, when her mouth was filled to the brim, some piss flowed over and dripped to the side of her face, covering her face, seeping through her hair, going into her ears.
Her nose was now let free and she had no choice but to swallow the mouthful of piss she had just received as punishment from her son. Hunter still had a little bit left in him, and he aimed at his mother’s mouth once again, this time coming back in front of her. This time, her eyes locked with his. And this time, she opened her mouth wilfully. As Hunter let go of another stream of his golden piss, Jacinda made sure to not break eye contact and swallow every last drop as much as she could. Yes it tasted foul. Yes it was dirty. Yes, she felt humiliated and degraded but she was also thirsty.
Hunter could have easily fetched his exhausted mother a glass of water from the kitchen. But he had better plans. He wanted to mark her as her own. He wanted to claim ownership of his mother, as his lover. As his property. As his woman. As his slave. All the BDSM porn he had watched had come in handy to take control of his woman, his lover. As the final drops of piss exited his penis, Hunter shook his dick to trickle the last few drops which again fell on his mother’s white shirt. Now, having swallowed every last drop of her son’s piss. Having tasted his cum. Jacinda felt a sense of ownership. A sense of protection. This was her man. Her son was her everything. This was her life.
Hunter took some pictures and a short video of his hot mom laying on the couch almost naked, soaked in his piss and cum. He saved them for his own future entertainment. He looked at her once again.
Hunter: Mom….
Jacinda: Yes, Hunter?
Hunter: You’re mine.
Jacinda: I am. I love you baby, but you’ve made such a mess on the couch.
Hunter: Mom, I think you should get used to it. I plan on making a lot more messes.
Jacinda: Well, we don’t even have any house-help today.
Hunter: We have you. (He smiled)
Jacinda didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day. It was only 9 in the morning. She had spent the last 2 hours playing dirty, sexual games with her son. She had spent the 2 hours confessing and making love to her lover. She had enjoyed every bit of it. The antithesis of her OCD, uptight, perfection was this depraved state of humiliation that she was now under. Her handsome hunk of a son had cast a spell of sensual ecstasy on her. What surprised her, was despite how much she was in love with her son, they still hadn’t had sex. Her son was still a virgin. She had just tasted his cum. He just drenched her in his piss. But they hadn’t had sex. They hadn’t indulged in the most taboo of all acts. She wanted that. She wanted to have sex. She hadn’t performed sexual intercourse in over 15 years. She was desperate. For years, she had buried her sexual urges within herself. And finally, she had found someone to explode her libido with. And that someone was her own son, Hunter.
Hunter: Mom, I love you.
Jacinda: I love you too, son.
Hunter: Mom, can I ask you something?
Jacinda: Of course baby….
Hunter: I want to have sex with you Mom.
Jacinda: That’s not really a question honey.
Hunter: Maybe, I’m just telling you.
Jacinda: Just telling me?
Hunter: Maybe, I’m insisting.
Jacinda: Oh…
Hunter: Maybe I want to uhm… I want to command you.
Jacinda: Command me?
Hunter: Yes. I want to take control and make you mine. I want you, all for myself.
Jacinda: You already have me, baby.
Hunter: No, but Mom. I want to own you. Your body. I want us to have a special relationship.
Jacinda: What do you mean sweety?
Jacinda now having some fluid in her body, albeit her son’s piss, had regained some energy to sit back up on the piss soaked couch. Now staring in her son’s eyes, as he sat next to her, naked.
Hunter: Mom. I’ve never had sex. And I want to, with you. But the kind of sex I want to have is something you may not like.
Jacinda: Does it involve ripping my clothes off? Does it include pulling my hair? Does it include roughly fingering my vagina? Does your kind of sex mean you can take me anytime, anywhere? Does it mean you want to brutally facefuck me?
Hunter seemed kinda dumbfounded. As he had never heard such words from his mother’s sweet, innocent voice. His mother in all these years barely even swore, let alone use words like ‘facefuck’. He had maybe heard her say ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ a handful of times. The answer to her questions was yes. It was rhetorical. She knew his answers to her questions. But Hunter wanted to take it a step forward.
Hunter: Yes, mom. All of the above. And the pee thing….
Jacinda: Hmm.. that was unexpected. Like a lot of other things you’ve done over the last 14 hours.
Hunter: I want to do a lot more with you mom.
Jacinda: Like what?
Hunter: You will know when the time will come. But for now, I want you to be my partner. I want you to be my girlfriend. My woman. My wife…
Jacinda: I’m still married, you know. I guess you can call it separated.
Hunter: Why not get a divorce…
Jacinda: It doesn’t matter. We can’t get married. We are Mother and son. You’re my son, Hunter.
Hunter: Who cares. We’ll just get married intimately. So I can claim you. I want you as mine. I want to claim you as my property.
Jacinda: Your property?
Hunter: Yes. I want you to be completely mine.
Jacinda: I am yours honey.
Maybe Hunter was having trouble explaining the kind of relationship he wanted to have with his mother. She was quite naive in a lot of ways.
Hunter: Mom, I want you to be my Sex Slave.
Those words echoed in Jacinda’s ears. “Sex Slave”. Her 18 year old teenage son wanted her, his own mother, as his sex slave. She was lost again. Defeated. Unsure of how to respond. She just looked down and kept quiet. Contemplating, overthinking. Jacinda had never thought about being anyone’s sexual partner. The idea of being a sex slave had never even occurred to her. But this is what her son wanted. She had already crossed quite a few boundaries with her son in the last couple of days. They had confessed to being lovers. But they had not yet had sex.
“How is he thinking of such stuff?” she thought. “Was it all the hardcore porn he was watching? Where is he getting all these ideas? Why does he want me, his own mother, to be his sex slave?” These are questions Jacinda was trying to find answers to within her own mind. She realized Hunter was an 18 year old grown adult with pent up, bottled up, natural, sexual urges buried deep inside of him, very much like her own. And just like herself, he hadn’t had any sexual exposure since early puberty hit him. Growing up almost without his father around, maybe he didn’t have anyone to talk to. Maybe she lacked the skills to educate him on sex. Her pessimism blamed herself for telling him the reality about his father. The fact that he was an alcoholic womanizer who also paid for sex.
Hunter tried so hard to not turn out like his father, that he was extra careful when approaching or talking to girls. Always awkward and friendly. He didn’t know how to take the lead. But he had this natural animalistic sexual instinct to him that had now received an outlet. And that outlet was his own mom, Jacinda. The only woman who he found attractive. The woman he knew would never leave him. The woman he loved and she loved him back. Jacinda convinced herself with these thoughts that it was her responsibility to give Hunter the release he needed. She would take the initiative to be the woman Hunter always dreamed of and yearned for. But Hunter’s idea for her, apart from being his lover, was for her to be his sex slave.
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