Carol Hallihan, wife and mother for over half her nearly 40 years, listened to the sound of her husband's car leaving for work.
Her son, James, was upstairs in his room. Probably still sleeping. Or was he masturbating that glorious penis, as he has done almost religiously each morning since he learned how to do it?
Would he bother now, when he can simply use her instead? Carol felt the throb in her panties reminding her what she was. She soundlessly approached her son's closed door and listened as she had done so many times. A door she had achingly longed to open and show her nude body to James.
Her husband knew what she wanted, what she needed, and blew that door off its hinges yesterday. And James, bless him, had accepted her.
Accepted the horrible slut that his mother was.
There was no way she could show him herself. That would be sick. No, it was at the command of her husband, so it wasn't her fault. And after it had begun, after she had taken her son's delicious fat cock into her mouth, everything fell into place.
The shame. The exhilaration. The agonizing display of what she was, to her own son, her beautiful James - it was the deepest low of submissive sluthood she had ever reached.
And now her tummy was doing flips in anticipation and dread of what would happen this day.
Carol knew why she lunged for that cock in the shower - why she stuffed her son's hard meat into her mouth and let him use her face like a vagina. It was to keep him from fucking her. Yes, there was yet another, lower level, the lowest a woman can go. And she was horrified to think she might to go there.
Tears welled up when her slut mind told her what would it be like. Feeling her son push his iron manhood inside her, feeling the betrayal of her awful slut cunt loving it. Hearing the laughter of her daddy husband when he would make her tell him what a bad girl she had been.
Carol felt her hand falling down into her panties. Bad girl. Touching her dirty slit again, outside of the room where that boy's big cock is. Good girl. Rub it for him. Feel how wet he makes you? Feel where that long, thick cock is going to go?
You'll let him fuck you. Oh yes, you will. He will plunge that cock to the hilt and you'll spread wide to pull in every glorious inch. He will jackhammer and stretch this slutty cunt because that's what you are. That's all you ever were. And now he knows it.
A little squeak escaped from Carol's mouth before she bit her lower lip in fear.
"Mom?" came the sound of her son on the other side of the door.
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What a night. Studying up online about women's submission fantasies. Texting with Rebecca, the spanky gal from college. Her perspective was fascinating. Not jacking off, either. Saving it up. For my own mom?
Lucid sex dreaming in the mornings is a pleasure I regretfully had to forego for early classes. Today was hot shit, wave after wave of crazy, nasty images, my hormones flooding me with whole-body rushes. This is going to be a great summer.
I hear some kind of high-pitched feminine noise outside my room. I've heard my mother out there before, I think. I used to pretend she was listening to me when I did my morning "exercises" with my dick.
"Mom?" I call out. Not a peep. I know she's there.
"Open the door," I say.
Lo and behold, the knob turns slowly and the door swings open and there she is, guilt and shame all over her slutty flushed face. Her robe is open, her tits are out, and there's a wet spot in the crotch of her underwear.
I sit up and look at her. My dick is jabbing at the covers, of course, but I don't care if she sees it. I like that she sees it.
She's hella horny, that's clear enough. Out there rubbin' her nubbin' like a nympho.
"Trot those tits over here," I tell her. When she's at the side of my bed, her panties are at my eye level, just a few feet away. I can smell her arousal.
"Were you masturbating?" I ask sternly.
Mom stops staring at my dick and hangs her head. "Yes, I was," she manages to croak. Her chin is quivering again.
I let that hang in the air and finally say, "Bad girl."
"Oh my god!" she hollers as she whips around and runs from my room. I hear the door to my parents' bedroom slam.
With a sigh I get up and tuck my balls and boner into a pair of jeans. They don't like it. I take the walk down the hall, put my hand on my parents' bedroom doorknob and open the door.
There's Mom on her stomach on their bed, face buried in a pillow. The robe is hiked way up so most of her pantied ass is on display. I sit down beside her on the bed. She turns her head away from me.
Here's where a good son is supposed to comfort his mother. We'll have a talk about what's happening and everything will work out just peachy. Except Rebecca had clued me in.
"You're not allowed to masturbate unless I give you permission," I say with a low voice, stroking her bottom. "Do you understand?"
"Okay," she whines.
"That's not the correct answer."
I cup my hand and gently spank the underside of one cheek. The sensation is magnificent.
"Yes," she whispers huskily.
Bang on, Rebecca.
"You've been bad, and you know what has to happen, don't you?"
"Yesssss."
I continue rubbing her butt through the panties and silently let her stew in her juices.
"Then you know what to do."
I'm not really sure what she is going to do, but when her hands reach back to pull down her panties, I know what I'm going to do.
It's my responsibility now, I'm laughingly telling myself as I watch my submissive Mom adjust her robe and present her beautiful bare bottom. I catch a flash of her pussy. It's glistening wet.
The sounds are what make the spanking good, I notice. It's fascinatingly erotic to hear her grunt, and then cry out, and eventually hoarsely bark when the pain completely overtakes her mind.
I start slowly and gently, of course. My mom's ass is a glory, and I take plenty of time to feel every curve, every smooth inch of her, from the firmness of her sports-trained glutes all the way to the softness of that place below where her cheeks meet, inside her thighs.
But it has to be done. Because she needs it. Needs to know that a slut deserves to be punished. Especially a slut of a mother, of all things.
"We need a name for you," I say to her while I'm letting her sob. "When it's playtime."
Then I go back to work on her red, blotchy butt cheeks.
"What shall we call you?" I say on another break, after I clamp her mouth and nose to stop the hyperventilating.
"I'm a slu-hu-hut . . . " she haltingly declares when I remove my hand.
"That's what Dad calls you."
Back to the asswhooping. Her bottom's blazing hot. There's a stain now, where her pussy has leaked onto the bedding. I have to shove my hand in there and feel it.
"What's this?"
"It's . . . ahhh . . . it's uhhh . . .mmy c-cuuuunt."
"What a lovely name." I make a fist and bounce it around, using her labia to paint her slime all over my knuckles.
