Helping Mom Get Over It: Part Two

The house was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas outside and the faint creak of floorboards under Ethan’s bare feet. Midnight painted the hallway in shadow as he crept toward Rachel’s bedroom, his phone clutched tight, the TranceMaster app glowing like a dirty secret. His heart thudded, a mix of nerves and raw need. He’d barely slept after the living room session—her moans, those hard nipples, haunted him. His cock had been half-stiff all day, and now it tented his boxers, demanding more.

Her door was ajar, a sliver of moonlight spilling onto the carpet. Ethan nudged it open, breath catching as he saw her. Rachel lay sprawled on the bed, sheets tangled around her legs, a flimsy nightgown riding up her hips. The fabric clung to her curves, her fat tits spilling sideways, one nipple peeking out where the strap had slipped. She snored softly, oblivious, and Ethan’s mouth watered. Fuck, she was a wet dream begging to happen.

He eased onto the edge of the mattress, the springs dipping under his weight. His dick throbbed, precum already soaking his boxers. “Mom,” he whispered, testing. No response—just a mumble and a shift, her thighs parting wider. He could see the outline of her pussy through the nightgown, plump and inviting, and his hand twitched toward it before he stopped himself.

“Gotta do this right,” he muttered, opening the app. The pulsing chime filled the silence, low and hypnotic, and he leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. “Hey, Mom, listen to me. You’re sinking again, like before. Deep and warm.”

Rachel’s snoring hitched, then smoothed into slow, rhythmic breaths. Her lips parted, a faint “mmm” slipping out, and Ethan’s cock jumped. “That’s it,” he said, voice husky. “Float down, deeper. You hear only me, feel only me.”

Her head lolled toward him, blonde hair fanning across the pillow. “Ethan…” she slurred, barely audible, and his gut clenched. She was in—tranced out, his to play with. Guilt flickered, but the sight of her half-naked, helpless, snuffed it out.

“Let’s make it good,” he said, more to himself. He licked his lips, staring at her tits, then spoke firm and clear. “You’re warm all over, Mom. It’s spreading—down your chest, your belly, between your legs. A hot, tingly buzz. Feel it.”

She whimpered, a soft, needy sound, and her thighs rubbed together, the nightgown hiking higher. Ethan’s eyes locked on her crotch—fuck, was that a wet spot? His hand slid to his boxers, gripping his dick through the fabric. “Tell me what you feel,” he commanded.

“Hot,” she moaned, voice thick with sleep and something dirtier. “Tingly… down there.”

“Down where?” he pressed, stroking himself slow, his balls tightening.

“My… pussy,” she breathed, and Ethan nearly came right then. His sweet mom, saying pussy like a slut in a trance—it was too fucking much. Her hand twitched, drifting toward her thigh, and he leaned closer, voice dropping to a growl.

“Yeah, your pussy’s buzzing, isn’t it? Touch it. Feel how good it is.”

Her fingers slid under the nightgown, brushing her cunt, and she gasped, hips bucking slightly. Ethan’s breath ragged as he watched her rub herself, clumsy but desperate, her juices slicking her thighs. “Ethan,” she whined, and his name on her lips snapped something in him.

“Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, shoving his boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick and leaking, and he fisted it hard, matching her rhythm. “Keep going. Tell me how it feels.”

“So wet,” she panted, fingers circling her clit. “So good… baby…”

Baby. The word hit him like a freight train, filthy and wrong and perfect. He pumped faster, precum dripping onto the sheets, his eyes glued to her writhing body. Her tits bounced as she squirmed, the nightgown slipping fully off one shoulder, and he imagined sucking those nipples, biting them till she screamed.

“You love it, don’t you?” he rasped. “Love feeling like a horny little slut for me.”

“Yes,” she moaned, louder now, her pussy making wet, sloppy sounds. “Yes, Ethan…”

He bit his lip, stifling a grunt as his orgasm built. She was fingering herself for him—his mom, his fucking goddess—and he couldn’t hold back. “Cum for me,” he ordered, voice shaking. “Cum hard, right now.”

Her back arched, a choked cry tearing from her throat as she came, thighs trembling, cunt soaking the sheets. Ethan lost it, stroking himself frantic, and exploded, cum spurting across his hand, splattering the bed. He gasped, head spinning, watching her slump back, spent and panting.

“Fuck,” he whispered, chest heaving. She was still tranced, limp, her hand resting on her dripping pussy. He wiped his sticky fingers on his boxers, guilt creeping in now that his balls were empty. What the hell was he doing?

“Okay, Mom,” he said, softer now, pulling the app’s script together. “You’re gonna sleep deep. When you wake up, you’ll feel amazing—relaxed, happy. You won’t remember this, just… a good dream.”

“Good dream,” she echoed, voice fading as her breathing slowed. Ethan tugged the sheet over her, hiding that gorgeous, fucked-out body, and stood on shaky legs. His cock twitched, already half-hard again, but he forced himself to leave.

Back in his room, he collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The app glowed on his phone, tempting him to go again, but he tossed it aside. “Tomorrow,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He could still hear her moans, smell her arousal—his mom, turned into his dirty toy. Shame burned, but the ache in his dick promised more.

Sleep took him fast, dreams swirling with her voice, her cunt, her calling him baby. When he woke, the sun was up, and the house smelled of coffee. He stumbled to the kitchen, boxers tented, and froze. Rachel stood at the counter, humming, her nightgown swapped for a tight tank top and shorts. She turned, smiling bright.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, handing him a mug. “I slept like a rock. That hypnosis shit’s magic.”

“Yeah?” He took the coffee, voice rough, his dick stiffening at the memory of her fingering herself. “Glad it worked.”

“Better than worked—I feel fucking fantastic.” She laughed, stretching, her tits straining the fabric. “You’re doing it again tonight, right?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, sipping to hide his grin. “Whatever you want, Mom.”

She winked, oblivious, and sashayed to the sink. Ethan watched her ass bounce, his mind already plotting. Tonight, he’d push deeper—make her beg, make her his. The app was just the start.