Helping Mom Get Over It: Part Three

The kitchen shone with morning light, the air thick with coffee and tension. Ethan slouched at the table, mug in hand, his dark eyes tracking Rachel as she moved. She wore a tight tank top and denim shorts, her blonde hair loose, brushing her shoulders. Her tits swayed with each step, nipples stiff against the fabric, and Ethan’s cock stirred, memories of last night—her moaning, fingering her wet cunt—flooding back. He’d barely slept, jerking off twice more to the sound of her tranced-out “baby” echoing in his skull.

“Eggs?” Rachel asked, cracking one into a skillet. Her voice was chipper, oblivious to the filthy shit she’d done under his command.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, shifting to hide the bulge in his sweats. She’d said she felt fucking fantastic, and it showed—her skin glowed, her hips had an extra swing. He wondered if her pussy was still tingling, if she’d woken up wet and confused.

She slid a plate in front of him, sunny-side-up eggs jiggling like her tits, and leaned against the counter. “So, what’s the plan today? More of your magic hypnosis?”

Ethan choked on his coffee, coughing to cover the heat rushing to his groin. “Uh, if you want. Worked pretty good last night, huh?”

“God, yes.” She grinned, sipping her own mug. “I had these crazy dreams—hot, weird ones. Woke up feeling like I ran a marathon, but in a good way.”

“Hot dreams?” He raised a brow, fork hovering. His dick pulsed—did she remember his voice, her own slutty moans?

Her cheeks pinked, and she laughed, brushing it off. “Yeah, you know, steamy stuff. Don’t make me spill, perv.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied, smirking. Inside, he was screaming to know—had she dreamed of his cock? Her fingers in her pussy? He shoveled eggs into his mouth, plotting. Breakfast dragged, her every move—bending to grab a napkin, licking yolk off her lip—driving him nuts. By the time she cleared the plates, he was rock-hard, ready to crack.

“Living room, ten minutes,” he said, standing abruptly. “Round two of the trance shit.”

“Bossy today,” she teased, but nodded. “Give me a sec to freshen up.”

Ethan bolted to his room, grabbing his phone. The TranceMaster app waited, its chime a siren call. He paced, stroking his dick through his sweats, prepping himself. Last night was a taste—today, he’d dig deeper, make her spill every dirty thought. Guilt gnawed, but his balls ached louder.

When he hit the living room, Rachel was there, sprawled on the couch in a fresh tank top—red this time, clinging like sin—and those same shorts. She kicked her feet up, toes wiggling. “Ready, maestro.”

“Fuck yeah,” he muttered, sitting beside her. Her coconut scent hit him, and his cock twitched. “Close your eyes, same drill. Deep breaths.”

She obeyed, lashes fluttering shut, chest rising slow. Ethan started the app, its pulse filling the room, and leaned in. “Float down, Mom. Warm water, heavy limbs. Sink deep.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, slumping into the cushions. Her lips parted, breath soft, and Ethan’s pulse raced. She was his again—pliable, perfect.

“Deeper,” he said, voice low, firm. “Count back from ten. Slow.”

“Ten,” she murmured. “Nine… eight…” Her thighs shifted, shorts riding up, and Ethan’s eyes locked on the sliver of skin above her waistband. By “five,” she was limp, a ragdoll, and he grinned.

“Good girl,” he whispered, testing. Her lips twitched—a smile?—and his dick throbbed. “You feel that tingle, don’t you? From my voice?”

“Yes,” she breathed, voice thick, dreamy. “All over… so good.”

“Where’s it strongest?” He leaned closer, smelling her heat.

“My… chest,” she slurred. “And… lower.”

“Lower where?” he pressed, hand hovering over his fly. “Say it.”

“My pussy,” she moaned, and Ethan groaned, unzipping himself. His cock sprang free, leaking, and he gripped it tight.

“Fuck, Mom, you’re killing me,” he rasped. “What do you want down there? Tell me your dreams.”

She squirmed, thighs rubbing, a wet spot blooming on her shorts. “I… dreamed of you,” she confessed, voice shaky. “Touching me… your mouth…”

“My mouth?” He stroked himself slow, precum slicking his fist. “Where?”

“On my… cock,” she mumbled, then froze, brow furrowing. “No… I mean…”

Ethan’s heart stopped—cock? Did she mean sucking him? His mind spun, but he pounced. “You want my mouth on you, don’t you? Say it.”

“Yes,” she whined, correcting herself. “Your mouth… on my pussy… sucking…”

“Fucking hell,” he growled, pumping faster. “You’re a dirty slut, Mom. Beg for it.”

“Please,” she gasped, hips bucking. “Ethan, suck me… please…”

He couldn’t take it—her begging, tranced-out and dripping for him. He shoved his sweats down, kneeling between her legs. “Spread ‘em,” he ordered, and she did, shorts taut, cunt outlined and soaked. He yanked them aside, her pussy glistening, pink and swollen, and dove in.

“Oh God,” she moaned as his tongue hit her clit, lapping hard. She tasted sweet and musky, her juices coating his chin, and Ethan sucked like a starved man, her tranced whimpers driving him wild.

“Ethan… baby…” she panted, hands clawing the couch. Her tits bounced free from the tank top, nipples hard, and he reached up, pinching one. She screamed, cunt clenching, and he tongue-fucked her deeper, nose buried in her folds.

“You love this,” he growled against her, voice muffled. “Love your son eating your sloppy pussy.”

“Yes,” she sobbed, thrashing. “Yes, baby, don’t stop…”

He didn’t—sucked her clit till she bucked, cumming hard, juices flooding his mouth. Ethan groaned, stroking himself frantic, and blew his load onto the floor, cum splattering as she shuddered through aftershocks.

Panting, he pulled back, her pussy still twitching, shorts drenched. She lay limp, eyes shut, tranced and fucked-out. “Sleep now,” he rasped, wiping his face. “Forget this—just a hot dream. Wake up happy.”

“Happy,” she echoed, voice fading. Ethan tugged her shorts straight, covered her tits, and stumbled to his feet, dick dripping. He grabbed a throw blanket, draping it over her, and bolted to the bathroom.

Splashing water on his face, he stared at the mirror—wild eyes, cum-stained sweats. “What the fuck,” he muttered, guilt crashing in. He’d eaten his mom’s cunt, made her beg, and she didn’t even know. His cock twitched, already hardening again, and he cursed.

Back in the living room, Rachel stirred an hour later, blinking awake. “Wow,” she mumbled, stretching. “Fell asleep, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, voice tight, perched on the armchair. “Good nap?”

“Best ever.” She grinned, oblivious, her shorts still damp. “Those dreams again—wild. You’re a miracle worker.”

“Anytime,” he croaked, forcing a smile. She bounced off to shower, and he sank into the couch, her taste still on his tongue. He was in deep—too deep to stop.