My Mom's a Submissive Slut

Dad and I are rolling in his BMW, on the way home from the country club. We've been playing golf together since I was 13. Today I finally beat him.

I'm back from my first year at college, and not looking forward to being stuck at home with the folks all summer. Kind of cramps my style. Golf with Dad is good now that I'm old enough to drink a few beers at the course. I'm used to getting laid and basically doing whatever I want at my school apartment, though.

Dad is a jock, a real alpha kind of guy. So it's a little surprising, the way he takes it when I shut him down 4 and 3 in our golf match.

"Son, you played great today," he's saying as we cruise, listening to his ridiculous music. How many years can someone hear ACDC play the same damned song?

"Well, I made the golf team thanks to a great teacher," I offer in consolation.

"You won big. Kicked my ass, and that's not easy."

Sure buddy, I'm thinking. You just get older, and I just get stronger and better. "I had a hot stick on the green was all," I say.

"No, you won really big. You'll see when we get home."

"Okay . . .?"

We haul out our golf bags in the garage and walk into the kitchen. Dad reaches into the fridge and chucks me a beer.

"Congratulations. You can do anything you want around the house now."

"Just because I beat you at golf?"

"Not really. I've decided it's time to stop the pretenses around here. You're old enough, and man enough now."

I'm pondering that statement while I take a big first chug on a fresh cold one. I hear Dad yell, "Carol! Get your fine ass in here!" So I follow Dad into the living room, expecting him to pretend to proudly tell Mom I'm the big winner at golf.

She walks up and kisses Dad hello, normal stuff, and then Dad says sternly, "You know what we talked about? It's time."

My mom's face drops, and then her chin, and she's staring at the carpet.

Before I can even comprehend what's happening, she reaches behind her neck, unfastens something and lets the top of her dress fall down.

Right out of nowhere. She's just standing there in some sheer brassiere for me to see. Just standing, head down, and waiting. My heart is galloping and there's thunder in my ears but there isn't a sound in the room. Dad says nothing, so I say nothing. We just look at her tits and nipples hardening through the fabric.

"Now the bra," Dad eventually says. I realize that my jaw is hanging and I close my mouth.

"Oh, god" my mother whispers as she unclasps herself. She looks up into my dad's face, eyes pleading, and he smiles evilly.

"Do it, slut."

And then my mom's breasts spill out in front of us, and she laces her hands behind her neck. She's only 20 years older than me, just shy of 40, and exercises like a crazy woman to stay in shape.

I have to admit that I enjoy watching her workouts in the home gym. And the yoga. Oh, yes. Many a spank session has been devoted to this woman's slavish devotion to keeping her body firm and supple.

"What do you think?" Dad says.

Think? All the blood is rushing from my brain to my swelling dick. Barely enough brain cells manage to reason that I should play along and see how this works out.

"Uh, nice rack . . . slut."

"Damned right she's a slut. And she's your slut now, laddie. Want to see the rest?

"Fuck yeah."

"You heard him."

My mom, breathing heavily, wriggles her hips and tugs and steps out of her dress. Then she looks directly at Dad and pulls down her panties. Right there in the middle of the living room while us guys drink our beer. Her face is scarlet with embarrassment.

And when she is done, she is naked, chest heaving, hands clasped behind her back, legs spread apart. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her chin is quivering.

Now, I'm no rookie when it comes to internet porn. I know what I am looking at. Mom is a submissive, probably into being humiliated and fake sexually "abused." Becoming an incestuous slaveslut for her son has to be the ultimate horror/fantasy.

I walk around her, silently, inspecting my slut mom's ass and tits and swollen, hairless pussy like Dad and I would check out a show car. I look at him and nod with approval.

"Impressive," I say.

"I'm handing you the proverbial keys, son."

"Big moment." I heft one of her breasts and my mom snatches a breath. "Is this something she wants to do?"

"It's not really the slut's say so, but you must have noticed . . ."

"How she used to tease me? " I grip on her tit, find a pebbly nipple and pinch her hard.

"Ah!" my mother yelps.

"Is she allowed to talk?"

"Your decision."

"Okay. Answer, slut. Just so I'm sure. You're my mom and all, and I love you. Is this what you want to happen?"

My mom opens her misty eyes and says very meekly, "Please. Yes. If you'll have me. I'm so ashamed."

"That your son knows your slutty secret? That you're going to be my personal whore all summer? That you're doing this in front of your husband?"

I drop her tit and clap my hand between her spread legs, roughly jamming two fingers into her slippery cunt. Then I finger blast her so that we can all hear her sloppy hole.

Feeling the inside of my mom's sugar walls has my cock and balls raging. It's like an earthquake spreading seismic waves across my abdomen. I have to back off or I'm going to squirt in my pants, and Dad's going to laugh his ass off.

"Hear that wet cunt?" I tell her. "Make it slop for us with your own hand."

Her knees keep half-buckling and her ass is clenching but she does it. Dad looks at me, grins and wiggles his eyebrows. It's so bizarre. Hearing my mom pant and the wet, rhythmic degradation she's performing. For me. Because I told her to.

My dick is screaming for release and my first instinct is masturbation. It's how I dealt with it and my hot mom in this home all my life. Dad reads me like the greens at his golf club.

"You need to bust a nut, son? It's her job to take care of that now."

My mom lets out a slow whining sound.

"Uh, kind of weird with you in the room."

"Understood. I hope you'll let me in on some of the fun this summer, but for now I'll just head upstairs and hit the shower."

Soon as he's gone I'm undoing my pants and getting my dick out. I must have a pretty good one, from the oohs and omigods it elicits from the girls at college. Mom's eyes bulge with some kind of horny horror when she sees my hard-on.

"Come here now!" I tell her urgently. She stumbles toward me, uncertain I guess whether she's supposed to keep frigging herself. I grab a head full of hair and jam her face toward the head of my dick. She keeps fingerfucking herself as I feel my cock enter her warm, wet mouth.

Two pumps is all I last. A geyser of semen blasts into her throat - two, three, four, five hard hot jets of sperm that cause her to gag and choke as she orgasms on her knees before me.

What a mess. She can't swallow fast enough and the stuff runs down her chin, drools all over her tits and it's dripping onto the carpet. I watch a drop of my goo fall from one of her nipples as I listen to this horrible "ahahgagaghaa" sound emanate from my mother as she climaxes with a cock in her mouth.

Surreal? Fantastic? I don't think there's a word to describe what it's like to see a woman change from the mother you've known since babyhood into a cum-faced submissive slut. In a matter of minutes. At the behest of her husband. I mean, orally servicing your own son - that has to be the ultimate in whoredom.

She's licking and slurping and trying to clean herself and my dick. I tell her, "Just rub it all over your tits." When I see her hands on my cock it's almost too much to bear. I need some time to think.

"Go upstairs, show Dad what a mess you are and see if he wants to fuck you," I say. "Or whatever it is you two do together."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So I'm replaying what Dad has said, and what I have seen, and all these possibilities keep running through my head. Still a lot of questions as I lay outside by the pool, gently drunk on my second beer and getting hungry.

That's when my mom comes outside with another frosty cold one and a plate of baked nachos and plants her butt on the lounge chair next to me. She's wearing a pair of very short shorts and a baby tee with no brassiere. Sitting crosslegged, and the crotch barely covers her pussy. I mean I can see the sides of her labia majora for chrissakes.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi, Mom."

"You can call me Carol, or whatever you want now."

"Mom's fine." I'm waiting to hear what she has to say for herself. What a whore.

"Did your dad explain much about . . . ."

"I think I get the picture." The nachos taste good. I'm relishing them. And the conversation.

"I'm just wondering, uh, if you're okay."

"Will those shorts stretch enough so you can pull the crotch aside?" I say with food in my mouth.

She sighs, reaches down at pulls at the fabric.

"I guess so. How's this?"

I gaze down at her now-fully exposed vulva and say, "Better. Open your legs."

"My god you're just like your dad," she says as she spreads for me.

"The apple doesn't fall very far I suppose. Now you have two men at home to service. Does this make you happy?"

"Showing you my private parts? It's horrendous. Playing games with your dad is one thing, but now. . . ."

"Now that he's whored you out to me? What?"

"Um, I do what he wants. I mean he's not forcing me, but . . . it's how our relationship works. For both of us."

I take a swig of beer and grab another handful of gooey chips. Mom's cunt show is giving me another big boner. She's got a nice one, you know, for somebody's mom. Pretty lips, as they say. Maybe I'll use her for oral practice. I'd like to get really good at that.

Mind-wandering sex fantasies again. They just don't stop. Could I really fuck my own slutty mom? I'm thinking yes. Fuck her cunt. Fuck her mouth. Fuck her tits.

"What if I want to fuck your ass?"

"Huh? Uh, yes, I'll do that if you want."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you like it? When it hurts?"

"In my ass, or in general?" she says. I think Mom just answered her own question.

"Are you a spanky gal?" I ask her. There were a couple of those back at college.

"This is so humiliating."

"Do you like that, too?"

"Gawdammit yes! All right! You clearly know what I am, you bastard!"

I push the cold beer bottle against her sex and listen to her suck air through clenched teeth. But she doesn't scoot away. She takes the agony. What a shocker.

"You're a slut who's fantasized for years about having her own son dominate her. You've been fucking training for this day, and fucking training me to be sexually attracted to you."

I adjust the beer bottle so that the neck is nosing downward, toward her vagina. Mom is shooting me daggers with her eyes.

"Just admit it," I say as I pop the bottle neck into her mom-whore cunt.

"Dammit! Fine. Ow! Yes. It's true."

I pull the bottle out of her, bring it to my mouth and gulp most of the beer before it gets warm.

"Tasty," I say. Then I set the thing vertically between her legs, near the edge of the chair and tell her, "Mom's horny yoga time again. Show me how you fuck."

"Seriously?"

"Do you need a spanking to find out if I'm serious?" Threatening to spank my own mom. This is incredible.

She looks at me. I look at her.

"Squat on that beer bottle, slut."

Mom sighs, puts her feet on the patio, reaches onto my hand holding the bottle and finds her vagina. She has to lean toward me, so I grab the front of her t-shirt, yank it over her tits and wad it in my fist.

Face right in front of me, she starts humping on the bottle. Must have been good and wet from showing her son her twat, I guess, because there's no problem sliding it inside her. The look on her face is this exquisite combination of humiliation, anger and discomfort.

"I'll hold the bottle, Mom. Put your hands on your knees and fuck it."

I can feel her hot cunt touch my hand when she lowers herself. Up and down she goes, degrading herself for own son's amusement. Mom's eyes roll upward and it looks likes she's giving in to whatever she is . . . and then Dad walks out outside.

"Ho ho! Good one, son," he says as he steps up and inspects his wife. "You won't believe what kind of things will fit in there."

My mom's face goes slack and she hangs her head in shame. Her hips grind on the bottle and her tits jounce a little with her movements. So I let go of her t-shirt and slap them, gently.

"Oh, yeah," Dad says. "You're a natural. Keep up the good work. I'll order some delivery pizza for dinner."

I keep slapping mom's tits, and she keeps fucking the bottle, and we hear Dad say into the phone, "Can you send Andy? Great." Mom groans when she hears that.

It's too much trouble holding the bottle for her and I'm getting more interested in the tit-slapping anyway, so I tell the slut to stand up. She already knows to lace her hands behind her neck and present her breasts. Geez, Mom.

"Bring her in the house, I'll show you something," Dad says.

I take her hand and she follows and when we get inside my father is holding one of those spatula things Mom uses to flip eggs. "This works great," Dad says as he playfully whacks her on the ass.

He hands the spatula to me and I ask him, "Does it work on her tits?"

"What do you say, slut?"

Mom replies, "Please. You can use it on my tits. Or anywhere you like."

What a ridiculous suggestion, from my own mother. I'm not going to flog her with a fucking spatula. I hold it in front of her face and say, "How about you show me how to do it?"

Dad laughs again and sits down in his Barcalounger like he's settling in to watch a movie. I'm thinking this submissive-mom situation will be more comfortable when he goes to work tomorrow.

So Mom starts doing this thing where she picks a spot and hits herself, over and over, harder each time, until I hear her suck air between her teeth and stop. It's amazing when she hits her tits. That looks like it really hurts.

"Pull off your shorts and beat your ass, Mom."

"Do a good job, slut," Dad says.

She's whaling on her own butt and breathing hard when I get another idea.

"Squat and slap your uh, cunt." This is so weird.

Mom's panting and the spatula's making really nasty sounds on her wet, open sex.

"Not so hard," I say. "Softer and really fast. See if you can get yourself off."

There she goes, paddling her pussy and whining and grunting and then I step closer, bend down and talk in her ear.

"What a complete whore you are, mother. Spreading cunt in front of your own son and smacking your lips and clit with the spatula you use to make me eggs. Hoping I'll 'make' you fuck me like some incestuous trailer park sow. That's right, faster. You like it. Does it hurt? You deserve it. For being such a filthy slut of a mom. Now you better come for me, on a count of three, or else. One . . . two . . . are you ready?. . .almost there? . . . three! Come for me now, slut!"

This ungodly keening noise emanates from my mother as she spanks herself as fast as she can. But she can't come, and I'll bet she knows better than to try and fake it in front of Dad. I push her over onto the floor from her squatting position and she starts sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she's saying over and over.

"It's okay, Mom. You can use your hand."

"Oh god. Thank you . . . thank you . . . ." And she jams two middle fingers into her seething hot slot and bangs the heel of her hand on her clit, laying there on her side, until her legs shoot straight and she clenches into a some kind of living rigor mortis. I can see the veins popping in her neck as the orgasm overtakes her.

Watching your own mother abuse herself does things to the brain. One part of me feels sorry for her - she's obviously messed up if she would do such things - but on the other hand, she's a pretty hot MILF, too. And one who would be my personal submissive fucktoy this summer.

So I'm kind of conflicted. My balls are aching to blow, though. How am I going to deal with that?

I'm just trying to think and staring at my spent mom when the doorbell rings. Dad gets up to pay for the pizza, I presume. But Mom - she starts rolling her head and moaning, "No. . . don't . . . ."

Well he does, because in walks Andy the pizza guy with Dad. Bills and a pizza box are exchanged (with Andy not taking his eyes off my nude mom on the carpet) and then Dad says, "Would you like the usual tip?"

Andy eyes me briefly and looks back at my mother, who has her eyes closed like someone waiting to hear murder verdict.

"Yeah. That would be great," Andy says.

"Ohhh," I hear my mom say lowly.

"Well, slut?" my dad says.

I'm watching my mom haul herself up to her hands and knees and crawl to Andy. I like how her red-blotched tits hang and swing. Then she's up on her knees, fumbling at Andy's pants and then the pizza guy's dick is out and then my mom starts sucking him off.

Right there in front of me.

I mean, come on. There's fun and games with weird mom and dad and then there's realizing that your mom really is a knob-slobbing whore. For the pizza guy. Who else?

She's jacking him and bobbing and slurping and fondling his balls and frankly doing a pro job of trying to get him off as fast as she can. Not once does she look at me or Dad. When she looks up into Andy's face with her mouth stuffed that's all he needs. And she takes the whole load, just gulps it down, until he's finished and she falls back on her heels, wiping her mouth on her arm and gasping for air.

Oh, but the whore's not done. Then she scoots onto her butt, splays her legs, pulls her knees back and uses her hands to spread her labia so that Andy gets a Grade A prime beaver shot.

"Thank you," my mom says in complete defeat.

Andy shakes his head and looks at that cunt - blazing red from the spanking a few minutes earlier - and says "You're welcome, ma'am," as he zips up and buttons his pants.

I wait until Dad ushers Andy out the door before I yell, "Mom!"

"I'm so very sorry."

"Sorry? You should be ashamed." Mom just hangs her head and looks at her beaten breasts.

Dad walks back in and grabs a slice out of the box. I eyeball him and say, "Has she always been like this?"

"Pretty much," he says before he takes a bite.

"I mean, did you turn her into - this?"

"Nope. I caught her fucking the neighbor."

"Which?"

"I'm not telling. And the lawn guys. As in plural."

"Fuck! Mom!"

"So we had a long talk, not a fight, which is what smart married people do, and we worked out a way to take care of your mother's . . . special needs."

I look at my mother and see a tear trickle off the end of her pretty nose. You know. The one that was just buried in the pizza guy's pubes.

Dad says, "You were going to find out eventually. Isn't it better if you help me - help her?"

"You mean keep the slut under control?"

"Exactly. With your imagination and 19-year-old libido I think you'll give her all she can handle."

I hand a slice of pizza to my naked mom-slut and tell her, "Eat." From the look on her face, semen and pepperoni is apparently a bad combo.

"We need something to drink," Dad says helpfully. The slut hops up and does this strange trot toward the kitchen. Like she's intentionally making her boobs bounce.

"You make her do that?"

"You like it?" my father says. "She hates it."

"But she loves it because she hates it."

"Something like that."

After Mom boob-trots back with a pitcher and some glasses, I wolf the pizza in silence. Wondering what next. I've got to get my balls drained. They're aching badly.

I look at Carol the slut mom. She's a sweaty mess. Welts all over her body, mouth destroyed by the pizza guy's dick, eye make up smeared and running from her tears - it's a sight I'll never forget. I realize that the perception of what was formerly my mother is now gone.