It was summer break, and I was home from college. I should’ve been applying for a summer job or at least pretending to be productive, but instead I was lying on my stomach in athletic shorts, the blanket half covering my ass, and watching a Best Of Deepthroat compilation on my phone. I scrolled, hypnotized by how the porn stars swallowed seven-inch cocks like it was second nature.
Then the door opened a crack. “Jay, do you want—” My mom’s voice stopped mid-syllable.
My hand twitched. The phone slipped and, in my panic, I fumbled it straight onto the hardwood with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. I yanked my hand back, yanked the waistband up with my thumb, and rolled onto my back like I’d been watching nature documentaries, not porn.
She opened the door all the way, and my mother stood in the doorway, wearing yoga pants and a tight V-neck shirt. Hair loose, dark and shiny. Lips, her signature, and my genetic inheritance, painted a deep plum that left a mark on any teacup dumb enough to get between her and her honey. She was 38 and looked, no exaggeration, exactly like the MILFs my friends drooled over. Natural Ds’s, blue eyes, and not a wrinkle or sag anywhere.
She looked at the phone on the floor, then at me. There was a dangerous twitch at the corner of her mouth, and the way her arms crossed under her breasts said she wasn’t about to let me off easy, especially when she gave them a lift that deepened her cleavage.
“Should I come back?” she said, like she’d caught me rearranging the sock drawer, not whacking it to two girls one-cupping an entire cock.
I tried to speak, but what came out was a tiny choking noise that sounded more like a rusty gate than an apology.
She snorted. “Don’t act like I didn’t catch your browser history last Christmas. Relax, Jay.” She picked up the phone, glanced at the still-playing video, and handed it back to me. “You know, I used to be really good at that.”
My brain rebooted. Used to be? At what, oh, oh fuck. “Uh,” I said, eloquent as ever. My face was probably nuclear pink. “I … what?”
She sat on the edge of the bed, just out of arm’s reach. The mattress dipped under her weight, and I could see, in three distinct bulges, the outline of her ass where the lycra gripped her. My friends weren’t lying: Mom’s curves were comic book level, D-cup at minimum. She wore makeup even when she didn’t leave the house, always with a hint of eyeliner, lashes dark enough to look fake but weren’t, and her lips were almost always glossy, even at breakfast, but the deep plum was the sexiest.
She smirked and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I said, I used to be really good at that … Deepthroat. It was, what’s the word, a hidden talent.” She grinned at her own joke, bright and unashamed, the way moms sometimes are about recipes or jazzercise classes or TikTok hacks.
I tried not to think about my own dick, which was now half hard and climbing. “Really?”
She nodded. “You know, when you get older, the stuff you think is weird or gross just kind of…” She shrugged. “Turns out, it’s not that weird at all, or gross. Sometimes it’s even fun.”
If she’d wanted to kill me, this would have been the moment. She looked right at me, as if I weren’t her son, but some friend’s cousin she could be real with. The way her mouth moved over the word fun made my skin tingle. And the way she leaned in, elbows on her knees, gave me a full, unavoidable view straight down her V-neck. A shadow of a lacy bra, the perfect, almost spherical weight of her tits. I knew I should look away, but I didn’t.
She noticed. There was a tick of satisfaction in the way she straightened her back and crossed her legs, making the muscles in her thighs pop. “I’m not mad,” she said softly. “Just… surprised you didn’t pick something a little more creative. That’s pretty vanilla, honestly.”
I chuckled. “You’re… not mad?” I thought she’d at least be disappointed that I was inside my room watching porn instead of going out.
She grinned. “I’d be a hypocrite if I was. I was the queen of blowjobs in college. Ask anyone.” She winked, then cackled at her own joke. “Not literally. Don’t actually ask anyone. But I could give lessons.”
There was a pause. I wanted to say something to break the silence, but I also wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
She patted the bed next to her. “Come on. Don’t make it weird. Tell me what’s so fascinating about watching those girls nearly pass out.”
I sat up, awkward and tense, pulling the blanket up to my waist. “I… I don’t know. It’s just… intense, I guess. And it looks… I mean, I’d never met a girl who could do that.”
She gave me a sidelong glance, one blue eye pinning me like a butterfly on a card. “You’ve never…?” She trailed off, letting me fill in the blanks.
“Uh, no. Not like that.”
She shook her head in mock disappointment. “Generation Z, failing at sexual liberation.” She rolled her eyes. “I bet you think I’m a prude, huh? Just because I do meal preps and Pilates and have a label maker for my spice rack.”
I let myself smile a little. “Maybe.”
She reached over, ruffled my hair, and then, this is the part I swear I’ll remember until the day I die, traced her finger along my jaw. “You’re curious about deepthroat, right? I can show you the real thing. No one has to know.”
Time stopped. There’s no other way to describe it. My brain was the inside of a snow globe, all white noise and spinning flakes, and all I could hear was the heavy, wet thud of my pulse in my ears.
“I’m your mom,” I said, but it sounded weak, like the world’s lamest protest.
She tilted her head. “So? It’s not like I’m trying to seduce you. I’m just saying, if you want to see how it’s really done…”
I just sat there, hands locked in my lap.
She saw what I really wanted, of course she did, and grinned even wider. “This can stay between us. If you want.”
I think I nodded, maybe once, or maybe I just stared at her lips and the way they shone in the light from the hallway.
She scooted closer, so her thigh pressed against my hip through the blanket. “Let’s see what you’re working with, then.”
I’d never felt so naked in my life, even though I was, technically, clothed. My hands shook a little as I peeled down my shorts. The waistband stuck on my cock, which had staged a full mutiny and was now standing at, like, half mast despite the terror.
She whistled appreciatively. “Okay, not bad. Definitely not your father’s genes.”
I chuckled. She wrapped her hand around it, just the fingers, thumb pressing at the base like she was measuring for a ring. Her nails were short but painted, some kind of dark metallic blue, and she stroked up and down, slow at first, like she was testing the surface for cracks.
I groaned, couldn’t help it, and she gave a low laugh. “Sensitive, huh? That’s good.” She leaned down, just a little, and let her hair fall around my thighs like a curtain. “Don’t be nervous. You’re not the first guy to get a blowjob from a MILF.”
She squeezed, gently, and then pressed her lips to the head of my dick. The touch was barely there, like a brief kiss, but the heat of her breath made my skin go prickly all over. She kept eye contact the entire time, those eyes so blue and clear and unblinking it was almost unreal.
She licked just once, a slow drag from base to tip, tongue flat and warm. I shivered and flexed my toes, trying not to moan again.
“See?” she said. “Not so scary.”
She went back down, lips pursed this time, and took the head into her mouth. Her lipstick smeared a little on the shaft, leaving a stain like a crime scene. She swirled her tongue around the tip, sucking gently, and then, without warning, let her mouth fill with me.
I saw her cheeks hollow, her jaw flex and her lips stretch wide. The feeling was insane, way better than anything my right hand could do. The suction, the wetness, the way her tongue pressed and swirled at the same time … and most importantly, the taboo.
She came up for air. “You can grab my hair, if you want. Most guys do. It’s easier.”
I did, and it felt even better. I let my hand tangle in her dark hair, soft and smooth, and she made a tiny approving sound before sinking back down.
This time, she went deeper. I felt the head of my cock bump against the back of her throat, and she didn’t flinch. She just pushed down, inch by inch, her nose nearly touching my stomach. She paused there, throat working around me, then pulled off slowly, with a wet pop.
“You like that?” she asked, breathless and smiling. Her lipstick was totally smeared now, giving her the look of a hungover movie star, and her eyes were shiny, a little watery.
I just nodded, biting my lip.
“Good. Now let me show you how it’s done properly.”
She took a deep breath, then went down again, all the way until I felt her lips against my skin. Her hands gripped my thighs, nails digging in just enough to hurt, and she held herself there, swallowing around me. I watched as she gagged a little, eyes squeezing shut, but she didn’t let up. Her tongue kept working, lips tight around the shaft, and spit started to run down my cock, pooling at the base.
I lost track of time. Everything was heat and wet and sound: the slurp of her lips, the gentle thump of her throat, the way she moaned around my dick and the vibration shot straight to my brain.
She came up for air, strands of spit connecting her lips to the tip. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and laughed. “You’re holding up better than most. Usually by now I’d be cleaning up a mess.”
She winked and went back down, swallowing my cock whole. She bobbed up and down, taking me deeper each time, the wet sounds growing louder, sloppier and I felt the head of my cock punch against the tight ring at the back of her mouth, then slip past it. Her makeup was running now, black streaks under her eyes, but she looked up at me and I saw pride there, and mischief.
She pulled back, gasping, face a total disaster. “All the way, baby. Down my throat, just like that.” She pumped me with her fist, twisting at the top, and then, as if daring me to say no, swallowed me again, nose to base.
I heard her choke, but she kept going, tears leaking from her eyes, spit everywhere. My whole body tensed, and I felt the orgasm building.
“I’m gonna—” I tried to warn her.
She didn’t stop, just moaned louder, throat clenching around the head, cock bulging against her throat. That was it. I came, harder than I ever had. It hit her throat in thick pulses, and she swallowed, eyes fluttering. Some of it leaked from the corner of her mouth, dribbling down her chin. She kept me in her mouth, sucking and licking, until I was spent and twitching, and even then she didn’t let go … not until every drop was gone.
She pulled off with a cough, wiped her face with her fingers, then grinned at me through the mess. “Told you I was good,” she said proudly.
I flopped back, eyes closed, heart punching through my ribs.
She climbed up next to me on the bed, hair wild, face streaked, lips swollen and shiny. She wrapped her arms around me, and for a long moment, neither of us said anything. It was almost normal, almost like we were just napping after a soccer game or a bad movie.
Then she whispered, “We probably can’t do that again.”
I nodded, still speechless after mommy’s deepthroat.
“But if you ever want to, you know…” She squeezed my thigh, nails pressing little half-moons into the skin. “Finish somewhere else, I wouldn’t mind.”
“I definitely want more.”
“Great,” she said, kissing my cheek, her lips smelling faintly of cock and cum.
She rose to her feet and left my room. I stared at my softening cock, seeing her plump lipstick smeared all over it like a hot souvenir. Thank god for my hot ass mom.
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