As usual, in the morning I cooked my son a big breakfast and while we were eating he told me that he had some chores for me to do. I sighed and puffed a little, knowing that my son was going to put me to task again, but I was also incredibly turned on by the way my son has been treating me. I’m being used by my son in the best possible way, I was thinking to myself, even though I know some people will be disgusted, I can’t control myself and I love everything that has been happening. I’ve always been a doting mother, and I’ve been waiting on my son hand and foot all my life.

After breakfast my son went upstairs and plopped down two large bags of dirty laundry he had brought home from college and told me, in a very imperious and demanding voice, “I need you to wash these clothes.”

I went to work, and he retreated back to his room. A few minutes later he emerged again. I was standing in the laundry room folding the first load of clothes, doing what I was being told to do.

“You are such a pretty little housewife. My dad was such a fool to leave you. You are like a domesticated breed exported from Japan. A pretty slut wife. An perfect oriental doll.”

My son, who is half-white (but fully white-passing) and born and raised in America, was saying things like those as he sneaked up behind me and placed his hands on my hips. I froze abit as my son touched me. I knew it was inappropriate, but I never stopped him. I stared at the wall in front of me, never looking back. Standing there and baring the blunt of my sexual humiliation. My son leaned in and inhaled my scent, smelling my hair, breathing on my neck, his hands rubbing along my hips, tracing the contours of my figure, feeling the roundness of my ass, up the hourglass of my waist.

“It has been so long since mommy has been appreciated by a man. A real man. Any man.” I wanted to tell my son but I was abit scared to admit that I liked it and so I kept quiet as his hands wandered up, unclasped my bra, which fell loose and dropped to the floor.

He fondled my breasts from under my shirt. Softly caressing me. I let him explore every nook and cranny of my flesh as I went about my chore, like a controlled and obedient slave girl, until suddenly I snapped out of it, remembering that it was my son who was touching me.

“Could you please stop? You are distracting me. I am trying to do something here.”

“I’m just having a feel. Having a little fun. Feeling these soft titties of yours that I have wanted to touch for so long.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this. I’m your mother …. Ahh!”


My words were stopped as he pinched one of my nipples. I gasped and breathed heavily. He stood behind me still, fondling my breasts as if he were the owner of those. I could clearly feel his cock getting hard and it was pressed against my ass.

I went on about folding his trousers, letting my son groping me as much as he pleased. I was folding his socks when the hands started to explore down into my yoga pants. I gave no resistance and remained silent. This encouraged him to go farther. His hand slid down my front, pulled tight against my body by the stretchy fabric. Then he slid under my panties and found my soft and shaved pussy. And explored my mound, and then my vaginal opening. I gasped as he parted me, no longer able to hide my arousal. I was so turned on being manhandled. I wanted to admit that I have always been a depraved slut who enjoyed this kind of treatment, who enjoyed being molested, degraded, groped, and talked down to, but I didn’t have to. My pussy did all the talking. My pussy was wet and throbbing as my son was rubbing all over it. His one hand was working on my pussy while his other hand was tugging on my hardened nipples.

“Such a sweet little slut.” He whispered to my ears as he pulled his fingers out of me, out of my pants, leaving a slimy trail, raising them to my face, smearing the moisture on my cheek. “Look at how wet you are, slut.”


“Don’t forget to finish that other load.” He said, as he walked out of sight.

A few minutes later, he came back in as I was bent over moving clothes from the washing machine into the dryer. Just as he had done before, he sneaked up from behind, and grabbed a handful of my hips and pulled me back into him, his cock pressed into me.


“Can you feel how hard I am? Can you feel my cock?” He was humping and grinding on my ass as he said that.

“We shouldn’t do this. This isn’t right.”

“It felt right when we were on the cruise that night, didn’t it.”

I genuinely felt conflicted. I knew in the back of the my head that this is all very wrong, but I can’t help but admit that this was also what I had always wanted. I acquiesced and no longer fought back.

And that was when my pants were pulled down completely, along with my panties, all bunched up together around my ankles, my soft creamy ass fully exposed, bent over, and ready for him.

He dropped his shorts to the floor, and his cock was ready to fill me.


My ass swayed in anticipation. I was dripping.


“So are you ready to get fucked, mother? Is this what you want? Huh? You want me to use you like the yellow whore that you are? You want me to fuck you right here while you do my laundry?”


I was unable to speak. My body was writhing, squirming, begging to get fucked.


He slid two fingers in to tease me again. “You have the sloppiest wettest cunt I had ever felt, mom.”

I moaned.

He wiggled around inside me getting to all of my walls. He even pushed his fingers in deeper and tickled my cervix.


I was panting, I was desperate, I wanted my son to fuck me. I was unable to speak.

He slapped me hard across my ass cheek. Leaving a hand print and some of my pussy slime still wet on his fingers. I whimpered again.


“Answer me cunt!”

“Yes, yes. I want it. Please… please fuck me.”


“Well. OK, then. Since you asked for it.”


He spread me apart and slid his cock into my wet pussy. It felt like heaven. A rush of my juices flowed to him as he fucked me deeply, and he started to fuck me hard. Pounding me. I braced myself against the dryer as he rocked me back and forth.

“You look so beautiful mom. Bending over for me. My sexy mother. So sweet and subservient. I’m fucking your sloppy wet cunt, mom. Moan for me slut. The same way you moaned for my father. The way you moaned for your fuckbuddy Mike.”


I didn’t talk back. I was not ready to speak the filth I was performing for my own son. Though I lacked words, the sounds of sex told the full story, as I whimpered and grunted, as my throat released those loud guttural groaning, and loud sobs of pleasure and sex filled the house as I came.

My pussy was literally drooling on his cock, as a moment of realization overcame me, as I reflected on the fact that my son was fucking the same hole that he had come out from, into this world. My son was now cumming inside the same birth canal where his father had planted his seeds.

He grunted and emptied his balls inside me. Filling me. My son. My very flesh and blood. His cum was blasting up inside me, mixing with the cum his father had left in me previously, their sperm swimming in competition with each other, swimming up inside my womb.

He held himself inside my pussy throbbing until every last drop was emptied. My breathing subdued.

Then he stepped back. I stood there motionless, still bent over, my panties and yoga pants still around my ankles, and my sloppy pussy drooling and dripping all over the floor, unable to process all that had happened.


“Okay mom, I’m going to take a nap now. Finish that laundry and we will talk. We will have to talk about your gangbang session next.”

“Okay, my love.” I answered.