She told him no. She told him it was wrong, that he was her son, that she had raised him better than this. But the words came out shaky, her voice cracking as he shoved her forward over the kitchen table. The wood pressed hard into her tits through her thin robe. Her hands scrambled for purchase but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back with one strong grip.
"Shut the fuck up and take it," he growled, yanking the robe up over her ass. The cool air hit her bare skin. She wasn't wearing panties. She never did around the house. That was her first mistake. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her cheeks, spreading them wide. She felt the tight ring of her asshole exposed, vulnerable, and she clenched hard on instinct.
"Please, don't," she begged, voice raw. "Not there. Anything but that."
He laughed low and mean, the sound vibrating against her spine as he leaned over her. "You think you get to choose? This ass has been teasing me for years. Bending over in those little shorts, shaking it while you clean. Time to pay up."
She heard the rasp of his zipper. His cock slapped hot and heavy between her cheeks. Thick, already leaking, the head nudging right against her dry hole. He spit once, a thick glob landing right on target, and rubbed it around with the crown. It wasn't enough.
Not nearly.
He pushed. She screamed. The burn was immediate and vicious as the fat head forced past the tight muscle. Her asshole stretched around him, burning like fire, the ring burning as it gave way. Inch by inch he sank in, ignoring her thrashing, ignoring the way her body tried to expel him. He just kept driving forward until his balls pressed against her pussy and he was buried balls-deep in her ass.
"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted, pulling back slow so she felt every ridge of his cock scraping her insides. Then he slammed home again. The table creaked under them. Her tits flattened against the wood with every thrust. He fucked her ass like he owned it, hard, deep, no mercy. Each stroke punched the air out of her lungs.
Tears leaked from her eyes but her cunt betrayed her. She could feel herself getting wet, slick dripping down her thighs even as her ass clenched and fluttered around the brutal invasion. He noticed. Of course he did.
"Look at that," he said, reaching under her to slap her pussy. "Mom's getting off on getting her ass raped. Dirty fucking slut."
He pulled out halfway, spit again on his shaft, and drove back in. The wet sound was filthy. He set a punishing rhythm, hips slapping her ass cheeks red. Every time he bottomed out she felt it in her guts, deep and wrong and overwhelming. Her legs shook. She stopped fighting the hold on her wrists and just took it, moaning now, broken little sounds she couldn't stop.
He reached around and rubbed her clit in rough circles. "Come with my cock in your ass. Do it."
She did. The orgasm ripped through her hard, her asshole pulsing around his thick shaft, her pussy gushing onto his fingers. He laughed again, mean and satisfied, and fucked her through it, using her clenching hole to get himself off.
When he came he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, flooding her guts with hot spurts. She felt every pulse, felt herself overflowing around his cock. He didn't pull out right away. He stayed inside her, softening slowly, grinding lazy circles while she lay there trembling, ass sore and used, cum leaking out when he finally withdrew.
He slapped her ass one last time, watching the red handprint bloom. "Next time you say no, I'm tying you down first."
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her body was still shaking, her asshole twitching, empty and aching and already wanting more even as shame burned her face. He left her there, bent over the table, robe bunched at her waist, cum dripping down her thighs. The kitchen was quiet except for her ragged breathing.
She knew this wasn't the last time. Not by a long shot. And the worst part was how wet she still was.
