Mark Jacobs - Sucker for mom

He grabbed his prick as soon as he had stopped shooting and shook the cum off the head. The man stood up quickly and pulled up his pants, tucking his prick back inside and zipping up as fast as he could.

"Get this bitch outa here! We can't let them pigs find her!" another man said, jumping off her and pulling up his pants. "Get her over there!" he ordered, pointing to a shadowy vestibule near a side exit.

The air was filled with the sound of zippers zinging shut.

Sheila moaned softly, half in fear and half in agony. She had been so close to an orgasm, and now it was all lost, all lost.

Two men dragged her into the dark vestibule while the others resumed their seats and tried to pretend that nothing had happened. The two men leaned her up against the wall and slapped her face until she regained at least some of her composure.

"Come on, get dressed! Get this on and get your ass outa here! There's cops outside! Hear me?" a man whispered intensely, shaking her roughly.

"Yes! Yessss! I'll go! Let me go!!" she cried, a bit too loudly.

She struggled into her panties and dress while the two men watched with wicked grins on their faces. She became suddenly aware of the aches and pains with which their rough treatment had left her, suddenly became aware of how tortured her body really was.

"Here, bitch!" one of the men spat as she opened the door, ready to escape into the shadows of the alley outside. "Take this for your trouble!"

Sheila looked down at the floor and saw a crumpled ten-dollar bill. She looked up at the cruel face of the man who had thrown it at her and spat at him. She would never trust men again, she thought.

Her heart racing, her mind burning with shame, she ran into the night and didn't stop running until she reached the safety of her car. She had to get home, had to get home to the safety of the arms of the one male who cared for her, had to get home to the safety of her son's arms.

By the time she reached the safety of the quiet beach house Sheila had managed to regain some semblance of self-control after her terrible ordeal. Her experience had been not only a physical ordeal but an emotional one as well. Not only had she suffered physical torment at the hands of the brutal rapists, but her image of herself had suffered too.

In the years since her divorce, Sheila had considered herself too good for the many men who had lusted after her, had considered herself apart from them. All men were bastards, and she had had no intention of submitting herself to their desires.

Little had she suspected that even she could succumb to the powerful urges of her long-denied desires. She had of course been forced to submit to the desires of the brutal men in the theater, but she had entered the place of her own free will and she had to admit that she had enjoyed, in a strange way, the depravity of the situation. Her sex-life had taken a new turn.

She had allowed herself to spy on her son for several days of course, had even allowed herself to admit that she loved the boy in a way no woman dared to love her son. She had even climaxed while Terry and Wendy fucked together on the beach.

But she had lusted after her handsome young son from afar, from the safety of distance. But now she had allowed herself to be sucked into the whirlpool of sexual activity of the most depraved kind imaginable. She had sucked a young boy's cock, had allowed several horny men to fuck her and use her wickedly. Although the men had filled her with revulsion, she still longed for the body-racking orgasm that had been so close in the theater.

Now that she had experienced real fucking and sucking again after so long without it, she knew that her attraction toward her son would pull her to him until she had what she so desperately wanted, until she had him in a wild night of incestuous fucking and sucking.

She knew that it was inevitable now, this union with her only son. It was only a matter of time now. She was powerless to fight the lust she felt for him. She only hoped that she could make him understand, hoped that she could make him want her as desperately as she wanted him.

The lights were off in the house when she reached home. Not wanting to disturb Terry, not wanting him to see her in such a state of disorder, Sheila tiptoed up to her room. She saw that it was after three in the morning. She wanted to fall into bed and sleep for days, but she was covered with the dried sperm of a dozen men.

She had to wash away the last traces of the brutal monsters, had to wash them out of her mind as well. She stripped off her tattered cum-splattered clothes and threw them in a hamper. Tomorrow she would burn them.

Sheila walked naked down the hall to the bathroom, being very careful not to wake her son, whose room was only a short way down the hall from hers. She stepped into a hot shower and luxuriated in the softening warmth of the spray. She lathered herself freely and finally felt clean again after her night of shame and torment. Things didn't look nearly as bad now. Her bruises would go away. The itch in her recently violated cunt was quite another matter.

Sheila couldn't resist dipping her sudsy hands between her slippery-wet legs and stroking the hot gash that had been getting her into so much trouble lately. She could still remember the feel of a hard thick cock buried deep in her hot twat, could still feel the animal warmth of it between her legs, could still feel it rubbing hard against her turgid little clitoris. Her clit was as hot as a tiny flame burning between the lips of her moist cunt.

She touched her clit. She shivered when she felt the tip of her own finger against the flesh of her super-sensitive clit. She had to do it. She had to make herself flash, had to make her cunt burn with the rushing heat of her orgasm.

Leaning back against the cold shower wall, she abandoned herself to the dark desires that drove her wild. She closed her eyes and imagined that her son was in the shower with her. She imagined that her horny son stood before her, holding his long hard cock in his hand, offering his cock to her, offering his body for her pleasure.

She imagined herself falling to her knees and taking Terry's enormous smooth erection in both hands, running her fingers all over the slippery shaft. She imagined herself looking up at him and smiling her sexiest smile, imagined seeing his boyish grin spreading over his face as he watched his mother stroke his hard-on. She imagined herself running her thumb from the root of his cock to the head, making a drop of pre-cum fluid ooze from the eye-slit. She imagined herself bending toward the boy and pursing her wet lips, imagined herself pressing those wet warm lips against the dripping head of her son's cock.

Sheila's eager fingers worked faster and faster against the silken flesh of her cunt as she imagined all the wild things she could do with Terry.

She imagined rubbing a washcloth against her son's furry groin, making a cloud of suds around his jutting cock. She imagined taking his balls in her wet hands, squeezing them, kneading them gently, weighing the sperm-filled eggs, making her son groan with excitement. She imagined feeling the boy's strong young body become suddenly hard when she plunged down over his bulging cock, somehow managing to get his huge cock-head into her pretty mouth. She imagined sucking Terry's throbbing cock deep into her throat, imagined feeling his dripping cock-head swelling against her tonsils.

Pressing her clit between her fingers, her legs shaking, Sheila imagined sucking her son until his eyes widened with lusty excitement. She imagined feeling his rod swell suddenly in her throat, imagined feeling his sperm swelling in his balls, threatening to explode as her tongue flew over the head of his sensitive rod. She imagined pulling her head back and off his cock at the last second, delaying his orgasm, making him wince with pleasure-pain. She imagined hearing a wet plop when her sucking lips pulled free of her son's penis, imagined hearing a painful gasp escape the boy's lips.