Literotic asexstories – Phone Recordings with Mom by HeyAll,HeyAll The FatherI’m standing by the bedroom window reflecting on where it all went wrong. I’m not a bad man, I swear. I did all the right things in life and I’m an ordinary person. I’m looking at the view of this quiet suburban neighborhood filled with neat houses lined in a row. It’s a place where everyday life unfolds in a calm and ordinary way.
The love of my life is undressing behind me. This should be heaven, but it’s not that simple. A wave of unease washes over me, reminding me that intimate relationships are complex and navigating the intricacies of love isn’t always straightforward.
We’re both naked and I admire her slender, youthful figure. Pink nipples erect. Her shoulder-length red hair is straightened and parted to the side and she’s wearing a lot of mascara with matching dark red lipstick.
I sit on the edge of the bed. She kneels on the floor, getting between my legs. In the few years that we’ve been doing this, I’ve never been comfortable. Neither has she, but she gets a bigger rush from it than me. As conflicted as I sound, my body reacts and I have an erection that grows near her face.
She looks at my cock, happy with what she sees, then grabs her phone on the bed. The camera is activated. She hands me the phone, holding it with both hands as if I’m a king and she’s a servant. Recording this is a terrible idea but it’s what she wants. She takes my cock in her mouth and I point the phone in her direction. I see lust in her eyes. That unholy lust.
Salumeh the School TeacherIt’s late afternoon and I step naked into the apartment living room to grab my clothes, still buzzing with shame and euphoria. This isn’t my home. I shouldn’t be here. I’m a school teacher of all things. I wear my panties, then I reach into my wallet and leave $300 on the table.
Rather than getting dressed and leaving, I check the time and see that I still have a few minutes on my schedule. So I go back to the bedroom where a 25 year old white girl is laying naked on the bed, with short red hair that’s tucked behind her ears. I’m always struck by the contrast between us. My dark brown skin compared to her snow white complexion. My modest curves compared to her skinny figure. We are an erotic sight when our bodies are intertwined.
She’s laying stomach down with her feet crossed and she’s playing on her phone. She usually greets me whenever I approach, especially with my breasts still out, but this time she keeps her attention on the phone. She’s always busy.
“You look beautiful in that pose,” I say.
Anna smiles. “If you only knew what I’m looking at.”
I walk over and sit on the bed, right next to her, my hand stroking her skin. It’s the whitest skin I’ve ever touched and I always feel guilty touching her, as if I’m taking advantage of her. But I remind myself that she always invites me back. I remind myself of the orgasms we share.
“Anything interesting?”
“Exclusive content I’m working on.”
“Always busy. I like that.”
“Want to look?”
“Sure.”
The young woman swipes and presses the screen, then shows me the video. Anna is on her knees and she’s naked giving oral sex to a much older man. The cocksucking is passionate and intense with stroking and plenty of eye contact with the camera.
“A blowjob video worth a thousand dollars,” she says.
“For that one video?”
She winks. “For this one video.”
“Your patrons must love you.”
“What can I say? I aim to please.”
“So who’s the lucky guy in the video?”
“My father.”
“Your father?” I ask.
“Real incest is some of the most lucrative content in the adult business.”
I look at the video with fresh perspective. Her father? The man’s body in the video is certainly old enough. I’ve been a school teacher for nearly two decades and the video makes me cringe, watching Anna give oral sex with such zest.
“How did this happen with your father?”
My approach is non-judgmental and open minded. Judging is never the best approach at the start. It’s all about listening and understanding, figuring out what’s going on.
Anna puts the phone away and stretches her arms like a kitten while laying on the bed. She looks up at the ceiling, still enjoying the effects of an earlier orgasm, her long pink nipples protrude from her flat chest. God she’s beautiful.
“It’s a long story,” she says.
“That’s okay. I’d like to hear it.”
“Because it makes your pussy wet? Or because you think I was molested?”
“I’m a teacher. I’m trained to look for these things. And I care about people. I care about you as a person. I care about your wellbeing.”
“Your comments are appreciated. I care about you too, Salumeh, but this is totally consensual and I’m an adult.”
“Still, I’d like to hear your story if that’s okay.”
“We’re going over today’s time limit, but who cares, right? Here’s the short version. My dad bought a new house with a pool. I was 21 and moved back to the neighborhood after college. We swam together a few times. We had this flirty vibe in the pool, you know? We started showering together after going inside the house, eventually I gave him massages, he did the same for me. That turned into blowjobs. My doing, my curiosity, his reluctance. Eventually I thought about selling this content to my subscribers, managed to convince my dad, now here we are.”
Her long pink nipples are erect and her eyes have a dreamy quality about them as she tells this story. It’s almost like she’s reliving a favorite memory of hers, one that she often replays in her head. I know when she’s aroused. Her nipples always give it away.
“How much money have you made from this content?” I ask.
“Tens of thousands, just this year. It’s still a new aspect of my business.”
I reach over and touch her white belly and rub her small breasts, playing with her nipple, seeing my brown hand over her milky white skin. It’s not a sexual act, not this time. It’s about being protective of her. It’s about caring for a much younger woman.
“My honest opinion, and please don’t feel like I’m judging you in any kind of way — just stating my opinion — but a dad is supposed to protect you from harm, not touch you, not flirt, not shower with you, not receive oral sex from you. Dads are supposed to love you, protect you. What’s happening is that he’s inappropriately showing you how to love.”
“That’s your conclusion from my story?”
“It’s the only sensible conclusion I can make. I stand by my comment. I think your father is abusive towards you. Even if you initiated certain acts.”
“Love has many forms,” she says.
“Including that?”
“What do you mean? A blowjob?”
“Yes, that. That’s not love and you know it.”
“It’s how I choose to love my father. I enjoy it. My dad enjoys it. The people who buy my content definitely enjoy it. These are facts. I know it’s not for everyone, but it’s a choice I’ve made with my body.”
“Your father knows right from wrong. You’re following his lead. I don’t think you came up with performing blowjobs on him. He started the whole thing by touching you and enticing you. He’s taught you the wrong way that a father should love a daughter. That’s my sincere opinion and I hope you reconsider.”
“Let me show you something.”
Anna sits upright on the bed and flips through her phone. She hands me the phone, which now shows a different clip where she’s having sex while laying on her back, her short red hair splayed across white sheets. It’s the same male body and I assume it’s taken in her father’s bedroom, which makes me queasy. The video zooms in on Anna’s lascivious facial expressions which manages to turn me on in the most inappropriate way.
“Your father’s bedroom?”
“Yes. I love him as a person. He’s also a fantastic cameraman.”
“The irony. My entire career I’ve been trained to look for signs of incest to report it. Now here I am, sitting with this video and having your confession, and I’ll have to ignore it.”
“Ignore it? You’ll be thinking of this video for the rest of your life. Admit it, Salumeh, you’re aroused that I’m fucking and sucking my dad. You could hardly peel your eyes away from those videos.”
“Nonsense.”
There’s a twinkle in Anna’s eye. “Here’s a test. Show me your pussy and we’ll see if it’s wet.”
“This might be the only time I’ll refuse to show you.”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“We should become business partners,” she says. “A hot Persian MILF school teacher like yourself would be a huge hit with my audience. I could sell the content and we could split the money. I’m hoping to move into a new apartment and this would help so much.”
“Me?”
She tweaks my nipple. “Yes, you. Or to make things more clear, you and me. There are other potential avenues to make tons of money. Think about it. You and your son.”
“My son?” I ask.
“Horrible, I know. The worst. Get over it. The thought came to mind, just now as we’re having this conversation. Everyone wins. The sales will help me move into a better apartment, you could have a side hustle, and it’ll add the spice you’re missing in your life.”
“I’m not as boring as you think.”
“You’ve been sexually repressed your whole life, Salumeh, that’s why you’re drawn to my pussy.”
“It’s one thing to go down on you. But my son? That’s a different league of fucked-up. It’s immoral. It’s a terrible sin.”
“Immoral according to who? A sin according to who?”
“You know that I’m very religious. I’ve always been upfront about that.”
Anna shakes her head. “The same God that forgives you for being a quasi-lesbian would also forgive you for being happy with your son. Our creator knows us, whether we fully abide by their rules or not. They did just that. They created us.”
I should be furious that she’s using my religious viewpoint against me and I can feel the rage bubbling up. Early in our relationship I confided in her that I pray after our meetings — for me and her — and she thought it was sweet. But how can I be angry whenever her big nipples are exposed? I calm down because I know she means well. We have a fundamentally different perspective on sexuality and I’ve known that from the start.
“Being a lesbian is different than committing incest,” I say.
“Sure, on a spectrum, but once you’re broken that seal of taboo, it’s broken forever. That’s how I see it. Taboo is taboo.”
“Are you serious? Oral sex between adult women is different from family relations. It just is. And I’m sorry if I’m sounding preachy or judgmental, but I care about your well-being.”
“I remember our first meeting. You came here, nervous, and you laid on my bed naked. I went down on you. Afterward you said it was the best orgasm you ever had. Do you remember?”
“Yes, and I meant it.”
“Well, that’s how I felt when my father entered me, both mouth and vagina. It’s a different kind of special. The more you think about it, the more you’ll understand.”
The conversation ends with Anna rolling out of bed and putting on her undergarments. Her nipples usually turn soft a while after sex, this time they’re still erect as she remains stimulated. She smiles at me as she puts on her pants.
***
Work has consumed much of my time, with endless stacks of papers to grade and countless essays to read. The hours spent pouring over each essay have taken a toll, leaving me yearning for Anna so I can escape the relentless cycle of work.
I’m often told that I work too hard. I notice most teachers grade with ease. It’s not that they don’t care, they care about all students. It’s more that I have compulsive tendencies and it’s been that way my whole life. My mind cannot rest until everything aligns perfectly, leaving little room for relaxation. It’s been that way since I was young, through college, now with my career, and also as a mother to a 20 year old son.
Being a mother. Yes. The pride and joy of my life. Being a mother is the center of my universe. The responsibility and privilege of nurturing him, guiding him through ups and downs, and witnessing his growth is both humbling and awe-inspiring. For me, there is no greater honor than being entrusted with the role of motherhood.
It’s sad that this metaphorical sea of love is poisoned by the content Anna has shown me. But so far she’s right, it’s all I think about. The visual of Anna and her father having sexual interactions is ingrained in my head, sometimes I’ll purposely wonder about it, sometimes it pops into my thoughts at random.
We haven’t seen each other for two weeks, but we still text about normal things. She sends me videos, three total, and I never reply to them. I do, however, watch them. I suspect Anna knows I’ve been watching the content because she knows my curiosities.
All three videos have the same thing in common, a faceless middle-aged white man holding the phone camera and wielding the big cock that goes inside of her. She cums like crazy each time. The man is always faceless in the videos, but I regularly view Anna’s social media pages and have seen pictures of her father and his Instagram account. It’s definitely him. The father.
In the last few days, the dam broke and I masturbated to one of the videos. A clip of Anna on her knees giving her father oral sex in his living room, with family pictures in the background. Perhaps it was inevitable. It made me cum. Fast.
Porn was never my thing. To my taste, 95% of it is sleazy. I prefer artistic nude scenes in stylish movies or tv shows. Anna’s content is basic homemade porn recorded with the latest in-your-pocket phone technology. It’s not something I’d seek online for random couples. Again, I find it sleazy. But I like it because it’s her and how euphoric she looks in these clips.
And if I’m really, truly, madly honest, I like that it’s her father.
She’s right that once the seal of taboo is broken, it’s broken forever, whether it’s me eating her pussy, or her doing these things with her father. I’m curious about learning more but I wouldn’t dare ask her. I’m ashamed of liking this. I’m even more ashamed discussing this with her because she’ll know I’m into it.
At night, as I sit down for dinner with my son Patrick, a lingering sense of unease taints our once peaceful meals. The weight of these perversions remains heavy on my mind. Everything feels corrupted. Beyond normal small talk, I’m almost at a loss for words as we’re eating pan seared chicken with potatoes and salad.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says.
“Sure, what is it?”
“My professor is recommending me for a summer program. He’ll personally write a recommendation letter. It’s like a cool workshop, very realistic, I’ll get to do lab experiments and be involved with different projects led by professionals. This will look incredible on my resume when I’m looking for a job.”
The light in Patrick’s eyes sparkle and I’m so happy for him. He’s a smart young man, hard working, and his ambition is always fun to watch. He used to be a handful growing up, always up to something, always causing mischief around the house which pushed my buttons, but now he’s channeled that energy into something positive.
I keep my enthusiasm at bay because he’s lingering, like he’s about to drop a bombshell.
“But?” I ask.
“But it’ll cost about $15,000 because the program is in MIT and the course and lodging are included. It’s worth every penny, I swear. These are like the top people in the field. Like I said, my professor is willing to send a recommendation letter on my behalf. It’s an exclusive thing, you know.”
My immediate reaction, as a mother, is to agree wholeheartedly and hug him. He works part-time at the campus bookstore a few hours a week for modest pay and I’m happy to help him out.
Reality strikes me though. Could I afford to go upstairs and write a check for $15,000 and hand it to him with a smile on my face? Yes, certainly. But the fact is, I’m living on a teacher’s salary and inflation has hit us hard. Since becoming single many years ago I made a conscious decision to spend a large portion of my income on a nice home to make up for Patrick being without a father. While I want nothing more than to support his continued education, I also have to consider the long-term implications.
Then a thought crosses my mind, something which has been weighing on my heart lately and sometimes my fantasies. It’s an unconventional solution, one that would unleash forces outside of my control, and it makes my legs cross and I squirm in my seat.
I think of Anna.
“Everything has to be upfront?” I ask. “No payment plans? No scholarships?”
“These are serious people, so yeah, everything has to be up front. I can show you brochures and send you links to websites later. You’ll be amazed by what they offer.”
Once again, my thoughts return to Anna, her proposition lingers in my mind. The allure of fast money becomes too difficult to ignore despite the sinful nature of her offer. I sit and look at my son, my beautiful son, thinking about how much joining this program means to him. I get the sense that a number of his friends are going and he’ll be missing a great time if he stays home for the summer.
“Maybe we can discuss this more tonight,” I say. “After the dishes I’d like to look at the brochures for a better understanding. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
He smiles. “So the price is okay, right? I can always pay you back in the future.”
“We’ll talk more tonight. For now, let’s enjoy our dinner.”
There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as we finish eating and there’s a stirring sensation between my legs. Patrick is thinking about what a great time he’ll have for this summer program at MIT, and like the average parent in this situation, I’m dreading the financial cost.
I still consider just writing a check and that will be that. We’d have to save money in other areas, order from restaurants less often, that sort of thing. I’ve always been fiscally responsible. We live an okay, middle-class lifestyle and I make a decent salary. But again, being a single parent has often meant that I compensate for a lack of a father figure, with finances.
Summer camps, the latest video games, nice clothes, digital subscriptions. These things cost money and I’ve always been happy to pay. But $15,000 in today’s economic reality is a different conversation.
Patrick offers to wash the dishes but I insist, saying that I’m still buzzed from a coffee I had earlier. The truth is that I just want to be alone for a while. I need to think, to clear my head. I want to avoid destroying my life and my relationship with my son. A relationship that means everything to me, and it feels like my life is flashing before my eyes while I soap the dishes, wondering what kind of mother I am.
I undress in my bedroom with the door left open. That’s uncharacteristic of me. I always close the door, but in many ways this is a test run, an exploration of possibilities, if it comes to that. I dig through my closet for a matching pair of red lace bra and panties. I’ve worn this for Anna who says it’s a great combination on me.
When I stand naked in front of the mirror, I think for a moment, then decide to ditch the undergarments. I decide to wear cotton lounge pants, with a loose white camisole top, with an even looser robe over that. No bra or panties beneath. The robe I leave untied, looking at the finished product in the mirror. Way too much of my chest is showing, bearing the top curves of my breasts.
I go to Patrick’s room where he’s expecting me. But he’s not expecting the way I’m dressed. His eyes look up and down, mostly at the round globes on my chest, sometimes at the top of my breasts where skin is showing. I wonder if my nipples are poking through the fabric yet. All of this happens within the span of a few seconds when I enter the room.
We sit on the bed and he starts discussing the trip, keeping his eyes away from my boobs. I think about what Anna told me before about her perspective on religion. It’s all I can think about while listening to Patrick explain the different aspects listed on the brochure.
Anna had a point when she said that our creator knows us, whether we abide by the rules or not. God created us, after all. God knows our thoughts, our feelings, and our actions.
Our creator has given us free will, allowing us to choose between good and evil, kindness and cruelty, love and hate. With this free will, there is a vested interest in us from God, who desires our happiness and fulfillment. God wants us to use our free will wisely, honoring them and bringing them glory. Although we aren’t perfect and make mistakes that can hurt others or ourselves, our creator understands that we are capable of growth and change. I pray for forgiveness when mistakes are made, and my heart is filled with love for humanity, God, and my son.
Patrick is pointing to the last page of the brochure which focuses on the $15,000 and where the money is going toward. His voice squeaks, timid to ask for that much cash, but he’s insistent that it’s worth every penny. I’m not listening that closely to what he says. I realize that I’ve missed most of what he said. Frankly, I don’t really care about this discussion.
I lift the front of my camisole with both hands and reveal my bare breasts. The room falls silent as his eyes fixate on my exposed flesh, him noticing the undeniable evidence of my arousal: brown nipples which are erect. Patrick is speechless. This moment is unlike any we’ve shared before. It’s a strange feeling because over the years, we’ve had heart-to-heart conversations, that’s been very important as a single mother. But I’ve always been careful to guard my body since he came of age.
Now it’s the opposite. I don’t want to hear from him. I just want him to see me, to appreciate what I’m offering. How is a young man supposed to act seeing the breasts of his mother? This isn’t something that’s taught in parenting courses or books. This isn’t the least bit normal. Nonetheless, it’s what I’m offering to my son, and when I look down I see what appears to be a budding erection through his shorts.
Anna and Her RecordingsThe funny thing about intense sexual curiosities is that once they grab hold of your psyche, you see it everywhere. Every older white man of a certain build reminds me of my father. Every older woman with a mocha complexion reminds me of Salumeh and what she’s going through with her son. I swear I never pressured her. I’ve only mentioned it once and that kind of took hold of her. I’ve also sent her a few videos as a tease, but whatever.
I work as a barista at a Marriott Hotel in the downtown area. It’s an honest job, cute outfit, I enjoy being around my coworkers and meeting cool people everyday, and the salary is pretty good. None of my coworkers know about my other life.
When my shift finishes that afternoon, I check my text messages, one stands out.
Salumeh: Did you get my email?
Me: Yes, i got it, haven’t had a chance to look yet, so fucking excited
Salumeh: You should be. I’m so nervous sharing this
Me: Dont be nervous. Youll be anonymous. I’ll message you tonight when i go through everything
The money isn’t for Salumeh, but for her son. In my apartment living room two weeks ago, after eating each other out, we laid on the couch and she rested her head on my chest. She told me everything about her son’s trip and all the details. I thought it was sweet how much she cared, I mean, obviously a mother cares, but there was a strong sense of pride in her voice. Their love is palpable.
I wave goodbye to my boss and colleagues and walk to my car still wearing the cute uniform. There’s a pep in my step. A joy in my heart. Files of real incest are waiting for me and my online subscribers are excited from all the teasers I’ve given them. So far I’ve uploaded a couple pictures of Salumeh’s voluptuous breasts. I took them last week, while she was holding her tits forward for the cam.
Once in my apartment I undress and ditch the bra and slip into a loose tshirt and shorts. I use the bathroom and then pour myself some juice, then sit in the dining room with my laptop. Finally, it’s the email from a few hours ago, now I get to open it.
Dear Anna,
I’ll get straight to the point. Making this content has been the most difficult and rewarding experience of my life. I prayed at night, sometimes after it happened when Patrick went back to his room. It was a constant battle between my desires and the guilt which has been plaguing my conscience recently. And through it all, I discovered a strength within myself that I never knew existed.
Everything was planned beforehand. I took the lead, Patrick followed my orders. It looks like porn you’d see online, but really it was like a job. Is this what being an adult content creator is supposed to feel like? Although I approached it like a job, I was mindful that it’s my son. How could I ever ignore that? Patrick had the same view, but he kept things professional. I admire him even more for that. The orgasms were divine. Not something which could be faked.
You probably think that sounds cliche and sappy. You clearly have a different view of human sexuality. I’ve been grappling with sexuality my entire life, while you have a firm handle on yours. I envy you. I hope you know that.
Here’s the first set we made this week. More to come. Enjoy.
Salumeh
Our deal is a 50/50 split of the profits. My half is from promoting and selling the content, the other half goes to her son’s bank account. The idea is that it’s her son’s job, so Patrick can pay for his own trip. This is Salumeh’s moral justification, though let’s be honest, the woman is sexually repressed and she’s making up for lost time. Their faces will be mostly blurred and their voices will be lightly modified.
I watch the first video, which is an introductory thing I requested from them because subscribers crave the authenticity aspect. That’s what they’re paying for. Salumeh and her son are sitting on the living room couch, dressed in their normal home clothes, talking to the camera, explaining the nature of their mom/son relationship. Salumeh speaks in a pleasant and formal tone, even when it comes to sex. Her teaching voice.
This is my first time seeing her home and I love how cultured and wholesome she is. Everything is neat. The meticulously arranged decor, the pristine cleanliness, and the tasteful artwork all reflect her personality. The video ends with Salumeh showing a few home photos that are framed in the living room. She uses her finger to block their faces, but it’s proof to the online community that they’re the real thing.
My eyes scan the list of files. I should be going through them in order because they’re listed by date and I’d be able to see their evolution, but the file name ‘first-orgasm-together’ grabs my attention and makes my thighs clench.
I play the video and it reveals Salumeh bare in her bedroom on the second floor. The room has two adjacent windows and the curtains are wide open. It’s broad daylight and there are luscious green trees and charming houses next door. It’s yet another glimpse into her conventional, ho-hum world. She lives in the quiet suburbs, just like my father, and much like the relationship with my father, there’s fucking involved.
Salumeh is naked in all her glory and she’s bent over with her hands planted on the windowsill. Her skin is mocha. Her nipples are dark and erect. Her body is thick with full thighs and a nice butt. Patrick is behind her, forcefully pounding away and causing the flesh of her thick thighs to ripple, grabbing her long black hair which flails around from the bouncing. Her breasts sway from the bent over position and her pointed nipples express her desire.
Every so often she tilts her head back and I can see the lust on her face. Her expression is the embodiment of unbridled desire. The sunlight at this hour accentuates her figure and I notice that her skin starts to glisten with sweat from this intense activity. Her tantalizing moans blend with the sound of her flesh being pounded, that slapping sound from Patrick fucking away at his mother’s backside. God, this woman can take a real fucking. Not only can I see the flesh of Salumeh’s ass ripple from the slamming, but I notice the flesh around her belly and lower back start to ripple as well. With each thrust, her body responds to this pleasure. Her toes curl into the carpet.
Not even I could do this to Salumeh. Not with my tongue, not with my fingers, not with the six inch strap-on I’ve used on her. And I’m an expert in making women cum! Her son looks like a regularly built young man. The only explanation is that it’s the power of incest. It’s the drug I’ve been telling her about, which can only be understood once experienced.
I could watch this all day, but I’m curious what other tricks Salumeh has to offer.
A clip titled ‘blowjob1’ gets my attention because I’ve never seen her sucking a dick before. I’m captivated by the sight of Salumeh with a hard cock near her face. She’s in her bedroom wearing a white blouse, kneeling on the floor, while her son lays naked on the bed. I’ve seen that tired look on her face before, it suggests she recently got home from a long day teaching at school. My favorite Persian MILF teacher. Her long black hair is parted down the middle and tied in a loose bun which makes her look so pretty, but really it’s to keep the hair out of her mouth. Now in the privacy of her bedroom, she seeks solace in her son’s penis. Kneeling on a soft cushion, she indulges in a simple pleasure — a mouthwatering dick. Her son’s. Watching her wrap her lips around the shaft sends a shiver down my spine.
The video is almost 20 minutes long and I skim to the point where she’s taking the cock to her throat. Or at least teasing the entrance to her throat. Her head is bouncing up and down, slow and controlled. I’m not totally sure if it’s their first blowjob. There’s an ease in which she’s sucking, but she’s still so nervous. Her hand squeezes her son’s thigh so hard it might leave a bruise. An act that shows jitters. I know what she’s going through. I’ve been there with my father.
I skim the video and my heart nearly stops when a burst of thick white fluid leaks from her mouth. The cum startles Salumeh, which makes it seem like it’s her first time sucking him, otherwise she’d have anticipated how much Patrick cums on a regular basis. She holds firm, like a good mother. And like a good mother she finishes sucking until her son is drained, then she pulls her mouth away and licks, making sure to clean everything and have a good taste.
The video ‘blowjob2’ shows a much different scene. Here she’s fully naked on her knees, it’s night time in the living room, curtains closed, all the lights on, and her hair is a raging mess. The well-kept woman is long gone. She’s sweaty and ragged. This must be the ending of a hard fucking she got in another video. Her eyes look glazed over from hot sex and her tongue is sticking out like a whore.
Her son steps into the video frame and gives her what she craves. Patrick is jerking a wet cock, no doubt he’d been fucking her pussy raw. When the cock is inches from her face, Salumeh sticks her tongue out even further. They both moan, Patrick holds her head still, the cum erupts onto Salumeh’s tongue. Her face is contorted until the cum glazes her mouth and then I can see her relax, resigned to her fate of being an incest mother.
What makes this video so fucking special is that after her mouth is loaded, she looks into the camera and swallows. Patrick takes the phone and brings it closer to her face for a perfect angle. It’s her eyes. They’re so alive. And then she sports an embarrassed smile after taking the big gulp. The camera pulls back and I see her naked and sweaty and it’s obvious they’d been having sex on the floor. I understand the look on her face, how the blowjob takes away the stress and exhaustion of a busy day. I consider this to be an act of self-care, a moment of bliss, reminding herself of the importance of finding joy in life’s simplest pleasures.
At night I microwave packaged lasagna and have fresh salad and some light dressing. I’d spent the last three hours editing and my eyes are exhausted.
I text Salumeh before having my dinner.
Me: You are a freaking GODDESS amongst women. Im literally obsessed with you. Can you come over tommorow? Im done editing. We can finalize the tier packages and descriptions before i start selling content to my subscribers
I unwind and eat while watching tv. Minutes later she texts back.
Salumeh: Hi, love. I should clarify, im staying out of this business. Everything is between you and Patrick, this is his business, after all.
Me: So youre just supplying the fucking/sucking, eh?
Salumeh: As long as it pays for his summer program and keeps him busy, then yes, Im supplying the fucking/sucking and you two can manage your buisness
Me: Wonderful mom, or bad mom?
Salumeh: The very worst : )
Me: I LOVE that you can be a good mom and a total taboo uninhibited slut
Salumeh: What can i say? I’ve dedicated my life to my son and its led to this. We can discuss this more on friday after work with my face between your legs
Me: Bad mom
I turn off the tv because everything else pales in comparison to the gold mine on my computer. I take my food and drink and sit in front of the laptop, playing the video of Salumeh naked on her back, legs spread on her bed, while her son is thrusting away at her dripping wet cunt. It’s taken from the son’s point-of-view, so the viewer gets to see the twisted expressions on her face, complete euphoria mixed with absolute shame.
The End
be well and take care
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