Roberta re-entered the hall, with the gleaming hot-pink dildo held aloft like a scepter, and faced the stairs. She switched off the foyer lights, confusing her son in his hiding place. Moonlight streamed between the window panes alongside the front door, marking the woman’s ample silhouette with an ominous glow. From his encampment beneath the bannister, concealed primarily in shadow, Kyle poised fetally and still as a statue.
“But I don’t have to use them. Not if I don’t want to,” Roberta grunted. Her breathing was so shallow her voice had dropped by nearly a full octave, packed with frustration and liquid horniness. “Because I have something else. Something much better than them, if I want. Which is why it’s important that you know, my adorable darling, that if you don’t come out in the next sixty seconds, I’m going to make you into my personal full-time dildo.”
The effort on Kyle’s part to avoid vomiting right then and there was monumental. The sex toy in his mother’s tight fist was easily longer than his entire body. For terror and indecision, though, he held still. In the shadow of the hall, knowing full-well he wasn’t visible to his mother, he watched Roberta peel the thong away from her crotch again and tug it over her legs. The stretch of distance on the panties over her open legs wrung them out anew, causing several new drips to cascade down her meaty thighs.
“Think of the things we could do, Kyle. Think of the things I could do with a little boy who’s oh-so misbehaved. Mommy’s pussy isn’t the only place in need of attention, after all. My lovely lady lumps, for one.” Roberta’s voice meandered dreamily now in the sick fantasy of it, growing more confident with every word. “And when I wasn’t using you… why, we’d find you a new bedroom: my panty drawer, to get you nice and acquainted with your new role in life.”
With her womanhood now exposed in the darkness, Roberta gripped the pink dildo like a dagger and arced it from the level of her eye directly into her waiting cunt. A moment of wrestling with the mound, and the dildo squished into the tunnel. Kyle flinched at the sight and sound.
“I’m counting to sixty now,” she declared. “Why don’t you count along with me, dear? One. Two. Three.” With each pulsed count, Roberta jammed the dildo deeper into her vagina, almost to the hilt of her knuckle. On the even numbers she retracted the glass rod back out, only to return on the odds. Her knees buckled as she grew dizzy with allure, but she remained standing in the front hall, naked save for her bra, knowing her son was somewhere in the blackness and witnessing the entirety of her sensual absolution. The closer Roberta came to sixty, the messier her counting became, and the mightier her dildo-ramming grew, with the smoothness and efficiency of an engine piston.
At the count of fifty, Roberta’s voice had transformed entirely to desperate, screeched moans. She staggered to her knees, and as she squeezed the dildo back inside for the fifty-ninth count, she flopped onto her back and practically ripped the toy from inside the squirting devastation of her pussy. Post-orgasmic scream, she splayed her thick limbs out on the floor and went still.
Kyle remained cemented to the floor under the bannister. The new knowledge and sensory tortures enacted on him now, without even having to touch his mother’s crotch, weighed so heavily that he hadn’t a hope of flight. Watching his mother’s sleepy fingers fondle the cum-drenched dildo, he sobbed dryly in existential horror at the fate that was nearly his as well.
For an hour, mother and son remained in the moonlit front hall: Roberta in a state of drunken, sexually satisfied repose on the floor and Kyle in a limb-hardened state of petrified paralysis beside the stairs. Some part of him felt he should run and put as much distance between himself and his mother as he could, possibly even outside this house and into the unknown of the night, where he at least wouldn’t be threatened by the immediate danger of being thrust up his parent’s gaping cunt. Yet fear and shock kept him there. In the near-silence, Kyle was treated to the sound of his own waning, panicked breath and his near-naked mother’s latent sighs of contentment.
In the living room, the mantelpiece clock chimed eleven p.m. As if startled from her madness, Roberta groggily pulled herself back to her feet, the pink, cum-caked dildo still gripped in her fist. Frowning, she let it roll from her opened hand. The glass rod made its way across the floor, stopping just by the bannister, a few inches from Kyle. He tried not to inhale too much, but the stink of his mother’s sex was rampant on the thing and globbed thickly around the shaft. Kyle coughed, drawing Roberta’s loving gaze back to him.
Her eyes still more than a little hazy from the excess of wine, Roberta stooped down, grasping the railing for support, and closed the same hand around Kyle’s nude body that she’d previously used for the masturbatory assault on her pussy. The smell was even worse here, her skin crusted with thick drops of her ejaculate, now smeared just as heartily into Kyle’s back and chest. He convulsed in his mother’s fingers, feeling as though he was covered on all parts of his form by crawling insects, from which there was no escape. The warm, sticky flesh of Roberta’s palm tightened like a noose around him, straightening him out.
“What a night, huh, sweetie? We sure have our fun, don’t we?” she teased. Thankfully, the woman’s voice was robbed of its previous wobble. Kyle prayed to whatever gods which obviously didn’t exist that she was on her way back to sobriety and, hopefully, her senses.
“Cat got your tongue, as usual?” she cooed. She brought her hand up nearer to her face as she lumbered back into the living room, a goofy smile spread on her thin lips. Her six-inch charge quivered vigorously in her hand, drenched with anxious sweat. “Oh, you don’t have to shake so much, dear. I didn’t mean to scare you, of course. Sometimes Mommy just has to let off a little steam, and sometimes too she has needs, just like any woman. Tonight those things just happened at the same time. You understand, don’t you?”
“I… I d-d…”
“Eighteen years, you were never at a loss for words, until right now. Isn’t that funny? Anyway, sweetheart, you don’t have to look so serious. You haven’t experienced the reality of this yet, but the fact is that sex is… a beautiful, beautiful thing. Someday, maybe very soon, you’ll learn that for yourself and then you’ll see exactly what I mean. Now. Would you like to go to bed?”
Kyle stared up at his mother with wild-eyed horror, drained of fight by the mere staid conviction he recognized in her eyes. Every word out of her mouth was logical to her; he could hear it without error. He ceased shivering in her fingers, probably via his Stockholm symptoms, but still felt the same familiar cold despite the sweaty heat of her thick fingers coiled so tightly around him.
“I said…” she repeated, clearing her throat. “Are you ready for bed, sweetie? Answer me now, please.”
“Y-Yes,” he said, for once not having to lie. Sleep, difficult as it would be to come by, would be a welcome diversion from his disgusting state of life affairs.
“Good. Me too,” Roberta said. She spread her fingers wide open again, palming her naked son in the center of her hand, but keeping him pinned under her thumb. Her thin lashes batted sultrily. “Of course, I’m sure you’ve still got a fair share of adrenaline worked up in your system after our little game of cat and mouse. And that’s partially my fault, for confusing you like I did. So maybe we ought to get you gentled back down.”
“M-Mom?”
“C’mere, you. Let’s get ready for bed,” Roberta purred. Her puckered lips descended on Kyle’s body. The slimy, hefty mass of her tongue unfurled with a sloppy smack on his thighs. Her lips closed into a surprisingly loving peck upon his wilted cock, then reopened, inviting his member into the hot cave within. Involuntarily, Kyle went limp in his mother’s hand as the giant woman’s ravenous lips pulsed several times around his crotch, softly suckling him like a straw. Just when he began to fear that he’d sprout a fear-erection, Roberta released the grip of her mouth and, with a final wink, spread her tits apart. As her bra was the only article of clothing still adorning her plump, distorted-hourglass form, the swollen masses of her breasts held firmly together as Kyle was tucked into his usual resting place for the night.
And, for all his self-hatred of it, Kyle fell asleep between Roberta’s enormous breasts not long after she clambered nakedly into bed and clicked off the bedside light.